Good evening! It's a public holiday here, so I'm enjoying the last few hours of a long weekend.
I'm just a guy that's looking for someone. I'm in stable employment (plus a side hustle that crops up now and then). Love my job (most of the time), but I love the weekend just as much.
I'm a bit introverted but around the right people/in the right situations I come alive.I'm equally as happy doing things by myself as I am with a small group of friends, and can usually be found: On walks, or trying new cafes or restaurants, hanging out with friends, or at concerts (I really enjoy metal and rock but what I listen to may surprise you).
I also enjoy reading, watching TV and movies, practicing my second language, and martial arts.
I'm Caucasian with an average build, average/shortish height, brown hair, glasses, occasional facial hair (now is not one of those occasions), and four tattoos. Happy to verify.
I'm looking for someone to vibe together with. Doesn't matter if we have some (or more) of the same things in common or not. I'd be just as happy growing with you and sharing in what you enjoy as I would be sharing what I enjoy (and enjoying time independently).
Friends would be great, but if it evolves naturally to something more, that'd be great too!
Cheers!

Desi Hiphop has been growing at such a crazy pace. It's genuinely insane and so exciting.
The first boom was the Gully Boy movie and Apna Time Aayega which made every single child in the cities ratta it and flex to their friends that they know it fully. It was a moment that introduced Hiphop from an Indian perspective to the new generation, the school kids. It put this raw micro culture into this big spotlight which wasn't seen before.
Though the groundwork laid by pioneers like Raftaar, Krsna and Emiway etc was in a way mainstream but not at a high level at all. Badshah and Honey Singh had this mainstream success through Bollywood but whatever they prouduced was so dumbed down that it was essentially Pop, Rnb cosplaying as Hiphop. It didn't have the rawness that it should have to be "Rap". Thats why I put Gully Boy as the first big boom of the DHH scene.
It wasn't through industry though. What was through the industry though which also lead to more exposure and popularity of the genre was the Beef Season between Emiway Bantai, Raftaar, Stan, Krsna and other Kalamkaar and BR artists. These disses and tracks were quite disrespectful but in a way collaborative. If a rapper who some people would never listen to ended up dissing their favourite rapper, theyd listen to the track 100%. This lead to back and forth between two artists which ended up in all the artists involved gaining listeners and popularity.
There's another factor. Social Media. Something so ubiquitous in our lives now. DHH had always hosted itself on YouTube as many other indie scenes do. Aside from that there's Tiktok and Insta reels which have the power to make any random song viral. There used to be certain tracks that went viral through "hard" and "attitude" edits but those were judged as poor taste by the public and media (some through genuinely being wack and some through a classist gaze). Recently as many artists have upped their production, visuals and quality of skill, Insta reels have picked up alot of artists such as Talwiinder and Yashraj through Dhundala virality and the recent Seedhe Maut surge through "Soh rha hoon बंदी ki chuchuon pe". Also events like Concerts and MT Hustle which have taken HH to a national level.
Basically I'm trying to say that the recent generation has been discovering Hip Hop and Rap from an Indian lens. Someone's first rap song that they heard might be a SM track, a Krsna track or a Emiway track. Generally our first introduction to rap is Eminem but this is be the last generation of early teens that still have that starting of discovering Hip Hop. This is inspiring so many Indian Kids that see it as something we can do and not something limited to the West. This is the ground roots. And it's not something that needs more time. It has already started and is picking up rapidly. Look at Char Dihwarri, something never seen before. And there is probably our Kendrick, our Kanye out there. Arpit Bala and foosie gang draw parallel to Odd future. Whatever we may have right now may not be the level of the West but we need to appreciate and support so in the future we can break through.
PS : Sorry for the massive essay ( I didn't crash a Porsche for this one tho) Also there might be people older and more experienced in this community ( im 10th guy) feel free to add in the comments

Any spiritual people going through BU? Please share your experience, for example I’ll start;
The break up has been well past 6 months now. I haven’t been in contact with her since Feb. at first the energy definitely felt like it was over and I had no choice but to move forward although I didn’t want to. Lately the energy has been shifting and idk how to feel about it.
January I had a dream. The dream was vivid, we attended the same party, not together but we were both there. I pushed past my friends who didn’t want me to see her, and I seen her with someone else. (I’ll get back to this.)
February in real time, something felt off. I get two flats on the side of the boondocks at 2am. I called a lot of people no one could “come” my last resort was to call her. To my surprise she showed up, not in her car. When I got in she was listening to a song I showed her when we were together. I spoke to her I said “dude you have no idea how many dreams I’ve had of you, I’ve been worried about you.” She expressed that she kept having dreams of me too and that her life since the break up has been rough and her car had been totaled.
March in real time, angel numbers had kept showing up around me. Now I never try to think too deep into it but I did. Nature, birds, warmth. Is all I could describe. Something felt like something was gonna happen. Ironically an old coworker of mine invited me to his party. I hadn’t heard from him since the break up but we were very close since high school. I show up early to help him set up and he names everyone coming, she was one of them. She gets there and I try my best not to make things weird, a hello, and a shot. We didn’t speak the rest of the night. As she was leaving my friends were blocking her but I looked over their shoulder and seen her making out with someone.
April real time, I’m not an avid rock listener at all in fact it’s weird that I even made a playlist of songs knowing I probably won’t listen to it. The very first song I added was “red by chevlle” no reason just was feeling it I guess. I’m scrolling through my IG feed, mind you we don’t have eachother on socials, she doesn’t have Apple Music, plus this playlist is private. A day after I made it, she post a picture with the very same song. Odd in a way that was the first time I seen her page pop up since, and in a way it was that very song.
May in real time, after a while energetically it didn’t feel like anything. No signs no nothing. Toward the end of the month the numbers would show. I’d hear “go with the flow” a lot from my friends and by this point I was fairly getting over her. I hung out with a friend, who I hadn’t seen in a while and they began to mention her, I didn’t say anything. They’re friends, and I’m seeing someone new. I started to see her name a lot, TikTok accounts, streams I watch, it was weird. I found out that she had blocked me. She also moved on.
June in real time, by now I’m just doing things that focus on me. Hanging out with friends distracting myself. I got a new job. Everything. It’s only the first week. One day as I’m working, I can’t help but feel like someone is watching me and when I looked up, it was her staring at me. She quickly looked away. 2 days later for some odd reason, mind you, we don’t live in the same town, nor do we work together. For some odd reason I feel a strong urge to go to the particular gas station, which is weird because I always go to the one closest to my destination, for the first time in public without any planned event, I seen her.
Maybe all coincidences that I want to feel like mean something. But curious if anyone else experiences or experienced this.

