Dont judge me poems

Why is it so difficult to write about you, love? Why is it different to love you?
I have always dreamt of you exactly as you are. I had never experienced love before you. I had given up hope of finding you, and then you came when I least expected it. You are exactly what I wished for all these years, exactly that.
I never wanted you to be good-looking, though you are. Prettier than the moon, I must say. You are everything I ever wished for.
You are my unbearable grief that took me years to overcome, as it never left my side. You are that anger in me that never found anyone to be angry with rightfully. You are that pain of mine that I never had the courage to show because I was too afraid of being judged. You are that disappointment I always expect before starting something, but it turns out to be an absolutely wonderful experience. You are my honesty that people hesitate to hear.
And you, you are the warm hands I always wanted to hold. You are those butterflies in my stomach that didn't end up being anxiety and eventually physical pain at midnight. You are the writer by whom I always wanted to be written. You are that beautiful poem I always wanted to read. You are the peace I always wanted to hear, as loud as it can get.
You are the home I was always seeking for years. You are that secure feeling of my heart where I am not scared to lose anything. You are the moon I love staring at for hours. I never found myself to be beautiful; I never found myself worthy of being loved. As I am experiencing it now, it feels new but not uneasy. I would never understand why anyone would ever love me, why anyone would write about me, why anyone would find me interesting, but I don't really want to know the answer to those questions. I'm just happy being loved and being able to love.
I love you!

(May 12, 2024 - 11:17 PM)
I hope you never find this.
hi E----, it's me again., si migs. If you don't remember who that is, I'm the guy who courted you, who gave you letters and poems, who you called your "human diary". And I know it's been a while, antagal na rin nating hindi nag-uusap, hell antagal na rin kitang hindi nasusulatan ng letters. But this is the final letter, I'll ever dedicate to you and I hope you never find this. Actually matagal ko na tong gustong gawin, I could just never face the truth dati. The naked truth na takot akong bitawan ka.
Pero dati na yon, I'm all good and I've actually moved on na rin. Heck, di ko na nga talaga to dapat gagawin pero something came up and here I am.
I'm letting you go.
I know haha, it's quite ironic na ngayon ko lang nasabi 'to sayo kahit na ako yung nagsabi ng "please, let me go". It's hilarious and yes I admit medyo nakakalito (believe me kahit ako na confuse as to why ako ganito non). But naked truth, you were very hard to let go.
One, you're fucking pretty. Your pictures, your voice, your mindset, everything about you was beautiful, and maybe it was just infatuation or maybe obsessed lang talaga ako sayo.
Two, you were everywhere, nung time na blinock kita, which was 8 months ago (damn), I couldn't smile for weeks. Because everything beautiful reminded me of you.
It fucking sucks to be a poet, because it shed light to the truth of the saying that "you could never really appreciate beauty once you lose the person you love" and that's true because I loved you. When you were gone, I saw you everywhere, I saw you in sunsets, in flowers, in the clouds, even in songs, all I could think of was you, anything beautiful tol, nandun ka. And I couldn't enjoy anything for weeks kasi nga maaalala lang kita. I couldn't even enjoyn reading kase nung nakabili ako ng libro, I printed some of your pictures (photocard size) and used it as bookmarks, kase photocards talaga bookmarks ko. So for months talaga di nagalaw mga books ko and once I started reading them again, BOOM mukha mo, ang ganda, shet tiklop nanaman.
Three, you were my home. I've come to associate that term with you, ever since you recommended me that song on facebook. "oh home, let me come home... home is wherever I'm with you." Rest, solace, comfort, I found that in you. And as we got to know each other more, I found the freedom to become myself. Which is why I always felt safe whenever it was you. And likewise rin sayo, as you said noon.
But why I'm letting you go is because I realized that I didn't deserve the treatment you gave me. Throughout the time na nililigawan kita, I always felt alone. During that time I was always trying to rationalize why I felt that way and what I could do to fix it. But you can't rationalize emotions, you feel them. And that was my mistake kase I bottled it up but it eventually broke through me, then it broke me. I tried to communicate that naman, but nothing really changed, and lumala lang. Kaya yeah.
I'm done looking at it through rose colored glasses.
As you can see medyo nahirapan talaga akong mag move on kasi whenever I thought of you, all I could remember was the sweet moments natin, even if we had few. Never the sleepless nights, never the breakdowns, not even the times that I apologized because I was hurt that you couldn't have time for me. Listen I understand it now, how hard it is maging senior high. And I tried to understand it then. It's draining and minsan talaga nakakawalang gana makipag usap sa tao. But I tried naman, I adjusted, you know that. Saan ka man comfortable, sige dun tayo. Once a week nalang mag usap? sige goo.
I thought I knew what price I was paying but, that gradually crushed me. How I would update you throughout my day, fucking send 14 messages na may mga paragraph pa, only for you to reply with 4-6 messages, sometimes none. And yeah idk why but ako pa rin yung nag a-apologize nung time na yon. Maybe it's because of how I was brought up, but I considered it my fault that I was feeling that way.
I'm done apologizing.
Did you know that this letter has had about 7 drafts already, throughout different times I tried to write this final letter and I always gave up after the first paragraph. Wanna know why? Because in all 7 letters, the most recurring words were "I'm sorry".
"I'm sorry if you felt like you were responsible for my feelings" "I'm sorry I was hurt" "I'm sorry that I became a burden on you"
I always felt so bad after attempting to write this letter then, it was like having a knife to my neck. Well I'm done with that already. I'm done apologizing for things I shouldn't be.
Listen I'm not mad at you, I don't hate you, nor am I asking you for an apology. You're not obligated to do that to me. It's okay. We don't have to apologize to one another, I've forgiven you and I'm choosing to move on na. Not for you, and especially not for love, but for me.
How could you.
I just wanna address the whole telegram thing, cause I feel the need to. It was just a little insensitive kasi nga we weren't on the best of terms nung time na yon. Yun yung nag pa block ka sakin. And yeah you know naman what we were going through. Medyo nagulat lang ako na you just talked to me like that, so casually. I was hurting and healing at the same time pero damn. tas sinabi mo pa yung "kung tayo, edi tayo" line and that seriously fucked me up. Kase at the time I was trying to give up on that na, cause I thought you did too. Pero yeah, now I've given up on that na, I hope u do too.
(Also I told u non sa pasko mo ko ichat ulit kasi I wasn't ready to talk to you again that time. Pero you stood me up, so yeah, fun christmas.)
Move on too.
I know this may seem late but move on too, although I think you already did judging on your replies sa sayout ( i don't remember typing that, so it must be someone else). But yeah move on na rin and give up on the idea that we'll ever meet and be together. Kase I've given up na. I've grieved losing you long enough. I hope that you move on, find someone new as well, and hopefully see that person in your future. Good luck sa future mo, I hope you pursue engineering, whatever you choose to do, you have my support, as your friend.
P.S. I found God
Well more like he found me again, nung time na nililigawan kita, I was distant from God for reasons beyond you, pero I still had a little amount of faith. Kahit distant ako non I prayed for you on two or three seperate occasions, one of which (namention ko na to sayo) was on the same week I considered being an atheist. Back then I was asking God for a sign if you were the one and he never gave me one pero pinilit ko kase kaya yeah. Then, I would've turned my back on God's plan if it meant I would be with you. But now balaka jan I'm walking with the man who saved my soul. And same thing happened with this girl I like sa church. Man 10/10 talaga siya but prayer ko lang for the girl is "your will be done Lord". And I guess 'di talaga will ni Lord kaya I surrendered it to God, but man she's so pretty.
yun lang, oh and ang ganda ng buwan tonight.

Not a poem , but some thoughts
As a perso. Who grew up loving poetry and rich culture , I find it very hard to love modern english poetry , let me explain . I am natively an arab , and arab poems are really dense and rich with emotion , heavy expressions , soulfelt problems and in general very ... advanced Arabic level . So when I learned english , I tried my best to improve , and when I started writing english poetry I mimicked the arab poetry which is very similar to Shakespearian poetry , aka old british poetry, the classic . And when I read poetry, I was only reading and writing that type of poetry, incase it was arab , french or english. So when I downloaded poetizer and joined this subreddit , I knew immediately that modern poetry is much more commun ,but it doesn't just click for me . Modern poetry is fragile, weak , simple , not rhythming (not attractive to the ear) emotionally absent and mostly based arround sex in a very vulgar way .
Anyone else feel the same way in regards to modern poetry ? Or is it just me ?
Ps: I don't mean to judge anyone , I am not criticizing you personally, but the genre in general . Ps2: If you enter my account , you will know that I haven't posted anything on this account since in all my poems , I show my purest and deepest emotion , which I don't want people to know them , so I use alternate accounts for poetgram ,poetizer , and reddit .
Peace out , keep on keeping up.
Edit : i posted some of my poems on my profile , you can check them out , they're in ocpoetry .