“It’s called a grief doll” Dr. Ramos said.
I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“A what?” I asked.
I’d agreed to this session to get my mother off my back. Provided, of course, that she also foot the bill. And, truth be told, it hadn’t been an easy couple of months. The word “stillbirth” sounds a lot more peaceful than the reality of it all. You get all the same blood and screaming as a regular birth but with none of the joy afterward. Things are, I guess, “still,” in a way. The silence of the grave.
“I know it’s a little unconventional,” Dr. Ramos said. “But, there’s been some really solid research to back it up recently. My colleague down in Camden–”
I cut him off. “You want me to buy a lifesized recreation of the dead baby that I just gave birth to?”
He looked slightly chastened by this. “I want you to process what happened, Mary. It can help. Look, if what you were already doing was working you wouldn’t be coming here, right?”
I sighed. “Alright. You’re the doctor. Who am I to argue with science?”
We talked a bit more after that, but it’s not really worth recounting here.
***
The next day I went to the address Dr. Ramos had texted me. It was a little building tucked away downtown between the huge tech skyscrapers and offices. When I walked in, the owner, a short man with a scruffy beard, smiled at me and said “You must be Mary.”
I nodded.
“Would you like to sit down? Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really want to stay here any longer than I have to, if that’s alright with you,” I said to the Rasputin-looking gentleman sitting behind the desk.
“I get it,” he said, nodding gravely. “People come here to get away from something, not to settle down. Do you have the pictures?”
I took them out of my bag. It had been quite a while since I’d needed to get photographs printed out. Ever since the world had gone digital we’ve all become allergic to paper.
“Here they are,” I said to him. These would serve as the model for the doll. He reached out and took them from me, examining them carefully.
“I think I’ve got what I need. I will let you know if I need anything more,” he said, stroking his long beard hypnotically.
I left and drove home. It was a quiet ride. Much more quiet than I’d been used to. Ever since Tim had left there were these little dead spaces throughout the day. He used to fill car rides with excited chatter about protons and leptons and all the -ons he got to work with as a physicist.
My brain had begun to fill these spaces with grim reflections on the past and future:
It’s your fault.
You don’t deserve a baby.
This is God’s way of telling you that you don’t deserve to be alive.
Over and over again these thoughts would run through my mind like the world’s most depressing tape recorder. Vicious, hateful, unbelievable things kept popping into my head as I drove the short distance home, making the trip feel far longer than it actually was.
***
I had taken to staring at the ceiling and crying myself to sleep most nights. The big, empty house felt suffocating at 3 AM, like all the open space was sucking the air out of my lungs every time I opened my mouth. This had been the way I spent most nights since the stillbirth. I tried to fill the silence any way I could. At all hours of the night, one could hear my TV blaring or my phone playing some podcast or another. Anything to avoid the little dead spaces between one task and the next.
But it was most difficult of all when I tried to sleep. I saw images of my little girl when I closed my eyes. I saw the blood and heard my own screams when it became clear that she would never take a breath. There were also subtler forms of self-inflicted torture.
Exactly one month after the worst day of my life, I came home from work to find Tim’s things cleaned out and a note on the kitchen table. It read:
“I’m sorry Mary. I can’t imagine how hard this month has been for you, but every day I stay here is like a knife to the heart. You’re just so sad and I can’t take it anymore.”
That phrase “You’re just so sad” played in a loop in my mind’s ear.
***
Eventually, I won the battle against consciousness. It was a fitful, restless sleep pregnant with terrible things. I felt like I’d lived an entire life come morning. I dreamt that I’d held little Sarah in my hands, that I’d been able to feed her from my own body just like I’d wanted to do for so many years. But as I held her against my chest she melted into a puddle of flesh and blood, yet never ceased to suck, to draw whatever life she could from me, and I was desperate to give it to her. Eventually, she was little more than eyes in a puddle of fleshy blood, staring at me from the ground and whispering “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
I woke with a start. Never, not once in my life, had I experienced a dream like this. I sat huddled in my bedsheets, shaking with tears as I saw the image of my melted little girl swirling around on the floor, asking why I hadn’t helped her. Reality seeped back in stages, penetrating the veil of sadness, and shocking me to my feet with the blaring intensity of my phone’s alarm. It was always turned up to full volume because anything lower risked my sleep-addled mind resisting its call to return from the deep. It had always been difficult to tear myself from the land of dreams, and more so after my life began to feel like a nightmare. But lately, sleep offered little respite.
I pulled on my clothes, brushed my hair so that it was halfway presentable, and poured myself a bowl of oatmeal. It was a gray, soggy pile at the bottom of my bowl. In a flash of unwanted connection, my brain superimposed the image of little melted Sarah onto my field of view. I nearly vomited into my bowl, but just then there was a knock on my door.
“Package,” the deep baritone on the other end intoned.
I opened the door and saw the mailman walking away. It occurred to me that nothing was stopping me from asking him out now that Tim had wandered out of my life. But, immediately, my brain stepped in to fill in the blanks:
Why would he want someone like you?
What the hell is wrong with you?
I don’t even want you and I am you.
These thoughts came as easily as my breath, and I had long since stopped trying to challenge them. In all likelihood, they were right. I picked up the package and saw that it was the grief doll. As soon as I got home from work I’d figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with the thing.
As I stepped into the bathroom, the mirror joined my inner voice in confirming my lack of romantic prospects. Deep, black circles formed rings under my eyes. Deeper wrinkles stood out on my forehead and my double chin and – was that a gray hair? Already? Immediately, the thoughts returned.
You’ll be dead at 50 by this rate.
The world won’t miss you.
Why not make it tomorrow?
Again, these suggestions were difficult to challenge with the evidence inches from my eyes.
***
It was hard to care about work. Even at the best of times, it hadn’t been the most fulfilling job in the world, but these days my cubicle felt like a tomb. My job was to call people who had filled out negative reviews for the phone company (I’m sure you know which one, but it’s probably best to leave that unsaid) and ask why.
This was a doubly depressing task because it was both neverending and pointless. How many times in the past month have you picked up a call from a number you didn’t recognize? I’m guessing the answer is lower than one. Almost nobody picked up, and those who did invariably did one of two things: hang up instantly upon realizing who I was or scream invective at me that I would hesitate before repeating to the devil himself.
One particularly creative gentleman suggested I fold myself in half seventeen times to create a black hole and then have intercourse with said hole while my company’s headquarters were sucked into the event horizon. Points for creativity. Deductions for misogyny. Although, in fairness to the man, I have no trouble believing he’d have said something similar to a male rep.
That day only two people picked up. One hung up immediately. The other launched into a tirade of such intensity and fervor that I was worried he wouldn’t make it to the end of the call.
“And another thing!” the man shouted as I quietly ate a sandwich on the other end. “Your website looks like it was designed by some rock monkey with shit for brains and feet for hands!” he screamed at me. This was an insult I hadn’t heard before. Variations on it appeared with some regularity, sometimes with racial overtones. I’m not entirely sure why this was, given that I had no accent identifying me as anything other than white, and in fact I wasn’t. The assumption seemed to be that because I worked in customer service I must be Indian. This leap in logic went unquestioned by a surprising number of my interlocutors. The average consumer of cellular services in this country is a few rocks short of an avalanche themself.
“I’m sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations,” I said dryly, reading from the part of the script labeled “negative responses.”
“And I’m sorry that you people haven’t gone back to where you come from!” the man shouted.
“I’m from Omaha sir,” I said.
“Where you’re really from!” he shouted back.
“I’m really from Omaha sir,’ I responded tiredly. “And so is my father and his father, and before that we came over from England.” This prompted a string of racial epithets I’d rather not repeat. The rest of the day went like this, and after a while I defaulted to flatly repeating “I'm sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations.”
My faith in humanity dimmed with each passing call. I decided to slip out at 4:00. I figured no one would notice. I figured right.
***
It was Wednesday: trash day. The walk from my apartment to the dumpsters was a dismal affair. Despite gray skies, cold fog and a pounding headache, the excursion did at least deliver the best part of my day. A few guys catcalled me on the way to the curb, and for a moment I felt like something other than a disgusting blob of flesh.
But then the thoughts started back in and made me realize that the men’s comments had not been compliments but acts of aggression. As I dragged the empty trash cans back to my apartment, the men once more yelled out their opinions on my face, my tits, my ass. In response, my mind conjured scenes from my dream – melted flesh, the endless unanswerable question: “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
By the time I’d made it back to my apartment I was practically in tears. At that moment, however, I remembered that the doll had been delivered earlier. It was time, I supposed, to open it.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, the package yielded its contents, and I nearly fell over when I saw it for the first time. It looked exactly like Sarah. Her little, premature hands. Her closed, screwed up eyes. Everything.
I held the tiny plastic facsimile against my chest and sobbed into it. I apologized to it over and over again:
“I’m sorry Sarah. I’m so sorry.”
But nothing could have prepared me for the moment that it spoke back:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I screamed and fell backwards. The floor flew up to meet me and struck the back of my head with overwhelming force, driving the tears out even faster through a combination of momentum and pain.
“What did you say?” I asked, with a shaking voice.
For a moment, the doll was quiet, its little eyes still shut against the world. Then, they snapped open. Its little mouth opened and flopped around like a fish before repeating:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I threw it across the room. It was an instinct, but a second later, I felt bad. It was like seeing Sarah’s death all over again. The doll screamed and cried.
Why did you hurt me, Mama?
It asked in its sad, childlike voice.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I threw up again and again, my body shaking uncontrollably. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. That thing was nothing more than a hunk of colored plastic. When there was nothing left to expel from my stomach except bile, I returned to the front room and slowly approached the doll where it lay in the corner.
Its eyes snapped to mine.
Why did you leave me, Mama?
I picked it up and hurled it out the window. For a moment, I thought that I should try and call the short Russian man who had sold me the monstrosity but then I remembered that it was 8:30 on a Wednesday. Not even Russians have that kind of work ethic.
Instead, I poured a glass of wine with shaking fingers and turned on the TV, desperate for something, anything to break the silence. As the news blared and the alcohol entered my veins, I was almost able to convince myself that the last few minutes hadn’t happened. But then the screen began flashing images of babies in incubators – victims of some war halfway around the world. Protestors marched through the streets, holding images of the poor, malnourished infants, and listing out those they felt were responsible. Before I turned it off, I could have sworn that one of them turned to the screen and said my name.
***
When I did fall asleep, it was only after many hours of crying and shaking. As returned the silence, so returned my certainty that I had heard the doll speaking. But human frailty won the day, and my brain surrendered to darkness once more.
In my dream, I saw Tim holding little Sarah and crying. He held her close and put the tiny baby girl to his face, kissing her again and again. Then he turned to me with an eyeless face and spoke with a toothless mouth:
Why didn’t you save her, Mary?
I tried to scream but in this world I could not make a sound. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and I felt like I was breathing in the ocean. Then, little Sarah looked at me with her little melting face and said:
Didn’t you love me, Mama?
When I didn’t answer, the tiny melted eyes burned with rage.
I hate you Mama. Everybody hates you. You throw me out the window?! You should jump out yourself and do the world a favor you worthless sack of human garbage forgotten by God. Why are you even alive you heartless bitch?
I kept trying to scream but nothing would come out. I tried to apologize but could only feel the sensation of water rushing into my lungs. Sarah began to say, over and over:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me–
I woke with a start to find the doll inches from my face. It was shouting at me:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
This time, I did scream, and batted it away from my face. The horrible thing, which somehow had reappeared in my house after I’d thrown it out of a 7th story window, began to sob in the corner where it fell. It looked up at me with its tiny heartbroken eyes and quivering lips as it asked me:
Why did you hurt me, Mama? Do you hate me?
Without thinking, I said, “Of course I don’t hate you, sweetie. Mommy loves you very much.” I froze. What was I doing? This thing wasn’t Sarah. It wasn’t even a person.
Then why did you hurt me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me?
I buried my head in my hands. “I couldn’t save you! I’m sorry!” The tears continued to pour from my eyes in rivers, soaking the arms of my shirt.
You didn’t deserve me, Mama. You coldhearted cunt. You shouldn’t even be alive.
I looked at the thing in shock. Hearing those words in a child’s voice was somehow far worse. It couldn’t stay in my house. Not one second longer. But throwing it out the window hadn’t worked, so I had to come up with another plan. I grabbed the hateful thing and carried it to the fireplace. It screamed all the while, sobbing just like a child in pain.
Don’t burn me Mama! Don’t hurt me! Why are you doing this?
I was undeterred. The fire roared to life, and I hurled it into the hottest part of the blaze as it hurled insults back at me.
Nobody’s ever loved you! Why do you think Tim left, you stupid bitch? If he really loved you, he’d have stayed!
Slowly but surely, the thing melted in the flames. Its little face turned to mush, then to liquid, then to ash. The smell was atrocious, but at least it was gone. I lay panting on the floor, crying but relieved.
Later, I called the Russian man and told him that something was terribly wrong with his doll. He listened to my story, then said, not without empathy:
“Maybe you should go back to this doctor? The one who referred you here?”
It was the most polite way that someone had ever called me crazy. Seeing that this was a mistake, somewhat too late to avoid it, unfortunately, I hung up.
Work was no better than it had been the day before. I listened as people berated me over the phone, and read from my script in a monotone voice. I was no more useful than a robot. As the insults went on and on, I began to dissociate from my body. My mouth said the words in the script, but my brain had no say in the matter. The words simply spilled from me like tears from my eyes.
At lunch, I sat next to Jim. I’d always liked Jim. Had a huge crush on him since the day we’d met. Normally, we took our lunch breaks at different times, but that day the stars aligned. The biggest problem with talking to Jim had always been that we had zero interests in common. But that day, the TV in the break room happened to flip to a channel playing a soccer match. We discovered that we were both huge fans, and finally I had something I could say to him.
Things couldn’t have been going better until I looked down and saw, under the table, something that made me jump a foot in the air.
The doll.
It was staring up at me with its cold eyes and sneering mouth.
You can’t get rid of me, Mama. No matter how much you want to.
Jim looked at me strangely, and I apologized, making some halfhearted excuse that I probably wouldn’t have believed coming from him.
What makes you think he’d be interested in someone like you? Have you looked in a mirror sometime this decade? Unless he’s got a corpse fetish I’d say you’re about two decades too old for him.
I stared down at the doll so long, Jim asked me what was going on. I picked it up, and showed him. When he asked what it was, I hesitated before answering. Eventually, I lied and said that it was a present for my daughter.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Jim said.
“Yeah, I gave birth a couple of months ago,” I replied, which was not technically a lie.
Of course it’s a lie you worthless bitch. If you told him the truth he’d run screaming into the street. The only reason he’s stuck around this long is because there’s only one break room. Nobody will ever love you. Nobody.
“Stop it!” I yelled, before remembering that Jim had no idea what this thing was. He looked at me strangely and I bolted out of the room, sobbing and cursing the malevolent presence in my arms. It cursed me right back:
What the fuck’s wrong with you? Why would you even talk to him? You’re a disgusting pile of shit and vomit unworthy of life. You know what you could do to make Jim’s life better? You could slam your fucking head through a plate glass window and spray the side of the building with blood until you fucking die.
“Stop it!” I shouted, and threw it onto the floor as I ran to my car. But, there it was inside, waiting for me, its hateful sneer plastered onto its tiny, childlike face.
What’s the matter Mary? Can’t handle the truth? Can’t handle knowing that you’re a failure as a mother and the ugliest bitch who ever lived?
I sank to my knees and screamed, holding my head with both hands and begging the hateful thing to stop. But it didn’t. It kept pummeling me with insults and threats until I couldn’t take it one second longer. I got into the driver’s seat and floored the accelerator, taking the car onto the freeway, then to the nearest exit, then right off the edge of a cliff.
As the car soared through the air, there was a tiny moment of quiet before gravity took over. It was only an instant, but in that instant I realized that I was going to die. So for the first time in weeks, I smiled.
***
The next thing I can remember is tremendous pain. My eyes hadn’t even opened yet, but even though the world was dark, it was still full of suffering. Then, in the next instant, my eyes flew open. There, at the edge of the bed, looking at me with all the hate in the world, was a familiar hateful face.
Welcome back to the land of the living, bitch. Couldn’t even get suicide right, could you?
I had no energy left to sob. Instead, I hung my head in defeat, looking at the tiny hunk of plastic staring up at me and wishing to God that I’d chosen a higher cliff. Soon, a man in a white lab coat walked in and smiled.
“Hello Mary,” he said.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“They checked your wallet when they pulled you out of the car. Your driver’s license was right on top,” he replied, still smiling.
“Right,” I said, not smiling back.
“I’m not going to lie to you, that was a close call there. But you’re going to be okay. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
I immediately became wary, but nodded my head.
“Before the accident, do you recall feeling lightheaded or dizzy?
I shook my head.
“Any alcohol or drug use?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, good. And have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself in the past week?”
This was the question I’d been waiting for. I shook my head again, knowing that an affirmative answer would mean at least a 3-day psychiatric hold. As soon as they learned about the doll, God knows how long it’d last.
“Excellent. You should be able to get out of here in a couple of days. You’ll have to be careful with those casts, but everything will be okay.” I nodded again, and he left. The doll popped its little face back off the bedsheets and set itself right back to its task: destroying my mind and soul. As the night wore on, I sat there, frozen, as it continued to pound me with reminders of my inadequacies, my faults, my failures. From time to time, I had to stand and it stood with me, clinging to my hospital gown as I made my way to the bathroom, to the cafeteria or to have one test or another performed. From that moment on, it was never quiet, though I seemed to be the only one who could hear it. Whether it was reminding me of that time in 3rd grade when Johnny Welkins had rejected me in front of the entire class, or the time that I’d sat through an entire date before realizing my shirt was on inside out, or berating me about letting the original Sarah die, it was always saying something degrading and humiliating.
By then, I’d become numb to the abuse. I never responded or argued. I never fought back or tried to get rid of it. Once or twice, I accidentally crushed it under my foot, but it always ended up right back where it had started: on my hospital bed, eyes burning with rage and lips firing off insult after insult.
***
The last night I was in the hospital, I dreamt of Tim. I dreamt of the last time that I’d seen him before he disappeared forever. He stood in the doorway, blocking it with a stern face and large hands. I kept trying to push past him, but he wouldn’t let me. Eventually, we fought, and he threw me to the floor. I landed on my stomach so hard all the air flew out of my lungs.
When I woke, the doll was standing over me, and it had gone back to its familiar mantra:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I sighed and focused on filling out the discharge forms that the nurse had left. They were long and boring, and it was no simple task to complete them with the doll repeating its horrible question again and again and again. Eventually, I finished, and an orderly wheeled me out to my car, the doll clinging to my shoulder and shouting abuse into my ear.
A single tear fell from my eye and rolled down my cheek as I climbed in to the driver’s seat and started the engine.
***
When I arrived home, I collapsed on my bed and began to weep. I wept like a child. I wept so loud in fact that I couldn’t even hear the doll as it broke down my door and resumed berating me. But I ignored it. I ignored it as I made dinner. I ignored it as I took out the trash. I ignored it as I returned to bed and tried to sleep. But it wouldn’t stop. Finally, it got close to my face and screamed right into my ear:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
And, for the first time since the accident, I replied, shouting: “What do you want from me?! I couldn’t save you, Sarah! I couldn’t!”
Liar! You could’ve saved me! You know you could’ve!
In that instant, it finally pushed me past my breaking point. I picked it up and shook it as hard as I could, screaming: “What could I have done? What was I supposed to do? What do you want from me?! Why are you doing this to me?!” The doll looked at me with cold, hateful eyes and said:
You could’ve stopped Tim.
I froze. “What do you mean?” I asked.
You know what I mean, Mama. You know what he did. Why didn’t you stand up to him? Why didn’t you stop him?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I shouted.
Yes you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
“No!” I shouted. “No, I couldn’t stop him!” But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.
We both know why the stillbirth really happened, don’t we, Mary?
I shook uncontrollably and ran into the backyard to get away from the doll, but it only appeared right in front of me, scowling down at me as I tripped and fell. It pointed to the ground and began to raise its little arms. The ground shook and trembled and I shouted at it, begged it to stop, but it was too late. In one enormous burst the ground split open and a body fell next to me.
It was Tim.
Why didn’t you save me from him, Mary?
The doll asked. I continued sobbing, but managed to respond, “I couldn’t save you Sarah. But I could get you justice.”
The doll’s face softened a little, and for the first time, the fire went out of its eyes. It crawled up next to me and buried its little face into my chest, and let me hold it, just like I’d always wanted to do.
I stroked its hair and whispered to it, over and over again, “I would’ve saved you if I could.”
And in its tiny, childlike voice, the doll replied, “I know.” Then it closed its little eyes, nuzzled close into my chest, and heaved a heavy sigh before never moving again.

from 6-7/10 to 8-9/10
At the stage where I'm pretty good on basic techniques, can easily play songs like Hysteria, Orion, etc. But when I try victor wooten or marcus miller, bit too hard for me.
So I want some songs in the middle - stuff like Sir Duke (or is that very hard also?) or Dune Tune. Tried learning songs from the Trinity Bass pop & rock grade 8 book, and those were a pretty good difficulty level for me as well

Hey! I'm looking for someone I can take out on dates, as well as hang out and chill with. I'm not in a rush to jump into something super serious straight away, but if a real connection grows from our time together, that would be amazing. Also I don’t mind traveling so I’m good with however far you are.
About me: I stand at 6 foot 1, rocking a short beard and proudly displaying lots of tattoos. As a pretty decent chef, rest assured you won't starve while you're around me! I’m into all genres of music, especially pop punk and hip hop. I enjoy impromptu adventures, giving epic shower concerts (Not to be missed), and basking in lazy days filled with drinks and great movies.
I have to admit, talking about myself isn't my strong suit. So, if you'd like to know more, feel free to drop me a message anytime. Let's see where this journey takes us! Bonus points if you add a selfie with your message.

Hey there! Before anything,i know my account is new but i had another account that i lost not long ago so yeah,i swear i am not a robot or a creepy person.
Ahem,so about me!
-I'm a 20,almost 21 year old male from Europe. Mixed,and bilingual. I'm here looking for a very special girl that knows what she wants. Someone to appreciate life with,and enjoy moments together irl and online. I guess you could say i'm a big romantic in this world of looks and such. And talking about looks!
Physically speaking: -I'm neither obese or slim,i do have some extra love but hey,i'm good for warming u during winter! haha. Height wise i'm between 5'11-6'0. CM speaking it's 181/182cms. I have dark hair and brown eyes. You could say i'm like a teddy,since i do have hair but if you like that i'm glad.
So,what do i like,have interest in? -My main interests are:
Gaming: I love anything rpg related. Started playing DS1 a few days ago and finished it today. I want to play BG3 so bad but my pc isn't good,so i gotta save for a better pc. I also play Fortnite so if you wanna duo tell me! My main game franchises are: Fallout,Warcraft,Final Fantasy. And starting to like the Souls one too :))
Manga/Anime: I'm not a big weeb,yet i do love some of them. My main ones are : D-Gray Man,Berserk,Gantz,JJBA,Hellsing and Dorohedoro. One Piece is my childhood tho.
I also love Fantasy in general and i want to be a fantasy author. I do worldbuilding and all of that cool stuff so if you're a fantasy girl it'd be so good!
Music: My main artists/bands are Muse,System of a Down and Queen. I love classical music but mostly rock/nu metal and old pop.
But,what am i looking for in a girl?
-Well i'm not very picky. Just...you know,share stuff from above with me or have similar taste,be yourself and have true intentions. My main aim towards the future relationship-wise would be getting you know,a ring on your hand. And also some little devils,you know? So i hope you want the same. My age range is from 19 to 23 years old,i guess. Ethnicity,beliefs or location don't matter to me,yet it'd be more comfortable if you were from Europe if you don't your timezone messed up,but if you don't care about that thing,go ahead as well! So what else...i don't know,don't want to write the whole bible here. If you feel interested about me and want to see how things go,introduce yourself as detailed as you want in dms,and also add the word "Icarus" so i know you saw all of this.
Anyways,see you in dms maybe? Hope so!

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

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★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

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★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

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★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