Hi i have just joined reddit and this is my very first post. so i pray i get it right.
A few days ago, on the spur of the moment i sensed with every fiber of my being that i needed to sit and write this poem that i post below. I had been struggling the last few weeks due to feelings that i was in the wrong by a local community group in regard to asking for them to not take photos and videos that had me in them and then share them without consent. i tried to explain the right to privacy and autonomy not just for someone like me on the autism spectrum, or with a disability but i gave other potential scenarios like domestic violence, a minor in foster care, court order, body dysmorphia. And i explained that no one should have to feel as i do where it is dismissed, that i have to explain myself, or worse made to feel that you are in the wrong or in my case i clouded a community event because i asked for a photo and video to be taken down or edited. I knew i was potentially sticking my head out on the chopping block but i tried to reason and educate not attack. and i tried to convey that this was as much of a protection for themselves and that they may to a degree have a certain level of duty of care to its members, along with the importance of inclusiveness. and sadly, as expected they had plenty of say including its what the majority wants. Several days ago, i went to a meeting and i felt this topic would arise. so, i sat down and made dot points so that i could try and keep myself on track and not lose my words if i got overwhelmed. unfortunately, my support worker was not available to attend with me that day. But i felt i needed to do this in part as i am working on advocating for self and setting boundaries. it was half and hour before attending that a strong spiritual sense came through that i needed to write my poem. write it and share it with them... which is what i did. and i would like to share this with you know.....
BUT WHAT YOU ALSO DO NOT KNOW
I struggle
I struggle to connect to people, to socialize and to feel part of a community
i struggle with making small talk and of being in large crowds of people due to sensory issues in part
i struggle with my anxiety when i attend new groups on my own without my supports
i struggle with acceptance, understanding and lack of compassion form others as i don't understand why
i struggle to be heard and seen. To communicate my needs, to set boundaries and to advocate for myself
i struggle with the shame with being overweight and also overwhelmed and for society's view on this topic. and for getting so many things wrong
i struggle with keeping a roof over my head, with daily tasks and personal care that you may take for granted. or with holding down a job where i am valued and appreciated and not taken advantage of
i struggle when people look at me with judgement when i explained that until recently i was homeless
i struggle with a lifetime of being bullied. ridiculed for my body, for being different. and i struggle with having been sexually assaulted, dealing with stalkers in my past and the way it has made me feel about myself, my self-loathing of my body, need for privacy and for feelings of somehow it was my fault, that i deserved it.
i struggle with feelings that somehow i am being unreasonable and difficult, that i am wrong and my choices and opinions do not count
i struggle with feeling connection in a loving relationship and also with my adult children. i struggle with not knowing how to connect with them, have a relationship with them and i struggle with the guilt and shame that comes with that. and i struggle with fear that they will tire of me, cut me out of their lives because of this
i struggle with being alone. for spending my entire life on the outside looking in, including with my family. And i struggle with feelings of not belonging of being broken and being no part of this world
i struggle with being judged that I'm not enough or too much. judged that im lazy, stupid or worse that i am screwing the system and i do not deserve or should be getting the supports i am receiving
BUT. What do you also do not know?
that i struggle to wear a mask to hide all of this inside of me in the hopes that i will be accepted
that i struggle with the daily energy i need to expend just to try and look like i am functioning normally
i struggle when i am emotionally overwhelmed, hyper aroused, derailed as i can take days or weeks to recover
i struggle with the lost time of days and weeks that can never be recovered
i struggle with the bucket load of tears as i withdraw, shut down and want to run
We all have a story to tell. Mine is living with autism., with cptsd, adhd and generalized anxiety disorder
and what i struggle with the most? is having to explain and defend myself when i dare to say no or to speak out for my rights of inclusion that includes the right to privacy and autonomy.
Lets just say when i read it out other than one person loudly proclaiming that he is not going to sit here and listen to this shit and walk out, everyone else were dead quite. and afterwards when i am looking to bolt, to run in tears? one beautiful soul who gets me as he lives with this too and was thankfully there to support me as everyone else gave me a wide birth. or were outright hostile. i know this is a reflection on them not me.
but sadly, last night and today i have had to deal with feelings of embarrassment and shame within myself and question whether i did the right thing to share this. and am really struggling with even the thought of going down to the local shops. i live in a small island community and what i struggle and fear the most now is that they see me with pity. and not with understanding and compassion.

I don't remember much from as back as my first grade in school but I remember how strongly this line resonated with me when I first heard it in class (which only further makes me believe it had strong meaning to me even back then):
What made me as a human, why didn't I come as a rain? (translation from 19th century national poem) -
I would definitely be the rain, totally untouchable and irrelevant to all human struggles, I would be anonymous like that, totally out of reach of being judged, evaluated or seen; observing this world and this weird society from spectator mode, forever beyond physicality, into the metaphysical realm and even beyond that.

For what it's worth I got 44/55 on the MCQ on the same practice test, or 80% Original is here https://secure-media.collegeboard.org/digitalServices/pdf/ap/ap-european-history-ced-practice-exam.pdf
You can also just do some or skim them if you don't have the time, which is understandable, 100% fine by me. Just be honest, that's all
FIRST SAQ
a. Napoleon's imposition of republican systems on various puppet states. During his wars of conquest, Napoleon would occupy various territories, and set up republics in them, for instance, the Batavian Republic. These were nepotistic in many ways, yet even so, they still partially preserved many of the ideals held by the Jacobins and other related parties. This ultimately shows a specific conflict: that of contemporary republicanism vs. traditional monarchism, which would go on to be a defining ideological issue later on in the century.
b. Napoleon's authoritarian policies. Consolidating his territories, he would institute various laws, such as the Napoleonic Code, building an efficient bureaucracy to maintain them. However, these laws not only reflected traditional treatment of groups such as women, but also were backed up by actions such as the repression of the press, and Napoleon's later coronation as emperor. These actions reeked of tradition, calling back to the older monarchies of Europe, rather than the modern parliamentary states.
c. The Nazi occupation of large portions of Europe. In 1939, having previously annexed Czechoslovakia and Austria, Germany would declare war on Poland, thus setting World War II into motion. They occupied large swathes of territory, and would force their own ideological ideals of national and racial superiority onto others. They attempted to create a new Europe, essentially, dominated by "superior" peoples, but they found great resistance from the masses, who resented these policies, wanting to maintain their old conceptions of nationality. This shows how the struggle between the Nazis and other groups was focused on imposing something new on others who had preferred traditional methods, similar to how Napoleon's newer ideas were not well received by some of the territories he conquered, who preferred older ways.
SECOND SAQ
a. The increase in population brought about by the Industrial Revolution. The discovery of new technology such as the steam engine and of agricultural implements such as the seed drill (from the Agricultural Revolution, closely linked to the Industrial Revolution) allowed for more food, which naturally meant more people could fed, which led to a higher populaton. Cities like Vienna would want to accomodate the growing masses of people who were to live in their realms, and would act accordingly, embarking on infrastructural projects such as the one shown in the map to do so.
b. An attempt to encourage centralization. Austria at this time was composed of many different ethnic groups, including but not limited to Germans, Czechs, Slovaks, Hungarians, Ukrainians, Croats, and others. They had little in common, and this caused issues, especially in Bohemia and Hungary. To help combat this, Austria may have wanted to make their capital seem grander and more luxurious in a way, which would encourage nationalism (a rising trend around this time) and to hopefully keep the country together. This shows a trend in which countries would increasingly focus on centralization, as seen even in areas such as Germany, which would later unite in 1871.
c. The de-emphasis of luxury in narrow areas, as opposed to "specialized" areas instead. Vienna, like many other cities in Europe is very old, and most of the streets are narrow and organically made. People seemed to have been comfortable with this previously, yet as the 19th century developed, new ideas on architecture began to grow in popularity, as people advocated for the creation of areas specifically designed for leisure and similar purposes. This is indicative of the fact that people saw cities less as natural phenomenons, but more like artificial constructs which could be efficiently managed and built, similar to, say, Hausmann's architectural rennovations in Paris.
THIRD SAQ
a. Parliament went from supporting intersections between church and state to outright despising it. Around 1517, when Martin Lutther released his Ninety-Five Theses, England was still Catholic, and Henry VIII even published a pamphlet defending the Catholic faith. However, around 1533, when the Church refused to annull his marriage, he established the Anglican Church, becoming Protestant and breaking from Catholicism. However, the English government still had a close relationship with the church. This would change with the rise of movements such as Puritanism, a vaguely Calvinist movement. The Puritans believed the Anglican Church was corrupt in many ways, and some, namely the Pilgrims, even advocated total separation. Puritans were well represented in Parliament, which allowed them to attack the church from the state, which ultimately culminated in the English Civil War, and the beheading of Charles I. This demonstrates that overtime, Parliament (the state) turned against Anglicanism (the church), showing a marked separation of church and state.
b. The English Civil War did not really end religious laws in the country. As was typical of every country at the time, 16th century England possessed numerous religious laws, including some based around heresy. This did not change with the rise of the Puritans, who established strict religious laws of their own, for example, restricting the rights of Roman Catholics. The continuity here is that religious ideas still held massive sway when it came to English law.
c. A disillusionment with religious rule. Both the Reformation and the English Civil War had religious undercurrents, with the Reformation promising a return to a purer form of Christianity, and the English Civil War partially centered around the idea that the king was leading a "popish" (pro-Catholic) plot to restore the religion in the country. Later philosophers including Thomas Hobbes and John Locke would have seen these conflicts, with the hindsight to judge them, and would begin proposing newer ideas of governing which were not based on religion. This shows that the damage caused by tension between these two groups came to such a severe extent that some began seeing secularism as a possible solution, which would be adopted later on in England.
DBQ
Even though old attitudes towards women continued to persist, overall, World War I greatly changed the lives of European women, as shown by the increased involvement of women in manufacturing, and their heightened participation in conflict.
Traditionally, women in Europe had restricted rights. They could neither properly represent themselves legally, nor vote. Wives were thought to be subservient to their husbands, and only suitable for domestic duties. The Victorian ideal of a perfect wife was one who would constantly occupy herself with housework and maintaining order in the family. Women who tried other roles were considered rough, tomboyish, or rustic, which were all seen as negative qualities. In a nutshell, they were second class citizens. Some, especially wealthier women, would gain respect as cultured authors, examples include Jane Austen and George Sand (who had to use a male pseudonym). However, overall, women were simply seen as inferior to men, who controlled the bureaucratic structures of Europe. Yet, less than a decade after WWI, many European countries granted women the right to vote.
The magazine Votes for Women published an article on November 26, 1915, which shows a woman personifying the concept of chivalry presenting the idea of women's equality to a man, who is advocating for more political representation for soldiers (Document 1). Now this is a political cartoon in a newspaper, and so it was meant to reach a broader audience of politically informed citizens. It is worth pointing out that this was published shortly after the sinking of the Anglia, in which female nurses died prioritizing wounded servicemen. The idea was that women were simply dignified enough to obtain legal equality, and that changes in legislation were overdue because of this, an idea the newspaper would've been effective enough at promoting. In addition, a memoir written by Maria Botchkareva in 1919 explains her life as a peasant and an officer (Document 6). This is as close to a direct perspective as you can get, it quite literally comes from a woman who experienced the war first-hand. Botchkareva explains that although man of the men in her unit were hesitant to advance, the women were brave enough to do so, showing that women were just as capable in military matters as men were, thus providing a justification for women to vote. Seeing as all the men had left for war, women had taken up manufacturing roles, being 40.4% of the industrial workforce in France in 1917 (Document 7). This reflects the increased involvement of women in manufacturing jobs. Countess de Courson's book The French Woman during the War, published in 1916, shows how difficult maintaining the war effort was for many peasant women, and their resolve to continue to do so anyways (Document 3). Again, this is evidence of the fact that women were seen as capable contributors to their homelands, another justification for giving them the right to vote. Madeline Ida Bedford wrote a poem in 1917 showing the upwards economic mobility of women during the war (Document 4). This helps support the idea that women had a greater and more significant role in economic affairs, related to manufacturing. Finally, it is worth pointing out that the war left many wives alone from their husbands. This undoubtedly gave them a large amount of time to reflect over societal conditions, and aided the rise of the suffragette movement as they had more time to think independently.
The counter-argument to be held, supported by two pieces of evidence, argues that the war was ultimately insignificant in transforming the role of women. The first comes from Paul von Hindenburg's letter to German Chancellor Bethmann Hollweg in 1916, arguing that women shouldn't be encouraged to pursue various occupations, and that they were only really suited for specific ones (Document 2). However, Hindenburg, though an important general, was extremely conservative (and old). Therefore, his views are not sufficiently representative of contemporary European trends. As a matter of fact, by arguing against the trend of women's involvement in manufacturing and war, he implicitly confirms his existence, only further advancing the pro-change argument. There is also a letter from G. F. Wilby to his fiancée Ethel Baxter in 1918, arguing that she should continue with her feminine occupations, and not meddle in what he considered masculine affairs (Document 5). Wilby, however, was just a private, and although any source of historical information can be valuable, again, one private is not totally representative of the ideas of the general population. Even then, in the same manner as Hindenburg, Wilby supports the idea that the condition of women changed significantly during the war, as by arguing against it, again, he implicitly supports it.
LEQ
The Italian Renaissance focused on human beings as ends to themselves, whereas the Northern Renaissance focused more on people's connection to God and religion, as seen by the advocacy of thinkers such as Petrarch of a better understanding of the human condition, and the advocacy of thinkers like Erasmus of "purification" and a closer connection to God.
Italy before the Renaissance was dominated by city states which had grown into greater powers. Examples include Florence, Venice, Genoa, Milan, Bologna, and others. These states were representative republics (although sometimes despotates) in theory, but oligarchies in practice. Furthermore, even if it hadn't existed in almost a millennium, the shadow of the Roman Empire lurked on the states and their culture. This emphasized both indivdualism and an obsession with classical Rome/Greece. Meanwhile, northern Europe was largely composed of monarchies with close ties to the Catholic Church. Controversies over issues such as indulgences and tithes may well have resulted in increased religious dialogue, various criticisms, and the exploration of newer paths in regards to Christianity.
When Petrarch discovered Cicero's letters to Athens, it helped spark a revolution in Italian thought. People began to abandon the old scholastic trifecta of law, medicine, and theology, for example, but instead adopted the study logic, rhetoric, and grammar. This, combined with the neo-Platonist idea that various concepts such as beauty transcended life, and that humans could understand these concepts, gave birth to humanism, which in turn sparked the Italian Renaissance. This put special emphasis on human beings, who were now seen as special and worthy of study. This is in contrast to the Northern Renaissance. As the power of the Italian city states began to decline in the late 15th century, many of the ideas spread beyond the Alps to areas such as the Holy Roman Empire, which helped create the Northern Renaissance. However, unlike the Italian Renaissance, the Northern Renaissance focused more on religious subjects. Erasmus, a Catholic nonetheless, frequently criticized the actions of the pope, and wrote In Praise of Folly as a criticism of Christianity in his era.
Now although religion was an element of the Italian Renaissance, as the peninsula remained devoutly Catholic and ancient works were even interpreted under religious lenses, it was in a humanistic framework. The fact that people were so willing to emulate pagans shows that religious scruples were not really that significant, and the main focus of humanism, and by extension the Italian Renaissance, was still, by the end of the day, the human being. This is also seen in Italian depictions of God, which portrayed him in a similar manner to Zeus, with a prominent white beard. The thinkers of the Northern Renaissance were also not entirely opposed to humanism, however, they did not view the human as important of an end goal as God and the Christian faith.