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★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. Commander, Crimson Web, Mogul, Forest DDPAT, Buckshot), Sport Gloves (Pandora's Box, Superconductor, Hedge Maze, Vice, Amphibious, Slingshot, Omega, Arid, Big Game, Nocts, Scarlet Shamagh, Bronze Morph), Hydra Gloves (Case Hardened, Emerald, Rattler, Mangrove), Broken Fang Gloves (Jade, Yellow-banded, Unhinged, Needle Point), Pistols - P2000 (Wicked Sick, Ocean Foam, Fire Element, Amber Fade, Corticera, Chainmail, Imperial Dragon, Obsidian, Scorpion, Handgun, Acid Etched), USP-S (Printstream, Kill Confirmed, Whiteout, Road Rash, Owergrowth, The Traitor, Neo-Noir, Dark Water, Orion, Blueprint, Stainless, Caiman, Serum, Monster Mashup, Royal Blue, Ancient Visions, Cortex, Orange Anolis, Ticket To Hell, Black Lotus, Cyrex, Check Engine, Guardian, Purple DDPAT, Torque, Blood Tiger, Flashback, Business Class, Pathfinder, Para Green), Lead Conduit, Glock-18 (Ramese's Reach, Umbral Rabbit, Fade, Candy Apple, Bullet Queen, Synth Leaf, Neo-Noir, Nuclear Garden, Dragon Tatto, Reactor, Pink DDPAT, Twilight Galaxy, Sand Dune, Groundwater, Blue Fissure, Snack Attack, Water Elemental, Brass, Wasteland Rebel, Vogue, Franklin, Royal Legion, Gamma Doppler, Weasel, Steel Disruption, Ironwork, Grinder, High Beam, Moonrise, Oxide Blaze, Bunsen Burner, Clear Polymer, Bunsen Burner, Night), P250 (Apep's Curse, Re.built, Nuclear Threat, Modern Hunter, Splash, Whiteout, Vino Primo, Mehndi, Asiimov, Visions, Undertow, Cartel, See Ya Later, Gunsmoke, Splash, Digital Architect, Muertos, Red Rock, Bengal Tiger, Crimson Kimono, Wingshot, Metallic DDPAT, Hive, Dark Filigree, Mint Kimono), Five-Seven (Neon Kimono, Berries And Cherries, Fall Hazard, Crimson Blossom, Hyper Beast, Nitro, Fairy Tale, Case Hardened, Copper Galaxy, Angry Mob, Monkey Business, Fowl Play, Anodized Gunmetal, Hot Shot, Retrobution, Boost Protocol), CZ75-Auto (Chalice, Crimson Web, Emerald Quartz, The Fuschia is Now, Nitro, Xiangliu, Yellow Jacket, Victoria, Poison Dart, Syndicate, Eco, Hexane, Pole, Tigris), Tec-9 (Mummy's Rot, Rebel, Terrace, Nuclear Threat, Hades, Rust Leaf, Decimator, Blast From, Orange Murano, Toxic, Fuel Injector, Remote Control, Bamboo Forest, Isaac, Avalanche, Brother, Re-Entry, Blue Titanium, Bamboozle), R8 Revolver (Banana Cannon, Fade, Blaze, Crimson Web, Liama Cannon, Crazy 8, Reboot, Canal Spray, Night, Amber Fade), Desert Eagle (Blaze, Hand Cannon, Fennec Fox, Sunset Storm, Emerald Jörmungandr, Pilot, Hypnotic, Golden Koi, Printstream, Cobalt Disruption, Code Red, Ocean Drive, Midnight Storm, Kumicho Dragon, Crimson Web, Heirloom, Night Heist, Mecha Industries, Night, Conspiracy, Trigger Discipline, Naga, Directive, Light Rail), Dual Berettas (Flora Carnivora, Duelist, Cobra Strike, Black Limba, Emerald, Hemoglobin, Twin Turbo, Marina, Melondrama, Pyre, Retribution, Briar, Dezastre, Royal Consorts, Urban Shock, Dualing Dragons, Panther, Balance), Rifles - Galil (Aqua Terrace, Winter Forest, Chatterbox, Sugar Rush, Pheonix Blacklight, CAUTION!, Orange DDPAT, Cerberus, Dusk Ruins, Eco, Chromatic Aberration, Stone Cold, Tuxedo, Sandstorm, Shattered, Urban Rubble, Rocket Pop, Kami, Crimson Tsunami, Connexion), SCAR-20 (Fragments, Brass, Cyrex, Palm, Splash Jam, Cardiac, Emerald, Crimson Web, Magna Carta, Stone Mosaico, Bloodsport, Enforcer), AWP (Black Nile, Duality, Gungnir, Dragon Lore, Prince, Medusa, Desert Hydra, Fade, Lightning Strike, Oni Taiji, Silk Tiger, Graphite, Chromatic Aberration, Asiimov, Snake Camo, Boom, Containment Breach, Wildfire, Redline, Electric Hive, Hyper Beast, Neo-Noir, Man-o'-war, Pink DDPAT, Corticera, Sun in Leo, Elite Build, Fever Dream, Atheris, Mortis, PAW, Exoskeleton, Worm God, POP AWP, Phobos, Acheron, Pit Viper, Capillary, Safari Mesh), AK-47 (Steel Delta, Head Shot, Wild Lotus, Gold Arabesque, X-Ray, Fire Serpent, Hydroponic, Panthera Onca, Case Hardened, Vulcan, Jet Set, Fuel Injector, Bloodsport, Nightwish, First Class, Neon Rider, Asiimov, Red Laminate, Aquamarine Revenge, The Empress, Wasteland Rebel, Jaguar, Black Laminate, Leet Museo, Neon Revolution, Redline, Frontside Misty, Predator, Legion of Anubis, Point Disarray, Orbit Mk01, Blue Laminate, Green Laminate, Emerald Pinstripe, Cartel, Phantom Disruptor, Jungle Spray, Safety Net, Rat Rod, Baroque Purple, Slate, Elite Build, Uncharted, Safari Mesh), FAMAS (Waters of Nephthys, Sundown, Prime Conspiracy, Afterimage, Commemoration, Dark Water, Spitfire, Pulse, Eye of Athena, Meltdown, Rapid Eye Move, Roll Cage, Styx, Mecha Industrie, Djinn, ZX Spectron, Valence, Neural Net, Night Borre, Hexne), M4A4 (Eye of Horus, Temukau, Howl, Poseidon, Asiimov, Daybreak, Hellfire, Zirka, Red DDPAT, Radiation Hazard, Modern Hunter, The Emperor, The Coalition, Bullet Rain, Cyber Security, X-Ray, Dark Blossom, Buzz Kill, In Living Color, Neo-Noir, Desolate Space, 龍王 (Dragon King), Royal Paladin, The Battlestar, Global Offensive, Tooth Fairy, Desert-Strike, Griffin, Evil Daimyo, Spider Lily, Converter), M4A1-S (Emphorosaur-S, Welcome to the Jungle, Imminent Danger, Knight, Hot Rod, Icarus Fell, Blue Phosphor, Printstream, Master Piece, Dark Water, Golden Coil, Bright Water, Player Two, Atomic Alloy, Guardian, Chantico's Fire, Hyper Beast, Mecha Industries, Cyrex, Control Panel, Moss Quartz, Nightmare, Decimator, Leaded Glass, Basilisk, Blood Tiger, Briefing, Night Terror, Nitro, VariCamo, Flashback), SG 553 (Cyberforce, Hazard Pay, Bulldozer, Integrale, Dragon Tech, Ultraviolet, Colony IV, Hypnotic, Cyrex, Candy Apple, Barricade, Pulse), SSG 08 (Death Strike, Sea Calico, Blood in the Water, Orange Filigree, Dragonfire, Big Iron, Bloodshot, Detour, Turbo Peek, Red Stone), AUG (Akihabara Accept, Flame Jörmungandr, Hot Rod, Midnight Lily, Sand Storm, Carved Jade, Wings, Anodized Navy, Death by Puppy, Torque, Bengal Tiger, Chameleon, Fleet Flock, Random Access, Momentum, Syd Mead, Stymphalian, Arctic Wolf, Aristocrat, Navy Murano), G3SG1 (Chronos, Violet Murano, Flux, Demeter, Orange Kimono, The Executioner, Green Apple, Arctic Polar Camo, Contractor), SMGs - P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - Sawed-Off (Kiss♥Love, First Class, Orange DDPAT, Rust Coat, The Kraken, Devourer, Mosaico, Wasteland Princess, Bamboo Shadow, Copper, Serenity, Limelight, Apocalypto), XM1014 (Frost Borre, Ancient Lore, Red Leather, Elegant Vines, Banana Leaf, Jungle, Urban Perforated, Grassland, Blaze Orange, Heaven Guard, VariCamo Blue, Entombed, XOXO, Seasons, Tranquility, Bone Machine, Incinegator, Teclu Burner, Black Tie, Zombie Offensive, Watchdog), Nova (Sobek's Bite, Baroque Orange, Hyper Beast, Green Apple, Antique, Modern Hunter, Walnut, Forest Leaves, Graphite, Blaze Orange, Rising Skull, Tempest, Bloomstick, Interlock, Quick Sand, Moon in Libra, Clean Polymer, Red Quartz, Toy Soldier), MAG-7 (Copper Coated, Insomnia, Cinqueda, Counter Terrace, Prism Terrace, Memento, Chainmail, Hazard, Justice, Bulldozer, Silver, Core Breach, Firestarter, Praetorian, Heat, Hard Water, Monster Call, BI83 Spectrum, SWAG-7), M249 (Humidor, Shipping Forecast, Blizzard Marbleized, Downtown, Jungle DDPAT, Nebula Crusader, Impact Drill, Emerald Poison Dart), Negev (Mjölnir, Anodized Navy, Palm, Power Loader, Bratatat, CaliCamo, Phoenix Stencil, Infrastructure, Boroque Sand), Wear - Factory New (FN), Minimal Wear (MW), Field-Tested (FT), Well-Worn (WW), Battle-Scarred (BS), Stickers Holo/Foil/Gold - Katowice 2014, Krakow 2017, Howling Dawn, Katowice 2015, Crown, London 2018, Cologne 2014, Boston 2018, Atlanta 2017, Cluj-Napoca 2015, DreamHack 2014, King on the Field, Harp of War, Winged Difuser, Cologne 2016, Cologne 2015, MLG Columbus 2016, Katowice 2019, Berlin 2019, RMR 2020, Stockholm 2021, Antwerp 2022, Paris 2023, Swag Foil, Flammable foil, Others - Souvenirs, Agents, Pins, Passes, Gifts, Music Kits, Cases, Keys, Capsules, Packages, Patches

Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.

Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.

Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.

I'm a complete newbie who wants to get into grilling and maybe smoking, so I recently bought a Weber 57cm (22in) compact kettle. After an initial high heat bbq to christen the kettle, I bought a chimney and some charcoal baskets for more adventurous cooks but I've struggled to get good results.
First attempt was a whole roast chicken cooked over indirect heat. I half filled a new chimney with the same instant light charcoal from the before. The amount of smoke filling the neighbourhood made me realise this was probably a mistake. I poured the coals into two baskets and put them either side of the kettle, and popped the chicken in the middle of the cooking grate with some potatoes in a drip tray under the bird. I kept the lid on and the vents wide open, but the BBQ never felt very hot. I checked the chicken's internal temperature periodically and it took about 1.5 hours to reach 70c. Skin wasn't crispy. Potatoes were still rock solid.
For my second attempt I wanted some good quality lumpwood but I couldn't find any, and I was in a rush, so I bought some bar-be-quick briquettes. I filled half the chimney with the briquettes, much less smoke and a far less chemically smell than before so I thought I was on to a winner. Poured the coals into the two baskets just before the top coals were ashing over, with both baskets placed to one side of the kettle this time. Popped the lid on for about 5-10 mins to let the kettle heat up, vents wide open. I cooked chicken thighs and corn indirectly on the other side of the grill with the lid on - again, there wasn't much heat coming off the grill. These took over an hour to come up to temp. I read a tip to finish chicken off skin side down directly over the heat to crisp up the skin, which I did, and it worked, but then I put some burgers on and these took about 20 minutes to cook over direct heat. Barely a sizzle. In the end the corn was perfect, the chicken was good but I felt like these took way too long to cook, and I was disappointed that the burgers looked oven roasted and took ages.
Can someone confirm where I'm going wrong? Should I be using more charcoal? I've read about lots of people getting good long cooks out of just half a chimney. Or is it simply that the coal I'm using is cheap and shit? And, is air flow limited because the bottom vents are much smaller than models like the master touch?

My family was trying to discern why Davis felt so beautiful, inviting, full, and rigorous enough for my first few months here. I think I've distilled that below. At the very bottom at least.
Firstly, I am, have been, a pretty active PoliSci/IR major. I double majored in sociology for most my time here, but dropped it to graduate early -- strictly and directly because Davis gave me so so much more to want to do. I say directly because it's own PoliSci study abroad program made me see that. More on that later. Or feel free to message me. However long in the future.
I can talk a lot, don't like to end sentences, and use metaphors. But when I was doing this search a few years back, I was dying to find someone verbose so I hope this helps you, future applicants. Congrats for making it this far. Take a breath, whatever choice you make will be right.
For some context on my perspective, I moved from Greece to SoCal when I was about 10, so got a good balance of an American "local" perspective and the classic, aptly stereotyped European borderline snobbery perspective. After getting waitlisted at Berkeley for too long, and accepted at Santa Cruz, where my brother had gone, San Diego and Irvine, I chose Davis. Among those choices especially, I am beyond happy. Throw Berkeley and LA into the mix, I'm still happy. And this is coming from an academic junkie honestly -- taking five courses a quarter for quite a few of my quarters here (normal full-time student is 3), worked at our lovely student newspaper (shoutout to The California Aggie), did some remote internships on the side, partied, did nothing for days, made friends, lost friends, saw friend groups fall apart terribly, hilariously, bar crawled, crammed, emailed every excuse in the book (except for grandma) etc.
EDIT: that works best at the top. A VERY important thing that college "experts" don't tell you about here is how you need to find, and search until you find, a reliable counselor in your school/major. Someone that KNOWS the requirements and courses you need. Meet with them plenty. I give a shout-out later to my counselor, the lead for PoliSci/IR, Saira, I don't even want to think of what chaos I could have fallen into if not for her. Go use UC davis mydegree (SUPER useful) but for the love of God, talk to your counselor every quarter, even just for five minutes, always pop on the platform, select a specific counselor, and make the appointment. Even if the earliest one is a week or two ahead. Book it.
A Brief Prelude:
Going in to college guys, my two cents is just treat life like you love learning the world around you, know it will absolutely fuck you up sometimes, and know 24 hours in a day is enough. I am by all accounts far, far from perfect but I feel like with a tiny bit of grit and commitment to go tf outside, not always letting in negative feelings when they want to (ahem, thanks phone) you can have all those experiences you dream of.
This is where Davis comes in. It successfully facilitated that. And I think it can for many, many more people. To be a bit of a pundit ass, it's a truly hidden gem.
Here We Go:
My reasoning has three parts, tldrs for the first two, or if you really want, just skip to the third:
1: The town and the uni as areas
The uni itself has a very balanced culture (look at how Berk can be called unbalanced and clastrophobically manic, and how the SoCal suburb UCs & SD can just be more or less socially dead) and by all means the town would survive without the uni. The town is VERY well placed indeed with SF a stone's throw away (and uni buses that take you straight there for cheap) Sac moments away (for God sakes avoid rush hour), and make some fucking use out of that godtier student discount on the ikon pass to go to Tahoe and ski unlimited days if that's your thing. Or teach your friends!. Join the "ski" club for their ludicrous parties at least once.
I remember the mailers I got pummeled by in senior year of high school, Davis calling itself something like the college town of California half-heartedly struck me like, huh, I wonder what that's supposedly like. It's fucking AWESOME. If you don't have a car, don't have a generous friend with a car, then use student discount on Zipcar, if you don't want to take the train/bus to SF or are going somewhere else. There is zero, zero excuse to not explore those two places heavily if you have four years here, quite heavily too for my lovely transfer students and their two years. Added to the beautiful hometown-but-lively feel of Davis, that regional amenity pack is honestly, perhaps, the best among all UCs. UCLA doesn't even have a goddamn public transit connection to get to the rest of the city in its name. Though that should change with the Olympics. Anyways.
As a foodie with some global chops,, for how sleepy and nonchalant Davis seems,, it still surprises the fuck out of me. Just had birria noodles (!?) from the same place I had one too many drinks at the other night, like, what? There's bomb poke at zumapoke, ol reliables in n out and Cane's, incredible, incredible ice cream at Davis creamery, a surprising few solid options for Indian, Thai, Chinese, and cheap - restaurant - michelin restaurant levels of sushi. Though my dark horse is the sushi & nigiri at the Coho. Guads for Mexican. I used to hang with friends that went to Tijuana for tacos during high school lunch, Guads gets the job done. hapilly. There's also a really good hotdog place,, that for obvious reasons won Guy Fieri's food show awards here earlier this year. A value staple (for my bulking gym friends) at Tim's in the Wednesday chicken katsu special, though it's great and honestly 2.5 meals for me any day of the week,
and oh back to transport a bit -- there's a solid supply of Ubers/Lyfts at all hours, a very smart measured amount of bikes/scooters scattered about to rent, and again, buy your own damn bike. I love the buses and they are absolutely great here,,, but trust me buy that bike off of Craigslist. To close, cannot forget to shoutout Mishkas for coffee and study spot. Though goddamn are there rival options as well. Can do a really thorough personality test thingy off of your coffee spot selection here. That's how many there are.
To start closing this section, If you can access a car (you have so many options) or can, like a good Next-Gen American, see yourself taking Amtrak or other public/uni transport to SF,, (coming back at night no need to spend housing $ most nights) you will be more, much more than fine if you're after for a lot out of your undergrad experience. Basically having so many A+ tier options (many more than the GOATS mentioned) to go to on a slower weekend, for a necessary change of scenery, or to say fck it we ball and skip some classes, live life,, that makes Davis a no-miss possibility. But make sure you go meet people,, from orientation, classes, clubs, frats, sports (volunteer teams too),, go find your people, they are here. Among the hidden sixty thousand of us.
tldr; the town (town, not city) has an excellent energy, beautiful scenery, truly bike friendly so no hassle to move around, great amount of amenities as places -- especially bars that closed during COVID are still reopening (+2 bars just in the last two years) -- and has the BEST location to explore the State during your time here. No other place can offer you a cozy hometown base, literally 50min-1.20hours time to one of the world's most fascinating cities in SF, AND an absolute holy grail of snow and water sports in Tahoe (~2 hour scenic drive is not bad, even during a five class workload, enjoy our youth while we have it everyone).
2: The campus/ The academics:
Campus is downright gorgeous, it's specialty is in fall and especially spring, but in winter too, for my winter enjoyers, it does hit the spot a surprising amount. Just make sure you have rain and wind gear. For your bike too. Don't let that shit rust. Rear fender before you get the dreaded stripe. The heat is fine, 0 humidity is a cheat code. You can also effectively treat campus as a very small one, stay in the centre cluster of the library, Quad, MU, the core academic buildings, or -- as you should -- venture out on your bike or on foot and become familiar with it's nooks and crannies. The (massive) Arboretum , now under some unfortunate but environmentally awesome renovations in the lake, is absolutely fabulous. Going to the West End and it's massive, absolutely massive grass sprawl with redwood and non redwood tree clusters between classes and chilling is just...insane. Forget the lovely cows, go give some love to my boy Truffle the Goat (a goat of goats) and his neighboring alpacas....and cows. Shoutout to the house/EDM nighttime party at the grass area by the coffee class building on picnic day. Shit slapped. But then 5 minutes on the bike and you're -- still in campus -- but back in the hustle and bustle. Balance. I don't think we talk about this enough for college campuses. I was obsessed with Berkeley's lively af scene, felt so so in touch with urban Europe vibe, the opposite of SoCal suburbia. But Davis is only an hour away and hey, we have a massive and bustling Palestine encampment that I'm very proud of + some peace. To each their own.
To any architecture or design majors, you will enjoy this. It's a sleeper hit. The variety in the building styles is insane, but, it works? How mystical and beautiful. Also, the Death Star.
If you ever see a class with it's location at the Mondavi Center - fucking take it. Lecture in a state of the art theateconcert hall? Where I saw Pink Martini perform? Yes please. Oppositely, a mandatory class at Rock Hall? An unfortunate necessary evil. At the TLC? Why the hell are there screens on every wall; Old-school spoiling us behavior, nice to see for a bit of a change honestly and thank God, one building for $85 million. Climate neutral though. Shoutout to Wellman Hall, California, Everson oddly enough, the RADICALLY good vibes in the Art Building, the cave vibe of Kleiber, and yeah. There's much more. God bless the reading room at the library, screw you if you aren't self conscious of your noise level in there ("reading" room, "moderately social"). Make sure you spend a good chunk of your breaks at the part of the Arb by Mrak Hall. Convenient as hell location, + ducks. And all the good that comes with troops of ducks.
Academics largely function the same as that To each their own sentiment, for us in the humanities. When I took the Davis-specific study abroad program at the London School of Economics and PoliSci,,, you could see what a top 10 school in the humanities was like. Or at least my corner of them. Davis is much more relaxed than that. However, if you choose to do something about that, you will find yourself getting an education much much much more tailored to you than if you went to a bigger institution. What's the other proverb, big fish in a small pond or small fish in a big pond? I guess now that I'm in the end, I feel even more confident to say that the former of those two is the way to go for undergrad in particular. But emphasis on the fact that the pond here is not that small, no matter what major you're in. I haven't heard a single person really complain that their area is just crucially lacking. On that, programs like UCDC and UCSac are VERY well funded here and there is an outsize amount of perks, obviously for UCSac especially. And these programs are NOT utilized ENOUGH. I suppose they're throwing money at them to incentivize you, reading this post, to attend.
So tldr on academics (no tldr for campus, sorry); you are either absolutely fucking set from the start or you're not far below that and retain the option to boost that educational value MUCH more than in institutions that wrangle their professors more and are more in the spotlight, or too far away from it. Davis basically IS the Harvard for a few STEM majors. That has an effect on us all. People told me this ahead of time too, but it's another thing to actually experience that. And funding is not an issue here at all (keeping in mind the fact that no public educational institution in this country and even state receives nearly as much public funding as it did a few decades ago).
3: "Energy"
If we delineate between the city & geography (1) and campus & education (2) then three has to be just the energy, and the stuff satellite to those things that complete the experience. Davis really is the school best positioned to say to each their own. I am a person that learns best off of good examples and influences, but that didn't hobble me much here, unlike what I expected. The people are a representation of that "to each..." mantra. You can find plenty of uber passionate, talented and hardworking people here. You can find quite a few extremely fratty people,, the spice of life maybe lmao. You can find many people that just want their quiet consistent little groups. And you can find people that don't care, or just don't care yet. And the most beautiful, you can find people in the middles of those.
The fact that you can find all those populations in equal or at least broadly proportionate amounts is striking, and what makes Davis, Davis. No other university I personally know in California, in the West or East Coast, in the UK or continental Europe is quite like that. Especially with the aforementioned regional amenities pack here. You cannot go wrong with this school. I can see at worst people saying that you can, I have been in moods to say that for sure, but that's a fleeting impression most likely born out of staying in your comfort zone too much. If you need to be poked hella, yeah perhaps you'll need to remember that so you don't slide into the uneventful side of the place, but it's beneficial to have that there in some times.
There's a healthy amount of frats partying, downtown buzzed on all appropriate nights, though I did want more, we now have regular fresh churro stands at night which slaps, there's clubs living it up in their own fields, more than enough new places to eat/study at, lots and lots of classes to try (check out the California Aggie Best Of articles,,, and the California Aggie in general, as a former employee, the paper rocks), lots of credentialed professors, lots of assholes lots of sweethearts (ratemyprof as always), so much campus space to explore and enjoy, and the cherry on top, you don't like that? Here's San Franfuckingsisco an ~ hour away car or no car. Here's Lake goddamn Tahoe just two hours away for a literal privileged lifetime supply of nature and snow sports, and just for fun, here's Yosemite three hours away. A comfortable fun weekend destination. And something like Lake Berryessa 30 min away.
Another shoutout to Sac airport — you receive one of my most favorable airport reviews globally. And you're ~26 minutes away from The Green when I'm not speeding. (The slander on the Green, is utter bs. I'm surprised just as you that it is, but it is all just fake news. Just don't pick the room next to the trash,, or the 1st floor in my personal view. Bugs and noise. Also it literally runs almost 100% on solar, how cool).
Conclusion:
No university is as well positioned as this one to make the world feel like your oyster.
If you are just willing to push a little, consistently. Sure, it's not a "statement" youve made it school that just offers itself on a silver platter. But you can make that silver platter on your own. Fuck it make a golden one even. On academics especially, again, it IS a statement school for some majors, and unlike most times this phrase is used, it does trickle down. As a Greek I love and habitually stereotype (and then being proved wrong is a bonus),,, I can't stereotype Davis. Probably the 2nd-3rd time I say that ever. At least not as a whole. There's too many sizeable factions of wildly different lifestyles. Cows? Love em, yeah we're in gorgeous farmland, but we're also home to Picnic Day (one of California's holy trinity of social college events, for good reason) Lawntopia, the Whole Earth Festival, next to Sac and a bit out from The City. Barhopping is far, far from world class in the post-covid era but rebounding and, if there's a pirate themed bar with free caricatures and way too strong cocktails, how bad can it really be? If you're not here for STEM, sure your professors aren't in the news but don't think it's not a competitive job to land here, and that you're not better off as a student with them not being primadonas. The campus itself, with a bike ofc, nothing less than a chef's kiss. Make sure you get in a sunset or a few at the parking structure.
Actual Conclusion:
I will say nothing more but a close and an addition that there's still so, so much more. This is a BIG university that gives. So much. It's so American in that you reach for what you want (though of course we're very liberal and there's so many good people, staff here to help you. Shoutout to my girl Saira Delgado for PoliSci counseling). But as in previous-century Americana especially, the more you reach for here, the exponentially more you get than in other places.
So reach, refuse too small a comfort zone, but stay true to yourself, this is your life you're in the middle of. This is a school that will make you grow in any way you show you want to.
We don't appreciate balanced environments, adaptable to your own preferences enough.
To quote & slightly paraphrase the end of my favorite trilogy as I also say goodbye to this university,
Take what you can, leave nothing behind.