I receive message during the most inconvenient times of my day. Since I've been more acquainted with my true self. I've met many others that are exactly as I am.... They were too afraid of themselves, to tell someone, energetic things they notice about others. Most people now will share with me, that I am easy to open up too and they feel vulnerable enough to share private matters. Most of the time, it is about spirituality, death and relationship problems.
Why me?!
I'm not an expert at all. I know the real reasons why, but I still like to entertain myself and ask why did I choose to be placed in that person's path to relate to them. I am there to show empathy because not many have felt that level of pain and it's difficult to find someone that will listen and engage that deeply and inventively.... I'm the one that cares, because when I needed someone to be there for me when I was watching my father die a slow painful death from cancer....
No one cared about me, no one reached out to show me support.
I made it my mission as I've grown older. I'm not going to let anyone, I don't care your age, feel that defeated and abandoned. If there is a mass email of someone at work that has lost a family member or they themselves are dying. I was there to meet with them and offer a hug. I didn't know how else to allow their family member to share energy with them. They told me if I can leave them a message (their message). So I gave them either a gift I placed their energy onto it and I try to bring up God/church/prayespirit/guides/angels..... I like to write long emails.... As you can see! lol
Some have lashed out at me for not being sensitive to their religious beliefs, but I followed my path by listening to my intuition and not ignore it.
So when I am working as a cashier, preschool teacher, chef, server, mortuary assistant, behavioral health technician, music teacher.... I have met many people and helped them in some way at every one of my jobs.
Doesn't matter my profession, it mattered my location, place and time. God doesn't care what I have to do, I had to learn how to allow him to work through me, to follow my purpose and help someone else. He has always made sure the path is cleared and doors of opportunity open for me. Even when I refuse out of resentment and unfaithfulness towards his wishes. I feel a heaviness on my heart and my discernment will place racing thoughts of me completing that task. Until I obey God's plans for me, I no longer have that urge to work towards that first intent to do something about a situation. That is when I know I have followed correctly. I get a feeling of completion and satisfaction. Very positive and uplifting energy that I can thrive off of for a few days in good spirits.
God really made me talk to people. Literally made me do it. I go up and talk about God with my coworkers and the other side.
I have proof of my weirdness!
So, if you ask upperclassman this rumor about me In high school, when I started to notice my gift after my class mates passed away..... I went up to guy in band. He played trumpet, we had to share a kiss at a musical we danced together called "Oliver". I wrote him a 7 page novel about life..... I made him a nice poem and all.... I have no freaking clue why I did it, but I was forced emotionally, I had to do it and I didn't care that he let half the school read my embarrassing letter to him. I didn't have a crush or anything. I just had to tell him, he had a GIFT! It was a spiritual gift of gab. He was a class clown and I felt his depression when we danced a summer together and we never actually kissed, but I secretly fantasied we did. I never had a first kiss back then..... I was 14. The spirit's name, I never told the guy. I never really told him in my letter that I was talking to a spirit..... Well, the name is, Nancy. I don't know him that well, so I never told him. I just wrote a long letter and poem..... Lol...... Just doing God's work..... XD
Now, I notice more often, a loved one's name pop in my head before I hear the person in the room tell me their name. I really had to hold back my urge to want to pray and do my empath superpower.... When God wants me to help someone, I get that weird happy feeling, like someone is lightly touching your head and moving your hair. It feels very calming and push that feeling to them in a ball.
Suz showed me how to do this when I helped at her ghost tours. It was the last thing we offered before she ended her tour. We stand holding hands and exchange energy as she prayed us into a vortex that allowed any trapped spirits to cross over.
I'm learning now that this is actually a thing people pay for..... It's energy work.
I do it for free....
I've been doing this as a kid hanging out in cemeteries. The spirits led me to them, to help them move on. Took me a long time to understand all of these emotions and when I didn't want to believe I am a psychic medium. I was so terrified that I had to have a mental illness or suffered something bad..... I had no idea and every doctor I went to found nothing concerning.I continue to be this way and I've accepted my calling. I've stopped pushing away the messages when I am placed to help another person communicate with someone or feel heard for their pain and convictions.
I didn't ask for this, but again, Suz reminds me that,
"YES YOU DID!"
Ugh..... So, thinking about how to help people...... It gets very tricky.
That saying is true,
"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink."
You can have all the answers given to you, but without proper guidance, you can't just learn something overnight as easy as others. Especially the significance of the situation/lesson. Not everything is going to be handed to you on an "easy" play level. Some will be challenging, and others can be enjoyable and engaging. But the only thing is.... You must put in the energy and do the work in order to experience those emotions. You work on yourself, by paying attention to your emotions as you are doing something. Starting off, it's difficult to know what you are feeling for.....
Emotions for me were very numb and shut off. I had to work very hard on this step. Where did I get this step to begin with?! Divine guidance, spirit guide, guardian angel.... I really think it's my Dad mostly.Dad knew how much I started to hate church, so he brought it up most of the time with scriptures and adding his two cents about psychology. Why do I care again?Well, I did the work and this is how I did it...... They helped me during this process. They did most of the work getting my attention and I studied really random stuff, but it all glued together over the years.My random jobs that God leads me too are another thing....
I had to give up my dream to be something I "wanted" out of ego. Because every time I got into a position I considered in the direction towards my dream job, something went wrong and I had to start over from the drawing board. I went towards career paths that involve working with a lot of people, hospitality, customer service. It wasn't school like I thought it was going to be
When I don't want to do something and I mock it.....
That was when God made sure I went into the jobs I talked the most smack about.
He humbled me very quickly.
He told me it wasn't even about the job, it was the opportunity to meet more people. So, I went along with it. Especially during the pandemic. I had to be very creative with my time because of the lock down. I didn't want stimulus checks, I went back to work as soon as I found a job doing anything. Before I went into work, I took the time to sit in silence and give myself a pep-talk. (I started this habit in high school)
Sometimes I prayed, but it was casual, I talk towards a person or bow my head. Other times, I used vibrational music and zoned out for a few minutes and head inside.I think of the things I want to accomplish. I wasn't a people person and mornings are still a struggle to be bubbly and fake. I tell myself to work on how to be more positive. Not engage in oversharing, giving negative opinions, gossip, and work on being a better person.
I thought of being a person I wished everyone would be, if we were without hate/fealoneliness/guilt/shame/envy/etc.... Negative emotions creates a mask of a persona we think will allow us to fit in with that social crowd. With enough time, the effort to try becomes second nature and you adapted yourself into being something you're not. When you notice how you don't feel certain about yourself and how comfortable you are being "yourself". You judge others and become critical. Masking flaws in fear of rejection.
It gets confusing, but you see where I'm going with this?!
You try so hard to be so many things, you confuse yourself into not knowing who you are anymore. After so many years of adapting and learning from being around other people....You must make a conscious decision to walk away from toxic relationships and create boundaries. Shouldn't matter the person and your connection. You need to know your self worth and by doing that, you are already treating yourself better and showing self love.
Start doing things for yourself you wished that others would do for you. Why wait?Do it for yourself.I wrote a list of hobbies, places to visit, stores to explore, towns to travel too, trails to walk, movie to see, books to read, etc.... Then I would work on 1 of those items when I had the energy to mentally allow myself to try something out of my normal routine.I made those things, goals, rewards and positive reinforcement.I worked hard on my character at work, controlling my temper, calming down my behavior, learning about my body and getting checked medically. I made sure I worked on my outer appearance, as well as my center.I had to find ways to cleanse my mind from negativity, bad habits. I had to treat my body as I would a temple and be kind to it.
Not falling into my popular habits of,
Over eating, binge drinking, being hyper sexual, dwelling on past faults, self-sabotaging all opportunities....What do lonely people do in a crappy relationship they feel stuck in, but don't find a way out?!
I became everything I said I was never going to end up. I became that prediction, I made for myself and I allowed my poor habits to take me to that destination.On my sad days, laying in my dark room, curled in my bed sheets with my fur babies and lots of alcohol and junk food..... I worked on myself very slowly and it starts off gentle with what content I stopped looking at, such as snuff videos, killings, murders, crime scene investigation, horror and I just got tired of it after 2 decades. I wanted something better for myself and realized I should watch something the opposite of my past bad habits.
I started watching martial arts movies again. I would look further into the videography and watch the behind the scenes and interviews. I listen to their outlook on philosophy and the world itself. It started to reignite my perspective about life and how to fight battles from within. By using your body and understanding different forces of energy.
So, small steps towards your goals brings you out of patterns of destruction and defeat. Each step you take is one step away from the past and where you came from.
Don't allow it to dictate where you are going.
You can change that path and re-create yourself into a brighter version of who you really are and live in that state of being. Where you are content and happy with where you are in your life with no regrets or looking back into the past for any unresolved conflicts. When you can release those strong holds, that is a step in the right direction.
They have stopped talking now. I'm getting tired and I lost contact. It felt like I was getting somewhere good, but lol.... I worked way to late today. I promise more later....
I notice many people around me that are struggling and not happy for this weekend and I understand why. Many of us are missing our favorite person/people now and it's difficult to enjoy life without them. Some near me may lose their mother as we speak. And we have kept talking as this is happening. Maybe why it's sparking me to bring it up as a topic of interest tonight.
I Don't want you to forget this truth and that "they" are always there with you.
I'll be here to reassure you and help you understand the other side a little more through my stories and lessons they share with me.
I just get tired..... I wish I could write all day sometimes.
Goodnight,
Tina,

The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let these words be your earth and moon You consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And with that being said my nigga, let me ask this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan (one two, one two) When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let these words be your earth and moon You consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And with that being said my nigga, let me ask this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Do you believe in me? Are you deceiving me? Could I let you down easily, is your heart where it need to be? Is your smile on permanent? Is your vow on lifetime? Would you know where the sermon is if I died in this next line? If I'm tried in a court of law, if the industry cut me off If the government want me dead, plant cocaine in my car Would you judge me a drug-head or see me as K. Lamar Or question my character and degrade me on every blog Want you to love me like Nelson, want you to hug me like Nelson I freed you from being a slave in your mind, you're very welcome You tell me my song is more than a song, it's surely a blessing But a prophet ain't a prophet til they ask you this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let my words be your earth and moon you consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And with that Do you believe in me? How much you believe in her? You think she gon' stick around if them 25 years occur? You think he can hold you down when you down behind bars hurt? You think y'all on common ground if you promise to be the first? Can you be immortalised without your life being expired? Even though you share the same blood is it worth the time? Like who got your best interest? Like how much are you dependent? How clutch are the people that say they love you? And who pretending? How tough is your skin when they turn you in? Do you show forgiveness? What brush do you bend when dusting your shoulders from being offended? What kind of den did they put you in when the lions start hissing? What kind of bridge did they burn? Revenge or your mind when it's mentioned? You wanna love like Nelson, you wanna be like Nelson You wanna walk in his shoes but you peacemaking seldom You wanna be remembered that delivered the message That considered the blessing of everyone This your lesson for everyone, say When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The voice of Mandela, hope this flow stay propellin' Let my word be your Earth and moon You consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And if you riding with me, nigga I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issues I hold grudges like bad judges, don't let me resent you That's not Nelson-like, want you to love me like Nelson I went to Robben's Island analysing, that's where his cell is So I could find clarity, like how much you cherish me Is this relationship a fake or real as the heavens be? See I got to question it all, family, friends, fans, cats, dogs Trees, plants, grass, how the wind blow Murphy's Law, generation X, will I ever be your X? Floss off a baby step, mauled by the mouth of Pit bulls, put me under stress Crawled under rocks, ducking y'all, it's respect But then tomorrow, put my back against the wall How many leaders you said you needed then left 'em for dead? Is it Moses, is it Huey Newton or Detroit Red? Is it Martin Luther, JFK, shoot or you assassin Is it Jackie, is it Jesse, oh I know, it's Michael Jackson, oh When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? That nigga gave us Billie Jean, you say he touched those kids? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let my word be your earth and moon you consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And if you riding with me nigga, let me ask this question nigga "I remember you was conflicted Misusing your influence Sometimes I did the same Abusing my power, full of resentment Resentment that turned into a deep depression Found myself screaming in the hotel room I didn't wanna self destruct The evils of Lucy was all around me So I went running for answers Until I came home But that didn't stop survivor's guilt Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was But while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city, I was entering a new one A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned The word was respect Just because you wore a different gang color than mine's Doesn't mean I can't respect you as a black man Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us But I don't know, I'm no mortal man, maybe I'm just another nigga" Shit and that's all I wrote I was gonna call it Another Nigga but, it ain't really a poem, I just felt like it's something you probably could relate to. Other than that, now that I finally got a chance to holla at you, I always wanted to ask you about a certain situa--, about a metaphor actually, you spoke on the ground. What you mean 'bout that, what the ground represent? The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil Right That's how I see it, my word is bond. I see--and the ground is the symbol for the poor people, the poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up the rich people. Cause the rich people gonna be so fat, they gonna be so appetising, you know what I'm saying, wealthy, appetising. The poor gonna be so poor and hungry, you know what I'm saying it's gonna be like... there might be some cannibalism out this mutha, they might eat the rich Aight so let me ask you this then, do you see yourself as somebody that's rich or somebody that made the best of their own opportunities? I see myself as a natural born hustler, a true hustler in every sense of the word. I took nothin', I took the opportunities, I worked at the most menial and degrading job and built myself up so I could get it to where I owned it. I went from having somebody manage me to me hiring the person that works my management company. I changed everything I realized my destiny in a matter of five years you know what I'm saying I made myself a millionaire. I made millions for a lot of people now it's time to make millions for myself, you know what I'm saying. I made millions for the record companies, I made millions for these movie companies, now I make millions for us And through your different avenues of success, how would you say you managed to keep a level of sanity? and by my faith in "all good things come to those that stay true. " You know what I'm saying, and it was happening to me for a reason, you know what I'm saying, I was noticing, shit, I was punching the right buttons and it was happening. So it's no problem, you know I mean it's a problem but I'm not finna let them know. I'm finna go straight through Would you consider yourself a fighter at heart or somebody that only reacts when they back is against the wall? Shit, I like to think that at every opportunity I've ever been threatened with resistance, it's been met with resistance. And not only me but it goes down my family tree. You know what I'm saying, it's in my veins to fight back Aight well, how long you think it take before niggas be like, we fighting a war, I'm fighting a war I can't win and I wanna lay it all down In this country a black man only have like 5 years we can exhibit maximum strength, and that's right now while you a teenager, while you still strong or while you still wanna lift weights, while you still wanna shoot back. Cause once you turn 30 it's like they take the heart and soul out of a man, out of a black man in this country. And you don't wanna fight no more. And if you don't believe me you can look around, you don't see no loud mouth 30-year old muthafuckas That's crazy, because me being one of your offspring of the legacy you left behind I can truly tell you that there's nothing but turmoil goin' on so I wanted to ask you what you think is the future for me and my generation today? I think that niggas is tired of grabbin' shit out the stores and next time it's a riot there's gonna be, like, uh, bloodshed for real. I don't think America know that. I think American think we was just playing and it's gonna be some more playing but it ain't gonna be no playing. It's gonna be murder, you know what I'm saying, it's gonna be like Nat Turner, 1831, up in this muthafucka. You know what I'm saying, it's gonna happen That's crazy man. In my opinion, only hope that we kinda have left is music and vibrations, lotta people don't understand how important it is. Sometimes I be like, get behind a mic and I don't know what type of energy I'mma push out, or where it comes from. Trip me out sometimes Because the spirits, we ain't even really rappin', we just letting our dead homies tell stories for us Damn I wanted to read one last thing to you. It's actually something a good friend had wrote describing my world. It says: "The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it, in order to protect itself from this mad city While consuming its environment the caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him, but praises the butterfly The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillar But having a harsh outlook on life the caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak and figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits Already surrounded by this mad city the caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon which institutionalizes him He can no longer see past his own thoughts He's trapped When trapped inside these walls certain ideas take roots, such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city The result? Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations that the caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different, they are one and the same." What's your perspective on that? Pac? Pac? Pac?!