I never no what to say when someone asks me where I'm from because I was born in new Mexico to a British mother and American father, left to culebra(an island of Puerto Rico) when I was 4 then moved to Puerto Rico, I spend most summers in England and hand a mostly English weird semi American accent with English words for the most part, English people sometimes think I'm American or Australian, and Americans will just think I'm British or Australian, same in Puerto Rico. Like how tf am I supposed to answer that question?

My name is Aleksander, but you can call me Alex or Aleks. If you want to know how I look like feel free to ask in private message. I am an introverted person preferring to spend time in nature or in small groups of close people. I especially enjoy hiking.
I am an event videographer and media editor. I typically work on weddings, concerts and proms.. I am passionate about my work and most things I do in life. I also design websites and service computers. I am located in chicken land, also known as Slovenia and it is not Slovakia.
I can (try to) converse in four languages on a good day, on bad days I can just about point and grunt at things.
My go to dance is chicken dance.
I spend my free time watching movies, listening to music, playing games, basketball, swimming, collecting pet pics, traveling, taking long walks, laughing at my own footage and thinking about anything from current affairs to random things such as: "Could train delays be classified as a form of psychological torture?"
I listen to anything that sounds good to my ears. From classical to hip hop, pop, rock, disco and all the way to metal… I am pretty much in all kinds of video games playing whatever comes out. I play on pc/ps5.
I tend to get pretty vivid/weird dreams like I dreamed of underwear turning to cheese once.
I am looking for somebody that loves having meaningful deep discussions, knows how to joke around and can also just enjoy simple things in life. Having similar interests, but also having differences so we can introduce each other to new things and maybe find a new love for something. I would prefer my partner to like music, movies, video games, pets because cats and dogs are great. Do you want a loyal one or selfish one? Pick your side. I also like to travel, taking long walks and observing beautiful views in silence and appreciating little moments in life.
My turns offs are heavy drinkers and smokers…
If you are interested let me know and if not I wish you the best on your search...

My name is Aleksander, but you can call me Alex or Aleks. If you want to know how I look like feel free to ask in private message. I am an introverted person preferring to spend time in nature or in small groups of close people. I especially enjoy hiking.
I am an event videographer and media editor. I typically work on weddings, concerts and proms.. I am passionate about my work and most things I do in life. I also design websites and service computers. I am located in chicken land, also known as Slovenia and it is not Slovakia.
I can (try to) converse in four languages on a good day, on bad days I can just about point and grunt at things.
My go to dance is chicken dance.
I spend my free time watching movies, listening to music, playing games, basketball, swimming, collecting pet pics, traveling, taking long walks, laughing at my own footage and thinking about anything from current affairs to random things such as: "Could train delays be classified as a form of psychological torture?"
I listen to anything that sounds good to my ears. From classical to hip hop, pop, rock, disco and all the way to metal… I am pretty much in all kinds of video games playing whatever comes out. I play on pc/ps5.
I tend to get pretty vivid/weird dreams like I dreamed of underwear turning to cheese once.
I am looking for somebody that loves having meaningful deep discussions, knows how to joke around and can also just enjoy simple things in life. Having similar interests, but also having differences so we can introduce each other to new things and maybe find a new love for something. I would prefer my partner to like music, movies, video games, pets because cats and dogs are great. Do you want a loyal one or selfish one? Pick your side. I also like to travel, taking long walks and observing beautiful views in silence and appreciating little moments in life.
My turns offs are heavy drinkers and smokers…
If you are interested let me know and if not I wish you the best on your search...

My name is Aleksander, but you can call me Alex or Aleks. If you want to know how I look like feel free to ask in private message. I am an introverted person preferring to spend time in nature or in small groups of close people. I especially enjoy hiking.
I am an event videographer and media editor. I typically work on weddings, concerts and proms.. I am passionate about my work and most things I do in life. I also design websites and service computers. I am located in chicken land, also known as Slovenia and it is not Slovakia.
I can (try to) converse in four languages on a good day, on bad days I can just about point and grunt at things.
My go to dance is chicken dance.
I spend my free time watching movies, listening to music, playing games, basketball, swimming, collecting pet pics, traveling, taking long walks, laughing at my own footage and thinking about anything from current affairs to random things such as: "Could train delays be classified as a form of psychological torture?"
I listen to anything that sounds good to my ears. From classical to hip hop, pop, rock, disco and all the way to metal… I am pretty much in all kinds of video games playing whatever comes out. I play on pc/ps5.
I tend to get pretty vivid/weird dreams like I dreamed of underwear turning to cheese once.
I am looking for somebody that loves having meaningful deep discussions, knows how to joke around and can also just enjoy simple things in life. Having similar interests, but also having differences so we can introduce each other to new things and maybe find a new love for something. I would prefer my partner to like music, movies, video games, pets because cats and dogs are great. Do you want a loyal one or selfish one? Pick your side. I also like to travel, taking long walks and observing beautiful views in silence and appreciating little moments in life.
My turns offs are heavy drinkers and smokers…
If you are interested let me know and if not I wish you the best on your search...

Y’all I know there’s been a post with concerts recently yes but I wanna ask specifically about post hardcore/hardcore/rock concerts. With a lotta moshing. I have hEDS, possible CFS (still gotta ask the doctor ab that one), POTs, autism, and more I can’t remember. Music is my special interest. Especially rock music, and I really wanna go to an upcoming Thursday concert for my birthday with a few friends. I’m scared of hurting and embarrassing myself at the concert though. Are there any precautions y’all take before things like this? Or after? Thanks y’all!!!

Hello everybody.
Friend from Poland is getting married in Montenegro on 21.09.2024 and she is looking for a band to play.
Budget is 1000 euros per 4-5 hours of playing and prefers rock, pop and dance music with mix of English and local language songs.
Party will be in Miloševići, Etno selo Vojnik.
Anybody has some contacts to forward to her or can tell me where to look for?
Thank you for help.

Hey all hope you're having a great day :)
So like most people i'm missing that special person in my life and it would be really nice to find someone that i can relate to, be 100% honest and open with and generally find my best friend.
Hopefully this would start out as friendship and if we click then we click, open to anyone from anywhere :)
Some stuff about me/hobbies
Video games, this is my biggest hobby by far, i play have an pretty big library of games i play so if you game, there is a high chance we would share stuff we could play, a few games i play often, League(i question it too don't worry) soulsbourne games (unga bunga builds) fallout's, i mainly play pc but have a switch and ps4 too.
TV/Film, if not doing the above, you can find me binge watching shows or films, such as B99, the office HIMYM, GoT (we can discuss how shit the last season was forever), Star Wars, Marvel stuff, SAW.
Animals, i have 2 dogs (yes i'll show you lots of pictures) and in general i love animals so much, so i'll probably spam you with pictures of random animals i think are cute or funny :)
Music, i listen to a wide variety of stuff, from rock and metal to dance/pop some electro swing, rap and other stuff, in general if i like a song i'll listen to it on repeat till i hate it but still listen to it anyway.
I try and be witty and funny most the time, I have a stupid sense of humour but will try and make you laugh most of the time, I can be shy to start with but i open up pretty quickly when i get comfortable with you :)
Don't be shy and hit me up if you think we would get on :)

Hi there! I’m looking for something built on friendship that drives both of us to excel in our personal goals. Maybe there’s a skill you’ve been meaning to learn or develop further but need some further encouragement? I consider myself intrinsically motivated in my goals but do enjoy chatting with like-minded people and learning new skills which is where you potentially come in.
About me:

• I’m drawn towards the arts, whether it’s traditional painting, sketching, digital illustration, graphic design, or motion design, and I would love to devote more time towards personal art and learning new artistic skills this year as well.
• I enjoy staying active, whether it’s running, pilates, hiking, longboarding, or various other workout classes and I find joy in movement. One of my active goals this year is to run more races having just completed my first marathon.
• In my free time when I’m not creating or staying active, I enjoy reading (would like to do more of), going to museums/galleries, concerts, the movies, and spending time outdoors. Other miscellaneous interests I have include film, podcasts, history, psychology, and pop culture.
• I consider myself an ambivert and do enjoy making and building connections with other people. Generally, I find myself drawn to thoughtful, self-driven intellectual types but it’s alright if we don’t have too many overlapping interests; perhaps we can both teach each other something new?

Feel free to reach out with an intro if any of this piqued your interest. Hope to chat soon!

If you’re wondering if I’m a fan of the Jonas Brothers, who were just announced as the Twisted Tea Grey Cup Halftime Show at the 111th Grey Cup, why don’t you ask my “Team Jonas” Jonas Brothers Fan Club card from 2009 or the ticket stubs from the two concerts I’ve gone to see them live at.
So, am I a fan?
You bet I am and I’m so excited to see them play at BC Place later this year.
I was thinking of ways to connect Nick, Joe and Kevin to football and the BC Lions (other than with their song Pom Poms and the accompanying video for it where they perform in what appears to be an empty football field) and what better way than naming a Jonas Brothers song for the BC Lions?
Keep in mind I’m Only Human, and When You Look Me In The Eyes, please don’t tell me these aren’t Cool. Hold On, this is going to be fun.
​
PLAY MY MUSIC (CAMP ROCK) BC LIONS
(Listen to the song here)
This technically isn’t a Jonas Brothers original song, but it was the most iconic song from the hit Disney movie Camp Rock (I had to watch Camp Rock 1 and 2 the night before this announcement went live just to get prepared. It’s called research, duh.).
“I just wanna play my music,” the guys sing.
You know who else wants to just play their music? The BC Lions.
In the last three years, the Lions have had the most epic kickoff performers: One Republic, LL Cool J and, this year, 50 Cent. And the year they’re hosting the 111th Grey Cup, they’ve gotten Jonas Brothers. They do like to play their music.
​
Full Story Here: https://www.cfl.ca/2024/06/03/costabile-one-jonas-brothers-song-for-every-cfl-team/