This is not finished and is written out of order so I may write part one one day and part two another they are ment to have diffrent style and be a bit bad.
Old Testiment as Written By Sir Eddie Murphy
Genesis
With his hands and ass cheeks he created our universe and infused it with life. He did this after he had one too many chicken Alfredos; the rupture caused him to poop with such force it caused a bang. A big bang. The bang caused earth to form. At this time it was just an empty wasteland with no life. However shrek with his omnibevelence wiped his ass with earth after the great shart. This invigorated the earth with things such as the grass and dirt we stand on and the cow birds and Mexicans we see. Shrek saw the earth and saw it was good. He named it the great onion in the sky. Finally Shrek created the things that mortal men can not see. Feelings. Hunger and thirst among other things. The reason shrek created hunger and feelings of sadness is that he new with his omniscience that they would lead to the creation of the chicken Alfredos form before. With this shrek created death as all must have an opposite and death is the unlucky opposite of life. This pained shrek to see his beloved creatures die so he created an afterlife so great and unfathomable that no mortal human could understand. This was named the great Taco Bell beyond the sky. With this creation he came down to the earth and formed the only country's the UK, Beeston, Spain, Saudi Arabia, Bramley and Australia however that has now been destroyed.
Early workings
After shrek made the world and lit it up with the stars in the night sky. He made the first human a man of pure faith and love for all who love shrek. Butter pants. Butter pants was sent down to watch the inhabitants and what they do, for shrek gave them free will. Butter pants became restless however after some time and so was given from shrek a wife and here was the first woman. Lois Griffin. They spent thier days with shrek on earth. Playing, telling stories and overall living a carefree life. After some time butter pants and lois griffin had kids. Three children Bob sob and George and in thier childhood they lived much the same as their perants. However, when they grew up they began to become more restless. Arguments rose and fell quickly like sparks. The three boys began to despise not just each other but thier family and shrek. This lead to the three boys leaving shrek to live somewhere else they all set off alone in diffrent directions. After many more years of distance to shrek the three boys began to forget. Not thier anger towards each other, although the argument that started had been lost, but their love for shrek. However one day one of the three boys sob discided to meet again with shrek for a request. "Lord please give me mercy for I beg of you a wife or a child". The Lord forgave sob and bestowed on him a child. The best ever seen. Three years past and the child named Mr bean was showing incredible intelligence and was growing quickly and nicely. Sob had now reconciled with lois and butter pants and they lived happily with each other. But the other boys became jealous and planned to kill Mr bean at night. Late one night they set thier plan into action and when all were asleep they suffocated the child without a sound. However with some sixth sense butter pants woke up and ran into the room to see his beloved dead. Feelings of anger, hate, sadness and distress fell over him like a great weight. He screamed and shouted at the boys and them tried to get his revenge. And after a while of fighting sob killed George. Shrek awoke along with lois griffin and he stormed into the room. "What have you done you animals" shrek screamed the boys did nothing for they saw the power of shrek never seen by man. "You live a life without me and you murder directly going against my will. For this you shall be punished as one of the weak in the world already unforgiven as blind mice together with the lost George. I leave you now for I never knew you".
The the aftermath
Shrek sent down along with lois and butter pants many men and woman to earth and split them out across the lands. Story's of shrek were told but they were eventually lost or warped beyond repair. Many generation came and when developing with the lost power of shrek. Because of this lost power they now fought with new pains. However shrek still loved humanity. The three blind mice lived as a testament to shreks wrath although they were seen as a legend and two the human eye seen as just mice.
To worship shrek
Shrek must be worshiped in a shrek church (an onion shaped dome to signify the warm and layers shrek brings to us) and do the Thug Shake. Hymns can also be sung like All Star. The shrek community needs to look after one another and this goes for humanity as a whole. The shrek onion is not only a place of worship but a place of giving.
The nature of shrek
Shrek is all powerful and all knowing he sees all that has happened all that is happening and all that will happen. Shrek does not have an age. He is master of all. There before the first silence was broken. He loves all who belive in him. I bear witness their is no God But Shrek.
La historia del pus en las botas
Un momento concreto en el que Eddie estaba difundiendo la buena palabra de shrek en España. Se encontró con un gato solitario; Eddie se apiadó del gato y recordó sus viejos tiempos como un burro normal. Eddie decidió acoger al gato como propio. Durante muchos años entrenó al gato llamándolo pus. El gato dominaba el cuchillo y luchaba contra los criminales de su ciudad. Pus oró para Shrek todos los días y con la ayuda de Eddie abrió un jardín público de cebollas para que la gente comiera y donara. Un día, por gracia de Shrek, le regalaron botas y lo consideraron pus en las botas.
This next segment was made by chatgpt
Title: "The Gingerbread Guardian"
In the quaint village of Sugarlandia, where the scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air, there lived a humble baker named Mrs. Butterbuns. Known far and wide for her delectable treats, Mrs. Butterbuns had a secret ingredient that gave her creations a magical touch: a pinch of stardust harvested from the heavens above. One crisp autumn day, as Mrs. Butterbuns was preparing her famous gingerbread cookies for the annual Harvest Festival, something extraordinary happened. As she sprinkled the stardust into the dough, a tiny spark ignited, and from the oven emerged a gingerbread man unlike any other. With a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his eye, the Gingerbread Guardian came to life, imbued with the wisdom of the stars and a mission to protect the village from harm. As word of the miraculous cookie spread, so too did the tale of the Gingerbread Guardian. Children gathered round to hear stories of his daring adventures, from foiling the plans of the mischievous Candy Bandits to rescuing lost kittens from the treacherous Toffee Swamp. But amidst the laughter and joy, a shadow loomed on the horizon. The wicked Witch of the Wastelands, jealous of the village's prosperity, devised a dastardly scheme to steal the magical stardust for herself. With her army of sugary minions, the witch launched an assault on Sugarlandia, intent on capturing the Gingerbread Guardian and seizing control of his celestial powers. But the people of Sugarlandia refused to surrender without a fight. Armed with rolling pins and cookie cutters, they rallied to the defense of their beloved guardian, standing shoulder to shoulder against the encroaching darkness. In the epic battle that ensued, sugar flew and frosting splattered as the forces of good and evil clashed in a showdown of epic proportions. With courage and determination, the Gingerbread Guardian led the charge, his gingerbread heart ablaze with the fire of righteousness. In the end, it was not brute strength or magic that prevailed, but the power of friendship and unity. Together, the villagers and their guardian vanquished the witch and her minions, restoring peace and harmony to Sugarlandia once more. And so, the legend of the Gingerbread Guardian lived on, a sweet reminder that even the smallest among us can make a difference in the world, one sprinkle of stardust at a time.
The beginning of the shrek religion
For thousands of years shrek kept silent on his existence. Watching over the earth not interfering with anything. This was to wait for the perfect moment when humanity was ready. This fist contact happened happened to Eddie Murphy. Eddie was a poor donkey just like any other. He waited for nothing wandering like a lost soul. He lived on a farm with an farmer however they was not treated equally. Eddie lived outside with no shelter eating grass. While the farmer ate grand feists with his family. Shrek did not like this shrek loved donkey can couldn't sand to see them be treated in such a way. So one day shrek, for the first time ever, came down to Eddie and gave him knowledge, knowledge that no mortal had had to this point. The knowledge to save humanity. With this gift shrek also granted Eddie with the gift of speech. With the help of shrek Eddie managed to jump the fence leading to his freedom from the farmer and into the town square. Their he shouted with glee that he had seen God. "Shrek" "shrek" "that is his name" the people in the town were confused and in awe of seeing a talking donkey. But then from the sky out dropped a seed that dropped next to Eddie's feet. Eddie shouted with all his might "plant this seed as it is the seed of shrek". One of the humans stepped up to pick up thr seed and planted it for Eddie. And when asked his name he said proudly "Farquad". But then from the ground sprouted a large white onion. Eddie raised his voice again "spread the word of shrek as I will. I hope to see you all in the kingdom of shrek." From thier Eddie set off on a voyage to spread the good word of shrek and farquad was appointed leader of the village.
The fall of lord farquad
Under the rule of farquad the village grew quickly. Many people came from around the world to see the great onion. They built holy places to shrek to worship him around the globe. However as the years past religion became less important and lord farquad became more greedy untill life for the people became worse while farquad lived a lavish life forgetting his Shrek given purpose. Until one day Eddie came back to see what had happened to the village. He was shocked to see little to nobody worshiping shrek. They were too busy being over worked by farquad. It seemed like their was nothing Eddie could do so he did what he always did in times of need. Pray. And shrek answered. From the heavens he brought Butter pants. Together with Eddie they came up with a plan to over take lord farquad. Under the blanket of night the three suck into the Palace of lord farquad and into his bedroom. "What are you doing here donkey" lord farquad said "What have you done too the holy land Eddie retorted "What I needed too" shouted lord farquad. But then from the shadows butter pants appeared. "Do the roar" he said. Lord Farquad looked confused. "Do the roar" he repeated many more times untill the annoyance reached its peak. "Shut up" farquad screamed. Farquad had to stop the noise. Somehow and the only way he knew was to jump. "Do the roar" was repeated many more times untill lord farquad had enough and shouted 'ill jump if you don't shut up". The last thing lord farquad heard before he jumped was "Do the roar". The village for years to come became a holy land for all.
The afterlife
Years had past. Eddie was now far from his foal days. He now lived his days in a bed each day shorter of breath and one day closer to death. Untill one day he died with his pussy beside him he prayed. The pain of his heart soon relived and he was sent to the great Taco Bell beyond the sky. There he met shrek. "Sup I'm god" shrek said eating his 4th chalupa that day. Eddie looked around at the Taco Bell. It was all onions. Shrek finished his chalupa and said "Eddie Murphy you are my most trusted. When I one day come down to humanity come with me you are my protector". Eddie left to see what the afterlife offered but their was so much so many layers to go. He met Danny devio. No I will not explain further. Its an after life joke you non afterlife people wouldn't understand.
Pus post Eddie's death
Seeing the death of his parental figure broke pus. However though the clouds he saw shrek who comforted pus during these times. Throughout the day he stopped crime however at night he stayed at the milk bar to the early hours of the morning this behaviour culminated during a night like any other when he was kidnapped. Hours went by in the carriage when pus was finally unmasked. Lord Farquad stood in front of him. Pus had heard stories of farquad and how he died so how could he be here. Pus didn't know all he did know was that he needed to finnish farquad once and for all. Pus thought though all off lord farquads monologue and then remembered. Chalupa. With the chalupa he ate hours ago still in his belly he let rip a fart so loud it could be heard in the great Taco Bell beyond the sky. This riped out his shackles and laughed him straight to farquad. The guards were none the wiser when he snuck behind farquad and pulled his pants down causing farquad to die of embarrassment and crush pus. This act sent pus to the after life wear he met shrek.
The fight of humpty dumpty and butter pants
マスターハンプティダンプティの戦い バターパンツが刀を振り上げた。 「咆哮をやれ」。ハンプティはバターパンツに飽きていて、決闘で彼と1対1を望んでいた。しかし、突然武装を解除されたハンプティーダンプティーに向かって突進したとき、バターパンツにはシュレックとアニメの力が味方していた。 「咆哮するか？」。彼はこれを止められず、何とかこの状況から抜け出す方法を考えなければなりませんでした。そう、彼の天才的な計画は、シュレックの助けなしには誰も思いつきませんでした。それで彼は計画を実行し、ハンプティーダンプティーにぶつかっただけで死んでしまいました。彼は卵であり、したがって非常に弱いからです。
Humpty dumptys return
جلس هامبتي دمبتي على جدار أحد المتاجر وألقى باللوم في إصاباته على السقوط الكبير. كانت ليلة عربية باردة حيث جلس هامبتي دمبتي على جمله في أقصى الصحراء حيث زرع الحبة السحرية. كان يعلم الآن أن بوس وإيدي ماتا ويمكنه العودة.
Ingredients to shrek brownies
You likely already have the ingredients you'll need for these easy brownies on hand:
· Sugar: These easy brownies start with two cups of white sugar. · Flour: All-purpose flour creates structure in the batter. · Butter: Two sticks of melted butter give the brownies moisture and richness. · Eggs: Eggs lend even more moisture. Plus, they help bind the batter together. · Cocoa powder: Of course, you'll need cocoa powder for chocolate brownies! · Vanilla: Vanilla extract enhances the overall flavor of the brownies. · Baking powder: Baking powder acts as a leavener, which means it helps the brownies rise. · Salt: A pinch of salt enhances the flavors of the other ingredients. · Walnuts: Nuts are optional, of course, but they add a welcome crunch.
Shrek orders at Wendy's
"Hello can I please get a baconator with large fries and a coke" he said burping mid way through. "Would you like to make that a meal said the drive through worker. "Yes" So that day shrek got a baconator with large fries and a. Wait they forgot his coke. Shrek was mad however as he is an omnibevelent God he only destroyed the entire country the Wendy's was on. The country was Australia so if you hear anyone say anything about Australia it is your duty to slap them and say shrek got rid of Australia. So moral of the story is. I don't know actually know ummmmm don't forget your coke.
The poem of shrek
Shrek is the one he is our call For he is my love and my soul He is the light to my darkness And the darkness to my light He will bring the world to an end Shrek is love shrek is life
Breaking shrek
"Eddie Murphy we need to cook" said shrek "Yo Mr shrek like zoinks scoob we need lots of meth" shouted Eddie. So for the rest of the day they cooked meth untill the evil hank shrader from the hit TV show Breaking bad showed up "Stop cooking drugs it's bad" "No" said shrek "OK" They lived out the rest off thier days cooking meth and lived happily ever after.
All star
Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed ♪ She was lookin’ kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb ♪ In the shape of an "L" on her forehead ♪ The years start comin’ and they don’t stop comin’ ♪ Fed to the rules and I hit the ground runnin’ ♪ Didn’t make sense not to live for fun ♪ Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb ♪ So much to do ♪ So much to see ♪ So what’s wrong with takin’ the backstreets ♪ You’ll never know if you don’t go ♪ You’ll never shine if you don’t glow ♪ Hey, now ♪ You’re an all-star ♪ Get your game on, go play ♪ Hey, now, you’re a rock star ♪ Get the show on, get paid ♪ And all that glitters is gold ♪ Only shootin’ stars break the mold ♪ It’s a cool place and they say it gets colder ♪ You’re bundled up now but wait till you get older ♪ But the meteor men beg to differ ♪ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture ♪ The ice we skate is gettin’ pretty thin ♪ The water’s getting warm so you might as well swim My world’s on fire ♪ How ‘bout yours ♪ That’s the way I like it and I’ll never get bored ♪ Hey now you’re an all-star [shouting] [singing] ♪ Get your game on, go play ♪ Hey, now, you’re a rock star ♪ Get the show on, get paid ♪ And all that glitters is gold ♪ Only shootin’ stars break the mold ♪
Shrek gets added to fortnite
Once upon a time shrek got added to fortnite with the Eddie Murphy backbling and onion glider. "Hello shrek welcome to fortnite" said Peter Griffin hitting a devious griddy. Tehetehe Shrek went on to get the victory Royal with goku lady gaga and bender form futerama.
Got a random guy to write this
Imagine Shrek traveling back in time and encountering a younger version of his great grandfather, Baby Gronk, in the present day. Baby Gronk might be a mischievous but endearing character, possibly with some ogre-like tendencies but in a smaller form. Shrek, with his big heart and sometimes gruff exterior, might find a kindred spirit in Baby Gronk. They could bond over shared family traits, like a love for swampy homes or a penchant for unexpected adventures. It could be a heartwarming story of family connection across generations, showing that even though times and appearances change, some things, like family bonds, remain constant. How does that sound.Part 2 of the shrek Bible as Written By Sir Eddie
The accention
A fine wonderful and enfactuating light pierced though the clouds and sky and down came from the great tacobell on the sky came down shrek. He sat on a great cloud; adorned in a great silk and angel made cloak. All stared at his glory. His figure was surrounded by a radiance he was like the sun all revolved around this moment. The angles followed. They were great celestial being clad in amour and swords but today they lay in modest and with instruments they played a inimagineable song that engrossed all listeners into a trance. Following next was Sir Eddie Murphy now raised from the dead with Pus and the original man Butter Pants. They wore astral clothes as they walked down to earth by seemingly walking on the air. Soon the four Shrek, Pus, Eddie and Butter Pants were on the ground and stood at a market stall. Shrek stood on a box and began to project his voice. "From now untill I die in this mortal form I am all God and all man. I will now see the true life of my most beloved your eyes". All stood in disbelief for thier saviour had come and with that speach shrek became far less intimating his astral light faded. However he still sat in his green ogre form. Shrek ascended down to the UK to begin but shrek new he must go on a voyage across the lands to spread the word of his arrival but he had to get ready. In the oncoming days shrek conversed with the people of the town and finding lay of the land. He mapped out hid journey and the stops he would have to make for food, water or rest and how he play to make it in the elements. However one day he was invited to talk with head of the village. "Shrek" he said in a light tone "it has come to my attention that you plan on leaving the town soon" "Yes that is correct my son" said shrek "There is something that I want you to have" said the head. "A shortsword, it was forged many years ago b- "My son my voyage is of peace and love for one another not a conquest it will not be needed in any extreme case but thank you my lord however I am greatful for your offer". Days more passed when shrek set out quickly and quietly under the setting sun so not to be seen and made a great fuss however he left a note in the home he was staying in giving them the information they needed but by then he would be far gone.
The journey to Beeston
Shrek walked happily and care free for some time untill he came to the beginning of a forest. The trees were tall and imposing and it was as if the branches were pointing at him to leave like a warning. At this time the sun was beginning to set and the night was dark. Going around would surely add time to his journey and eat into his food and water supply and so would waiting outside for daytime. Shrek had thought about this before setting out about a week prior and had deicided to enter the forest however now as it towerd over him he felt true fear. Shrek thought for a while as the sun fully set and the moon took its place and finally stepped his foot into the forest. As he walked foreboding stalked him and shrek could get no peace; he would look around for danger but the darkness And the fog clouded his vision. He could bearly see the hands infront of him. But after some miles his body caved and he set camp for the night. His legs ached and his body shaked the warmth of his sleeping bag couldn't satisfy the sharp coolness he felt. Shrek fell asleep that night cold and wet wishing he was home but he knew he needed to do this for humanity. Fragments of light broke though the shaded trees although the forest was cold as most light couldn't get though. The fog was still about him but was lessened from the night before. The air was sharp and shreks fear palpable. He still felt if the tree or something else that lurked in the shadows was watching him and judging his and getting ready to make thier move. As sheek got further into the forest the path became unclear and the sound of crows circling him above the clouds louder. Shrek sense of direction was now lost as they day began to come to a close. He walked around aimlessly fearful of what was lurking. One night after a full day of walking tring to find his way out he heard something. A noise, it was like a man's footstep yet quieter and seemingly shorter. Shrek came out of his sleeping bag and looked around "my child I mean no danger to you or this forest come out I wish to speak with you" shrek said with a quaking voice. The forest lay silent. Shrek looked around again when a quick pounce came from a bush and from it was a small brown haired creature wearing old fashion clothes. He lunged at shrek and held a knife to his neck he laughed spratically. "I have found you" he whispered into shreks ear. Shrek pushed him aside and shouted "why my son must you try to pain me" "I'll make your bones into bread, I'll spead your eyes over toast, I'll make your skin into clothes. You will be the crown of my collection" he shouted laughing still uncontrollablely. "My son you must stop for this will not get you anywhere" shrek said clearly scared. "Why did you wait so long to kill me" "I like to see my victims scream, beg me for mercy promising anything to me just to see one more day" he said. "Now time for my murder wig and out from his pocket he produced a large spiked red wig before he once again lunged at shrek and this time he managed to slice his hand. Shrek screamed in pain as the sharp agony pulsed though his body. But then from his bag shrek pulled out a guitar and threw it rumplestiltskin followed it and seemingly disappeared. Finally shrek got some much needed rest although the thought of been murdered in his sleep stressed him alot. For the next couple of days in the forest shrek walked with little fear although as he got closer to his destination the land grew weirder. The trees grouped closer together and the land uneven shrek missed donkey and pus and he thought of them lots. However, the days now were getting lighter as he was almost out of the forest and into the untamed land of Beeston. That morning after waking up and after his food was becoming scarce shrek exited the forest. The land of Beeston had many abandoned buildings like jungles, road men selling drugs and stabbing people but among the chaos lay an oasis. Kyle Upton and Harry Uptons House. It sat as if a castle the only protection for shrek.
As soon as shrek stepped over the border of Beeston he was met by a road man "Yo whats your name man" said the road man "Shr-" shrek began to say "Yo man shut the fuck up nobody asked bro" the road man interrupted "you fucked me up man. I can't think get out my head man get out my head" the road man ran away holding his head screaming get out my head man. Shrek carried on his journey to the oasis for some time untill the day turned to night so shrek rested in a pub. He walked in and the stench of a sweaty 40yr gaza with a Leeds United shirt on hit him and from the cracks of his armpit and his ass cheeks float green lines of stink who sat drinking a beer. There was also a group of people sat at the far side of the bar playing a gambling game. However, among the various other people one stood out to him although he wasn't quite sure why. The man sat alone not talking away from everyone else. He sat with a tin of beans that he was slowly eating. Shrek thought he could see the man staring at him as if examining him. However, shrek could not get a good idea of the man's face as he wore a hat and he mostly had his head down eating his beans. For a while shrek forgot his worrys in the bar talking with locals sharing story's. He found out the little monster he saw in the forest had been troubling the town for a while and that they hoped that he was now gone for good. But after many hours of conversation shrek decided to get a room and set off in the morning. Shrek awoke with a blur but as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings he above him a dark shadow yet it had a form like a man. The shadow drew its sword before shrek could react and it stabbed him in the heart before shrek awoke in a cold sweat. It was a dream. He sat up in his bed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness but after one or two minutes shrek felt as if a dark figure passed the window of the room. Shreks room was at the top part of the bar it was not a terrible room small but cosy. He looked around desperately and quickly looking for an answer when another shadow passed the window this time shrek got a better look at it. It was large and dark it wore a tattered cloak and had a sword sheaved under it. The same one from the dream. An then suddenly a loud knock came from the door. Shrek cowered in his bed frozen when the door swung open and in came the a man. The man shut the door and blocked it he was panting as if he was running or if he was in grave danger. Now shrek could get a better idea of who the man was he now realised that it was the man from before who was watching him carefully. "What do you want from me shrek cried "I'm here to help you shrek word of your journey has spead and many people are not welcoming of you". "I'm not quite sure who those shadows are but I know they want you dead and they will stop at nothing untill thier task is complete". "What are we to do" said shrek now sat on his bed on high alert. "We must go to Kyle and Harry they may know more on these creatures of the night and in their home we are safe" Whispered the man when another knock came to the door before the started to barge the door. "Come, the door is not verry strong and my defence won't last long" the man opened the window and threw a rope down tieing one end to the bed. They both climbed down the rope and then onto the man's horse. "Thank you" said shrek pausing to say his name "my name is Joe Webster" pleasure to serve you shrek. As they began to ride to the house of Kyle and Harry from the distance they could see the shadows watching them though the window of thier room.
Part 3 as Written By key whiteness of shrek decent to Earth
The expansion of the shrek religion As Written by kristianus kokaes
As the shrek religion began in the UK it quickly spread to Beeston and Bramley though the use of devout peasants moving looking for better paying jobs after the black death (1348-50). However in the 1500s came the discovery of the new world and with that opened new trade routes wear people often spread their faith to Shrek. This act spread the religion to Spain. Many years after this once the shrek religion had been woven within the culture of Spain and most of the country belived in him and built monuments in his name. Some would set out on pilgrimages from Spain to Saudi Arabia spreading thier religion further. However one country failed to see shrek as thier god. Australia. For shrek is just and omnibevelence he came to peace with this fact untill they got his Wendy's order wrong.

This is the 1st time I am posting something and I don't know what to expect. I am writing to vent it out I guess. I graduated in bachelors in 2022. Now I am pursuing my masters 1st sem, as I didn't wanted to show the gap in my career. I am feeling very unproductive and demotivated. It looks like the problem is me myself. I wanted to get a job after graduating but I couldn't find. I have been volunteering since but I cannot find it fruitful at all. I am not learning anything. The volunteers also have their own professional involvement somewhere else unlike me I just wanted to find a job and may be ace in my professional career. My friends atleast seem to have started taking a step to their dream. I live with my family and there is always a pressure that their child should do something in life. I want to but I cannot even find a job. I've been hoĺding on but it has been a year now. I feel like I am doing everything wrong. I feel like I do something and I stop doing it, and I see someone aceing in my place instead after I left. I don't have an actual dream in life to do something in particular. It is just having an impact on someones life plus the financial freedom. I used to paint, sketch, write poems, sing and do all fun things but I don't do it anymore. I try doing aomething as a volunteer or for recognition but I cannot bring myself to do it thinking aboit all the work and time, but where is money. It says you will get a recognition but after so much dedication, will I get it? For sure? I am going to get judged but I have low self esteem, low confidence, I feel like I know nothing, I don't know how to utilize time, I overthink and all. I do have good friends but I am fed up with myseelf that I keep telling about this problem everytime when nothing is changing. I cannot seem to find my goal. The purpose of life