“It’s called a grief doll” Dr. Ramos said.
I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“A what?” I asked.
I’d agreed to this session to get my mother off my back. Provided, of course, that she also foot the bill. And, truth be told, it hadn’t been an easy couple of months. The word “stillbirth” sounds a lot more peaceful than the reality of it all. You get all the same blood and screaming as a regular birth but with none of the joy afterward. Things are, I guess, “still,” in a way. The silence of the grave.
“I know it’s a little unconventional,” Dr. Ramos said. “But, there’s been some really solid research to back it up recently. My colleague down in Camden–”
I cut him off. “You want me to buy a lifesized recreation of the dead baby that I just gave birth to?”
He looked slightly chastened by this. “I want you to process what happened, Mary. It can help. Look, if what you were already doing was working you wouldn’t be coming here, right?”
I sighed. “Alright. You’re the doctor. Who am I to argue with science?”
We talked a bit more after that, but it’s not really worth recounting here.
***
The next day I went to the address Dr. Ramos had texted me. It was a little building tucked away downtown between the huge tech skyscrapers and offices. When I walked in, the owner, a short man with a scruffy beard, smiled at me and said “You must be Mary.”
I nodded.
“Would you like to sit down? Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really want to stay here any longer than I have to, if that’s alright with you,” I said to the Rasputin-looking gentleman sitting behind the desk.
“I get it,” he said, nodding gravely. “People come here to get away from something, not to settle down. Do you have the pictures?”
I took them out of my bag. It had been quite a while since I’d needed to get photographs printed out. Ever since the world had gone digital we’ve all become allergic to paper.
“Here they are,” I said to him. These would serve as the model for the doll. He reached out and took them from me, examining them carefully.
“I think I’ve got what I need. I will let you know if I need anything more,” he said, stroking his long beard hypnotically.
I left and drove home. It was a quiet ride. Much more quiet than I’d been used to. Ever since Tim had left there were these little dead spaces throughout the day. He used to fill car rides with excited chatter about protons and leptons and all the -ons he got to work with as a physicist.
My brain had begun to fill these spaces with grim reflections on the past and future:
It’s your fault.
You don’t deserve a baby.
This is God’s way of telling you that you don’t deserve to be alive.
Over and over again these thoughts would run through my mind like the world’s most depressing tape recorder. Vicious, hateful, unbelievable things kept popping into my head as I drove the short distance home, making the trip feel far longer than it actually was.
***
I had taken to staring at the ceiling and crying myself to sleep most nights. The big, empty house felt suffocating at 3 AM, like all the open space was sucking the air out of my lungs every time I opened my mouth. This had been the way I spent most nights since the stillbirth. I tried to fill the silence any way I could. At all hours of the night, one could hear my TV blaring or my phone playing some podcast or another. Anything to avoid the little dead spaces between one task and the next.
But it was most difficult of all when I tried to sleep. I saw images of my little girl when I closed my eyes. I saw the blood and heard my own screams when it became clear that she would never take a breath. There were also subtler forms of self-inflicted torture.
Exactly one month after the worst day of my life, I came home from work to find Tim’s things cleaned out and a note on the kitchen table. It read:
“I’m sorry Mary. I can’t imagine how hard this month has been for you, but every day I stay here is like a knife to the heart. You’re just so sad and I can’t take it anymore.”
That phrase “You’re just so sad” played in a loop in my mind’s ear.
***
Eventually, I won the battle against consciousness. It was a fitful, restless sleep pregnant with terrible things. I felt like I’d lived an entire life come morning. I dreamt that I’d held little Sarah in my hands, that I’d been able to feed her from my own body just like I’d wanted to do for so many years. But as I held her against my chest she melted into a puddle of flesh and blood, yet never ceased to suck, to draw whatever life she could from me, and I was desperate to give it to her. Eventually, she was little more than eyes in a puddle of fleshy blood, staring at me from the ground and whispering “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
I woke with a start. Never, not once in my life, had I experienced a dream like this. I sat huddled in my bedsheets, shaking with tears as I saw the image of my melted little girl swirling around on the floor, asking why I hadn’t helped her. Reality seeped back in stages, penetrating the veil of sadness, and shocking me to my feet with the blaring intensity of my phone’s alarm. It was always turned up to full volume because anything lower risked my sleep-addled mind resisting its call to return from the deep. It had always been difficult to tear myself from the land of dreams, and more so after my life began to feel like a nightmare. But lately, sleep offered little respite.
I pulled on my clothes, brushed my hair so that it was halfway presentable, and poured myself a bowl of oatmeal. It was a gray, soggy pile at the bottom of my bowl. In a flash of unwanted connection, my brain superimposed the image of little melted Sarah onto my field of view. I nearly vomited into my bowl, but just then there was a knock on my door.
“Package,” the deep baritone on the other end intoned.
I opened the door and saw the mailman walking away. It occurred to me that nothing was stopping me from asking him out now that Tim had wandered out of my life. But, immediately, my brain stepped in to fill in the blanks:
Why would he want someone like you?
What the hell is wrong with you?
I don’t even want you and I am you.
These thoughts came as easily as my breath, and I had long since stopped trying to challenge them. In all likelihood, they were right. I picked up the package and saw that it was the grief doll. As soon as I got home from work I’d figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with the thing.
As I stepped into the bathroom, the mirror joined my inner voice in confirming my lack of romantic prospects. Deep, black circles formed rings under my eyes. Deeper wrinkles stood out on my forehead and my double chin and – was that a gray hair? Already? Immediately, the thoughts returned.
You’ll be dead at 50 by this rate.
The world won’t miss you.
Why not make it tomorrow?
Again, these suggestions were difficult to challenge with the evidence inches from my eyes.
***
It was hard to care about work. Even at the best of times, it hadn’t been the most fulfilling job in the world, but these days my cubicle felt like a tomb. My job was to call people who had filled out negative reviews for the phone company (I’m sure you know which one, but it’s probably best to leave that unsaid) and ask why.
This was a doubly depressing task because it was both neverending and pointless. How many times in the past month have you picked up a call from a number you didn’t recognize? I’m guessing the answer is lower than one. Almost nobody picked up, and those who did invariably did one of two things: hang up instantly upon realizing who I was or scream invective at me that I would hesitate before repeating to the devil himself.
One particularly creative gentleman suggested I fold myself in half seventeen times to create a black hole and then have intercourse with said hole while my company’s headquarters were sucked into the event horizon. Points for creativity. Deductions for misogyny. Although, in fairness to the man, I have no trouble believing he’d have said something similar to a male rep.
That day only two people picked up. One hung up immediately. The other launched into a tirade of such intensity and fervor that I was worried he wouldn’t make it to the end of the call.
“And another thing!” the man shouted as I quietly ate a sandwich on the other end. “Your website looks like it was designed by some rock monkey with shit for brains and feet for hands!” he screamed at me. This was an insult I hadn’t heard before. Variations on it appeared with some regularity, sometimes with racial overtones. I’m not entirely sure why this was, given that I had no accent identifying me as anything other than white, and in fact I wasn’t. The assumption seemed to be that because I worked in customer service I must be Indian. This leap in logic went unquestioned by a surprising number of my interlocutors. The average consumer of cellular services in this country is a few rocks short of an avalanche themself.
“I’m sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations,” I said dryly, reading from the part of the script labeled “negative responses.”
“And I’m sorry that you people haven’t gone back to where you come from!” the man shouted.
“I’m from Omaha sir,” I said.
“Where you’re really from!” he shouted back.
“I’m really from Omaha sir,’ I responded tiredly. “And so is my father and his father, and before that we came over from England.” This prompted a string of racial epithets I’d rather not repeat. The rest of the day went like this, and after a while I defaulted to flatly repeating “I'm sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations.”
My faith in humanity dimmed with each passing call. I decided to slip out at 4:00. I figured no one would notice. I figured right.
***
It was Wednesday: trash day. The walk from my apartment to the dumpsters was a dismal affair. Despite gray skies, cold fog and a pounding headache, the excursion did at least deliver the best part of my day. A few guys catcalled me on the way to the curb, and for a moment I felt like something other than a disgusting blob of flesh.
But then the thoughts started back in and made me realize that the men’s comments had not been compliments but acts of aggression. As I dragged the empty trash cans back to my apartment, the men once more yelled out their opinions on my face, my tits, my ass. In response, my mind conjured scenes from my dream – melted flesh, the endless unanswerable question: “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
By the time I’d made it back to my apartment I was practically in tears. At that moment, however, I remembered that the doll had been delivered earlier. It was time, I supposed, to open it.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, the package yielded its contents, and I nearly fell over when I saw it for the first time. It looked exactly like Sarah. Her little, premature hands. Her closed, screwed up eyes. Everything.
I held the tiny plastic facsimile against my chest and sobbed into it. I apologized to it over and over again:
“I’m sorry Sarah. I’m so sorry.”
But nothing could have prepared me for the moment that it spoke back:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I screamed and fell backwards. The floor flew up to meet me and struck the back of my head with overwhelming force, driving the tears out even faster through a combination of momentum and pain.
“What did you say?” I asked, with a shaking voice.
For a moment, the doll was quiet, its little eyes still shut against the world. Then, they snapped open. Its little mouth opened and flopped around like a fish before repeating:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I threw it across the room. It was an instinct, but a second later, I felt bad. It was like seeing Sarah’s death all over again. The doll screamed and cried.
Why did you hurt me, Mama?
It asked in its sad, childlike voice.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I threw up again and again, my body shaking uncontrollably. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. That thing was nothing more than a hunk of colored plastic. When there was nothing left to expel from my stomach except bile, I returned to the front room and slowly approached the doll where it lay in the corner.
Its eyes snapped to mine.
Why did you leave me, Mama?
I picked it up and hurled it out the window. For a moment, I thought that I should try and call the short Russian man who had sold me the monstrosity but then I remembered that it was 8:30 on a Wednesday. Not even Russians have that kind of work ethic.
Instead, I poured a glass of wine with shaking fingers and turned on the TV, desperate for something, anything to break the silence. As the news blared and the alcohol entered my veins, I was almost able to convince myself that the last few minutes hadn’t happened. But then the screen began flashing images of babies in incubators – victims of some war halfway around the world. Protestors marched through the streets, holding images of the poor, malnourished infants, and listing out those they felt were responsible. Before I turned it off, I could have sworn that one of them turned to the screen and said my name.
***
When I did fall asleep, it was only after many hours of crying and shaking. As returned the silence, so returned my certainty that I had heard the doll speaking. But human frailty won the day, and my brain surrendered to darkness once more.
In my dream, I saw Tim holding little Sarah and crying. He held her close and put the tiny baby girl to his face, kissing her again and again. Then he turned to me with an eyeless face and spoke with a toothless mouth:
Why didn’t you save her, Mary?
I tried to scream but in this world I could not make a sound. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and I felt like I was breathing in the ocean. Then, little Sarah looked at me with her little melting face and said:
Didn’t you love me, Mama?
When I didn’t answer, the tiny melted eyes burned with rage.
I hate you Mama. Everybody hates you. You throw me out the window?! You should jump out yourself and do the world a favor you worthless sack of human garbage forgotten by God. Why are you even alive you heartless bitch?
I kept trying to scream but nothing would come out. I tried to apologize but could only feel the sensation of water rushing into my lungs. Sarah began to say, over and over:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me–
I woke with a start to find the doll inches from my face. It was shouting at me:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
This time, I did scream, and batted it away from my face. The horrible thing, which somehow had reappeared in my house after I’d thrown it out of a 7th story window, began to sob in the corner where it fell. It looked up at me with its tiny heartbroken eyes and quivering lips as it asked me:
Why did you hurt me, Mama? Do you hate me?
Without thinking, I said, “Of course I don’t hate you, sweetie. Mommy loves you very much.” I froze. What was I doing? This thing wasn’t Sarah. It wasn’t even a person.
Then why did you hurt me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me?
I buried my head in my hands. “I couldn’t save you! I’m sorry!” The tears continued to pour from my eyes in rivers, soaking the arms of my shirt.
You didn’t deserve me, Mama. You coldhearted cunt. You shouldn’t even be alive.
I looked at the thing in shock. Hearing those words in a child’s voice was somehow far worse. It couldn’t stay in my house. Not one second longer. But throwing it out the window hadn’t worked, so I had to come up with another plan. I grabbed the hateful thing and carried it to the fireplace. It screamed all the while, sobbing just like a child in pain.
Don’t burn me Mama! Don’t hurt me! Why are you doing this?
I was undeterred. The fire roared to life, and I hurled it into the hottest part of the blaze as it hurled insults back at me.
Nobody’s ever loved you! Why do you think Tim left, you stupid bitch? If he really loved you, he’d have stayed!
Slowly but surely, the thing melted in the flames. Its little face turned to mush, then to liquid, then to ash. The smell was atrocious, but at least it was gone. I lay panting on the floor, crying but relieved.
Later, I called the Russian man and told him that something was terribly wrong with his doll. He listened to my story, then said, not without empathy:
“Maybe you should go back to this doctor? The one who referred you here?”
It was the most polite way that someone had ever called me crazy. Seeing that this was a mistake, somewhat too late to avoid it, unfortunately, I hung up.
Work was no better than it had been the day before. I listened as people berated me over the phone, and read from my script in a monotone voice. I was no more useful than a robot. As the insults went on and on, I began to dissociate from my body. My mouth said the words in the script, but my brain had no say in the matter. The words simply spilled from me like tears from my eyes.
At lunch, I sat next to Jim. I’d always liked Jim. Had a huge crush on him since the day we’d met. Normally, we took our lunch breaks at different times, but that day the stars aligned. The biggest problem with talking to Jim had always been that we had zero interests in common. But that day, the TV in the break room happened to flip to a channel playing a soccer match. We discovered that we were both huge fans, and finally I had something I could say to him.
Things couldn’t have been going better until I looked down and saw, under the table, something that made me jump a foot in the air.
The doll.
It was staring up at me with its cold eyes and sneering mouth.
You can’t get rid of me, Mama. No matter how much you want to.
Jim looked at me strangely, and I apologized, making some halfhearted excuse that I probably wouldn’t have believed coming from him.
What makes you think he’d be interested in someone like you? Have you looked in a mirror sometime this decade? Unless he’s got a corpse fetish I’d say you’re about two decades too old for him.
I stared down at the doll so long, Jim asked me what was going on. I picked it up, and showed him. When he asked what it was, I hesitated before answering. Eventually, I lied and said that it was a present for my daughter.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Jim said.
“Yeah, I gave birth a couple of months ago,” I replied, which was not technically a lie.
Of course it’s a lie you worthless bitch. If you told him the truth he’d run screaming into the street. The only reason he’s stuck around this long is because there’s only one break room. Nobody will ever love you. Nobody.
“Stop it!” I yelled, before remembering that Jim had no idea what this thing was. He looked at me strangely and I bolted out of the room, sobbing and cursing the malevolent presence in my arms. It cursed me right back:
What the fuck’s wrong with you? Why would you even talk to him? You’re a disgusting pile of shit and vomit unworthy of life. You know what you could do to make Jim’s life better? You could slam your fucking head through a plate glass window and spray the side of the building with blood until you fucking die.
“Stop it!” I shouted, and threw it onto the floor as I ran to my car. But, there it was inside, waiting for me, its hateful sneer plastered onto its tiny, childlike face.
What’s the matter Mary? Can’t handle the truth? Can’t handle knowing that you’re a failure as a mother and the ugliest bitch who ever lived?
I sank to my knees and screamed, holding my head with both hands and begging the hateful thing to stop. But it didn’t. It kept pummeling me with insults and threats until I couldn’t take it one second longer. I got into the driver’s seat and floored the accelerator, taking the car onto the freeway, then to the nearest exit, then right off the edge of a cliff.
As the car soared through the air, there was a tiny moment of quiet before gravity took over. It was only an instant, but in that instant I realized that I was going to die. So for the first time in weeks, I smiled.
***
The next thing I can remember is tremendous pain. My eyes hadn’t even opened yet, but even though the world was dark, it was still full of suffering. Then, in the next instant, my eyes flew open. There, at the edge of the bed, looking at me with all the hate in the world, was a familiar hateful face.
Welcome back to the land of the living, bitch. Couldn’t even get suicide right, could you?
I had no energy left to sob. Instead, I hung my head in defeat, looking at the tiny hunk of plastic staring up at me and wishing to God that I’d chosen a higher cliff. Soon, a man in a white lab coat walked in and smiled.
“Hello Mary,” he said.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“They checked your wallet when they pulled you out of the car. Your driver’s license was right on top,” he replied, still smiling.
“Right,” I said, not smiling back.
“I’m not going to lie to you, that was a close call there. But you’re going to be okay. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
I immediately became wary, but nodded my head.
“Before the accident, do you recall feeling lightheaded or dizzy?
I shook my head.
“Any alcohol or drug use?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, good. And have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself in the past week?”
This was the question I’d been waiting for. I shook my head again, knowing that an affirmative answer would mean at least a 3-day psychiatric hold. As soon as they learned about the doll, God knows how long it’d last.
“Excellent. You should be able to get out of here in a couple of days. You’ll have to be careful with those casts, but everything will be okay.” I nodded again, and he left. The doll popped its little face back off the bedsheets and set itself right back to its task: destroying my mind and soul. As the night wore on, I sat there, frozen, as it continued to pound me with reminders of my inadequacies, my faults, my failures. From time to time, I had to stand and it stood with me, clinging to my hospital gown as I made my way to the bathroom, to the cafeteria or to have one test or another performed. From that moment on, it was never quiet, though I seemed to be the only one who could hear it. Whether it was reminding me of that time in 3rd grade when Johnny Welkins had rejected me in front of the entire class, or the time that I’d sat through an entire date before realizing my shirt was on inside out, or berating me about letting the original Sarah die, it was always saying something degrading and humiliating.
By then, I’d become numb to the abuse. I never responded or argued. I never fought back or tried to get rid of it. Once or twice, I accidentally crushed it under my foot, but it always ended up right back where it had started: on my hospital bed, eyes burning with rage and lips firing off insult after insult.
***
The last night I was in the hospital, I dreamt of Tim. I dreamt of the last time that I’d seen him before he disappeared forever. He stood in the doorway, blocking it with a stern face and large hands. I kept trying to push past him, but he wouldn’t let me. Eventually, we fought, and he threw me to the floor. I landed on my stomach so hard all the air flew out of my lungs.
When I woke, the doll was standing over me, and it had gone back to its familiar mantra:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I sighed and focused on filling out the discharge forms that the nurse had left. They were long and boring, and it was no simple task to complete them with the doll repeating its horrible question again and again and again. Eventually, I finished, and an orderly wheeled me out to my car, the doll clinging to my shoulder and shouting abuse into my ear.
A single tear fell from my eye and rolled down my cheek as I climbed in to the driver’s seat and started the engine.
***
When I arrived home, I collapsed on my bed and began to weep. I wept like a child. I wept so loud in fact that I couldn’t even hear the doll as it broke down my door and resumed berating me. But I ignored it. I ignored it as I made dinner. I ignored it as I took out the trash. I ignored it as I returned to bed and tried to sleep. But it wouldn’t stop. Finally, it got close to my face and screamed right into my ear:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
And, for the first time since the accident, I replied, shouting: “What do you want from me?! I couldn’t save you, Sarah! I couldn’t!”
Liar! You could’ve saved me! You know you could’ve!
In that instant, it finally pushed me past my breaking point. I picked it up and shook it as hard as I could, screaming: “What could I have done? What was I supposed to do? What do you want from me?! Why are you doing this to me?!” The doll looked at me with cold, hateful eyes and said:
You could’ve stopped Tim.
I froze. “What do you mean?” I asked.
You know what I mean, Mama. You know what he did. Why didn’t you stand up to him? Why didn’t you stop him?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I shouted.
Yes you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
“No!” I shouted. “No, I couldn’t stop him!” But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.
We both know why the stillbirth really happened, don’t we, Mary?
I shook uncontrollably and ran into the backyard to get away from the doll, but it only appeared right in front of me, scowling down at me as I tripped and fell. It pointed to the ground and began to raise its little arms. The ground shook and trembled and I shouted at it, begged it to stop, but it was too late. In one enormous burst the ground split open and a body fell next to me.
It was Tim.
Why didn’t you save me from him, Mary?
The doll asked. I continued sobbing, but managed to respond, “I couldn’t save you Sarah. But I could get you justice.”
The doll’s face softened a little, and for the first time, the fire went out of its eyes. It crawled up next to me and buried its little face into my chest, and let me hold it, just like I’d always wanted to do.
I stroked its hair and whispered to it, over and over again, “I would’ve saved you if I could.”
And in its tiny, childlike voice, the doll replied, “I know.” Then it closed its little eyes, nuzzled close into my chest, and heaved a heavy sigh before never moving again.