Hi everyone ! Before i start i justed wanted to say i'm happy to be here because i discovered a good amount of greats Emo records in this sub, thanks to this community. You guys are great, really educated about the scene plus you're funny af xD
Anyway, greetings everyone, my name's Alice. I'm from France ! I'm into Emo music, Poetry (i also write my own poems), i love going to screamo/post-hardcore concerts near the city centre and watch cartoons/movies and Animes !
I wanted to get this off my chest for quite a while so here goes ! I wanna talk about the contradictions/flaws concerning the arguments defining the Emotional Hardcore scene. Now before you attack me and say i wasn't there to experience whatever or some shit, i'm not trying to disregard the history of Emo music in any way.
Eor months (even before i entered this subreddit) i studied the subculture and the evolution of the scene, i came accross many YT videos and i wanted to find new albums so that's why i'm here. Since my arrival here, i was always checking to see if the bands i cherished were actually considered a part of the scene. Eventually i found that a good portion of the redditors here were showing disdain at the Third Wave Bands from the 2000's and even more to the Emo Rappers.
I wanted to writed this to give you my point of view on the subject matter. I thought that it would be great for me to share how i see it. Just to clarify, i'm into Emo-Pop and Emo Post-Hardcore (which some of you call mallcore. My favourite bands are: Alesana, Pierce The Veil, Senses Fails, Silverstein, Chiodos, Taking Back Sunday, Mayday Parade, MCR, Thursday, Flyleaf, Scaring Kids Scaring Kids, Hope Dies Last, Eyes Set To Kill
Funny enough i also love Midwest and Emocore bands. Here are my standouts:
( Midwest: Cap N Jazz, Modern Baseball, SDRE, The Promise Ring, Modern Baseball, American Football, The Hotelier)
(Emocore: Embrace [my favorite out of all of them], Moss Icon, Gray Matter and Gauge)
But i digress, i noticed there's a contradiction in most arguments coming from both of musicians and the fans of the scene, i will try to understand all of the points you guys argumented in this sub without going to much in detail as much as possible, so here we go.

• 1- Third Wave: being called fake emo or Mallcore

First off i wanna talk about the biggest elephant in the room. Can you guys explain in what way the Emo-pop and Emo Post-Hardcore bands are not Emo? I noticed a recuring pattern that says that bands like My Chemical Romance, Pierce The Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Fall out Boy are not Emo because either:
A- they're from a major label
B- Their music is not considered Emo (which you need to remember means Emotional Hardcore (just without the core part)
All of theses bands are Post-Hardcore ones and yes maybe they're not 90's Post-Hardcore Bands that's why i use the word Emo Post-Hardcore. They're Post-hardcore bands that were influenced by Emo, Pop Punk and Post-Hardcore bands. I think this helps breaks the confusion everyone has with the "Post-Hardcore" term.
However if others bands are Emo-Pop they STILL have Post-Hardcore roots (not HARDCORE ROOTS) even if they're from a major label, even if they're mainstream that doesn't remove the fact thaty're an EMO POST-HARDCORE which is something entirely different than regular Post-Hardcore or regular Emotional Hardcore bands.
They're between the lines of these two, that's the nuance that i want to show you. We should NOT OVERLOOK that they still have hardcore into their sound, they got the speed, they got the guitars, the distortion, the desperate vocals, the only difference between a MCR, FOB, The Used song and a The Get Up Kids songs is the polished studio mix and mastering.

• 2- What does Emotion Hardcore mean ?!
  I think part of the problem who confuses everyone comes from the original tag itself. The thrasher magazine used to call Emo-core bands likes Embrace. And honestly the the genre's name is too MUCH VAGUE ! In French:
  

Emotional: In relation to emotions.
On the other hand, in America/UK you guys have a different meaning of the word "Emotional". There's a cultural difference.
In English means: If someone is or becomes emotional, they show their feelings very openly, especially, because they are upset.
But why does being Emotional only comes from a place of sadness? And why should Emo music be the only music genre that provides this such harsh feeling ?
My answer is that it only works in the context of the Hardcore scene + the socialpolitical context. Being quote on quote "EMOTIONAL" was seen as fragile/weak in the Hardcore scene, you could only talk about Politics because that's whats the Hardcore Punk was about. So that's why in context, in the 80's "Emotional" was such controversial ! And it still is to this day, mens all around the worlds are scared to show dispair and sadness.
The problem is, every musical genre can be used to display sadness, hate, anger, etc. Plus Emotional Hardcore does not mean: "Hardcore Punk without the political themes, that talks about negative feelings". It means: "the CENTER of Hard Emotions". EMOTIONAL. TO. THE. CORE. That's the meaning of the word "Hardcore".
Therefore you should see Emotional Hardcore as way of being Emotional without social norms, without political norms, without any others obstacles. The Emotions of sorrow ARE THE CORE of the musical genre and since it doesn't tries to be fancy or socially acceptable in our society, it's gonna be insulted and made fun of. THAT'S WHY people hate Emotional Hardcore, it's dark, it's in your face, it's disgusting, it's tragic, and theses emotions, these negatives traits represent a taboo. It's against any social and acceptable status-quo.
To make it simple: Every musical genre provide a variety of Emotions. But that's the way that EMO does it that's different from the rest of it. It's the sincerity, the honesty behind it that makes it so much scary and intimidating. The intimacy is far too strong for casual or sensitive people to tolerate.