Note that this includes legacy & posthumous acts which the labels still distribute (according to their own websites).
Universal labels
Republic: Birdman, Drake, Kid Cudi, Lil Tecca, Lil Wayne, Metro Boomin, NAV, Nicki Minaj, Pop Smoke, Post Malone, Ski Mask the Slump God, Yung Gravy
Interscope: 2Pac, 42 Dugg, Bas, DaBaby, Dr. Dre, Eminem, GloRilla, J. Cole, Jay Rock, JID, Juice WRLD, Kendrick Lamar, MGK, Moneybagg Yo, Pi’erre Bourne, Playboi Carti, Rae Sremmurd, ScHoolboy Q, Sheck Wes, Stormzy
Capitol: City Girls, Ice Spice, Lil Baby, Lil Yachty, Migos, Vince Staples, YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Def Jam: 2 Chainz, Armani White, Big Sean, Buju Banton, DMX, Fabolous, Hit-Boy, Jadakiss, Jeezy, LL Cool J, Public Enemy, Pusha T
Sony labels
RCA: A$AP Mob, Childish Gambino, Doja Cat, Flo Milli, G-Eazy, Kevin Abstract, Latto, Skepta, Young Nudy
Epic: 21 Savage, Andre 3000, BIA, Black Eyed Peas, Busta Rhymes, DDG, Future, Swizz Beatz, Travis Scott
Columbia: 24KGoldn, Baby Keem, Central Cee, Fivio Foreign, Joey Bada$$, Lil Nas X, Lil Peep, Lil Tjay, Nelly, Pharrell Williams, Polo G, Tyler the Creator, XXXTentacion
Warner labels
Atlantic: A Boogie wit da Hoodie, Cardi B, Don Toliver, Finesse2Tymes, Gucci Mane, Jack Harlow, Kevin Gates, Lil Uzi Vert, Lizzo, Missy Elliott, Pooh Shiesty, Rico Nasty, Roddy Ricch, Ty Dolla $ign
300 Elektra: Fetty Wap, Gunna, Megan Thee Stallion, Young Thug
Warner: 2Rare, Earl Sweatshirt, Mac Miller, NLE Choppa, Saweetie