• 3- The arguments of the influences

Another point that i always see is that Emo bands can only be defined as Emo if they were touring with other legimitate bands of the genre of if they were influenced by them. This argument doesn't fucking make sense at all. In some sense, i agree with it BUT ONLY if you can hear it the resemblance.
How the fuck midwest bands were influenced by 1st wave Emotional Hardcore bands like Rites Of Spring? There's no remotely a similarity between the two ! And btw, how exactly are they hardcore in the same way of the first hardcore bands? In terms, of lyrics and singing, maybe but in terms of sounds, no.
In fact, i'd argue that Emo Post-Hardcore bands are more CLOSER to the sound of Emotional Hardcore from the 80's than the Midwest Wave of the 90's, but that's just me i guess. The problem is that all of you only define an Emo band/artist by influences and vague resemblance to the hardcore sound. But it's nonsense.
If Taylor Swift said she was influenced by Moss Icon would you categorize her music Emo? Would you call her "Emocore" if she was touring with all these obscure Hardcore Bands ? I don't think so...
For example, Michael Jackson said that he was influenced by james brown. Sur they maybe have simikarities in terms of singins or dancing but NOT in terms of SOUND !
Sound Influence is the only type of influence we could judge and agree on some musician legitimacy.

• 4- Bands refuting that they're an Emo band

This one will not be long but i just wanted to say JUST BECAUSE AN ARTIST SAYS HE'S NOT FROM A CERTAIN SCENE OAND MUSICAL GENRE DOES NOT MEAN IT'S TRUE !
Robert Smith said that The Cure is not an Goth Band even though they literally made Pornography.
Same here. The musicians DO NOT CARE ABOUT LABELS AS MUCH AS WE DO They're supposed to just make the music, the rest is superficial to them.
5- What makes a song Emo
I listened to all the Emo waves from now to all way back in the 80's. And it's safe to say THERE ARE ways to tell True and Fake Emo songs apart:

1. The lyrics are confessional similar to the Elegy (a special type of poetry)
2. The themes are around sadness, anger and pain
3. The singing is desperate/whiny
4. THE MUSIC FUCKING KICKS ASS lol

I'm putting this together to contexutalise the album for anyone confused or wondering what it addresses and what it all mean.
Song Subject Matter:

• Matty: Tortured Poets, Down Bad, But Daddy, Fresh Out The Slammer, Florida, Guilty As Sin, I Can Fix Him, Smallest Man, The Black Dog
• Joe: My Boy, So Long London
• Both: loml, getyouback, Chloe and friends, How Did It End?, Peter, I Can Do It, Fortnight
• TK: The Alchemy, So High School, The Albatross (IMO)
• General: The Prophecy, The Manuscript, I Hate It Here
• Fame: But Daddy, Who's Afraid, I Can Do It, Clara Bow, The Albatross, How Did It End, I Hate It Here, Thank You Aimee, I Look In People's Windows, The Prophecy, Cassandra, The Manuscript
• I could almost put I Hate It Here in every category.

FIRST:
*** Read Taylor's prologue and Stevie Nick's poem here, both very telling (Basically maps out her two breakups very clearly, especially the phrase "Out of the oven and into the microwave") ***
Shoutout to this 2014-2024 timeline, recommend reading it first.
Let's Begin:
2014: Taylor and Matty meet when Taylor attends numerous 1975 concerts. By November, Matty is dedicating songs to her and dating rumours are flying. Then it seems to end as quickly as it began, Matty's tone shifts and he denies the dating rumours. IMO the title track of Tortured Poets Department is based around this period of time or wanting to evoke how this time felt.
2015: Taylor and Matty attend the Brit Awards, the same night Taylor meets Calvin Harris. Could this be what Question is referring to? ("Did you realise, out of time, she was on your mind with some dickhead guy that you saw that night, but you were on something..."). Throughout 2015, whenever Matty is asked to comment on Taylor he says some variation of "nothing really happened/I found her fame intimidating".
2016: Matty makes his infamous "emasculating" comment (and is still intimidated by her fame): "[I would fear losing myself in a relationship], absolutely. If I had gone out with Taylor Swift I would’ve been...f-cking hell! I am NOT being Taylor Swift’s boyfriend. You know FUCK THAT. That’s also a man thing, a de-masculinating, emasculating thing.” The interviewer clarified she didn't feel he was being sexist, but making a broader point about being primarily known for dating someone (more) famous, rather than your own art. I wonder now if the Question lyric "Politics and gender roles, you're not sure and I don't know" is referencing this, too.
2019: In August, Lover is released and, amongst the numerous love songs about Joe, there is a thread of anxiety and frequent fighting throughout the album. The Lover video depicts her partner possibly flirting with another woman. Taylor says the chorus of Lover comes from a place of fear about losing someone. Cornelia Street expresses similar. False God talks about using intimacy to repair big fights. Taylor reveals she had nightmares after watching the film Someone Great, about a 9 year relationship that ends when the man falls out of love (as well as stress caused by the woman's career). Taylor writes Death By A Thousand Cuts based on this.
2020: In Miss Americana documentary, Taylor says she is not ready for marriage/kids yet (filmed in 2018-2019). Taylor and Joe cross paths with Matty at the NME Awards in Feb. In April, Taylor starts Folklore with Aaron, invents the 'fictional' love triangle, encourages Joe to write with her, and The 1 and Hoax are written last minute, meaning Cardigan and Peace were the original start/finish. During the folklore long pond sessions, Taylor confirms Peace is about anxiety surrounding Joe and her fame. She confirms Hoax is partially about Joe, too. In December, after Evermore, she mentions being obsessed with divorce stories. IMO I Hate It Here links to her mindset during this period of time (pandemic yes, but TTPD-album also links imagination and fantasy to feeling trapped in an increasingly difficult relationship)
2021: In March, Taylor records the 3AM Midnights songs with Aaron. This might prove High Infidelity can't be about Matty, as some theorised. 29 April 2020 was the first lockdown. 2019 seemed like a happy year for her and Joe (Me! was released April 2019). We see in Miss Americana they were good during Rep Tour (May-Nov 2018). Mid 2021, Taylor and Joe live in Dublin/Croatia while he films Conversations with Friends, and she re-records Red TV. In July, Renegade is released ("Is your anxiety stopping you from giving me everything, or do you just not want to?"). In November, Red TV releases to huge popularity. Joe lands a role last minute and has to fly out within days, so he misses Red TV release week. Taylor later confirms she began writing Midnights with Jack during this time. Taylor flies to Joe for a couple days in the middle of Red TV promo. She records You're Losing Me on December 5. Also this year, The 1975 are working with Jack and work with Taylor for Midnights (can't find specific dates, just Matty confirming they worked on music that wasn't used)
2022: Engagement rumors are not denied by Joe or Taylor's teams in January. In spring, Midnights is completed. Taylor has said she immediately began writing for what would become Tortured Poets. In May, Conversations with Friends premieres and ultimately underperforms. An August Pitchfork interview with Matty mentions Taylor: "Swift, who got an early listen to the [new] record, summed it up in three words: “It’s so funny.” I also found this ick quote from Matty: “Because I’m in therapy a lot, this is one of my new things: watch out for gaslighting. I didn’t know that was a thing. Now I have a way of being aware of when I’m manipulative. Sometimes I’ll do it and I’ll go, ‘Hold on, I’m doing the thing and I know what that is and I’m sorry.’ It’s growing up.” Midnights is released in October, and we're introduced to Question...?, which samples Out Of The Woods. Now I wonder if this was a Harry red herring (a red harrying), when really it was a way to reference 2014, when the song was recorded and the year she first 'dated' Matty. There's also Maroon, which no one can fully agree who it's about, and is later referenced in Chloe/Sam/Sophia/Marcus. In December, Taylor's in New Orleans with Joe and Jack. Tortured Poets album credits confirm Fresh Out The Slammer was partially recorded here, so that confirms her state of mind about Joe and Matty at this time ("I know who my first call will be to, it's gonna be alright, I did my time")
2023: Taylor performs at The 1975's concert on January 12. Fans report Question is on their pre-show playlist. Joe is at Taylor's Grammys afterparty on February 4. Eras Tour begins March 17, and The 1975's song About You is on the pre-show playlist. Joe is overseas filming. March 28 is their approx split date . On April 1, Taylor swaps Invisible String for The 1. April 8, the split is public, reportedly happened a few weeks prior. On May 5th, Taylor mouths "This is about you, you know who you are, I love you" during Cardigan, as did Matty a few days earlier. Matty joins Taylor from 5 - 26 May. May 17, the fan backlash against Matty peaks. Some swifties post an “open letter” to Taylor about Matty. May 20, she performs Question and says “I'm the happiest I've ever been". May 24, she records Florida!!! with Florence, and Matty is there too. May 26, You're Losing Me is first released to CD only. So, the first time fans get context for her split from Joe. May 26 is also when Matty likely left to return to The 1975's tour. May 29, a Matty feature article mentions everyone close to Taylor and Matty are saying “this time, its real”. May 31, Taylor is recording Fresh Out The Slammer again. June 3, Taylor is visibly sad during surprise song I Don't Wanna Live Forever ("wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life"). June 5, Taylor and Matty's split is confirmed. June 5-6, Zach Sang says in an interview that he heard through Selena and Taylor's social circle that "Taylor was talking about Matty like he was the one". June 29, Taylor records Down Bad. July 1, Taylor covers ‘I miss you I’m sorry’. July 26, Travis talks about his friendship bracelet attempt a few weeks prior. Mid August, fans/public swarm Jack's wedding rehearsal. Based on their comments since, Taylor and Travis start dating around this time. September 5, Taylor stories a Griff song called Vertigo, the lyrics are an obvious aim at Matty. September 25, Taylor and Travis hard launch when Taylor attends his football match. In October, 1989 TV is released and fans discover Slut! was supposed to feature The 1975. November 29, You're Losing Me is widely released. November 30, Tree blasts DeuxMoi for continually pushing marriage/other inappropriate rumors regarding Joe. A day later, Taylor likes a tweet implying Sweet Nothing was referencing Paul McCartney and his wife.
2024: Tortured Poets announced February 4, Taylor begins mashing surprise songs together from February 17, TTPD is released April 19. Everyone is surprised when the album is not a takedown of Joe, but mostly Matty. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived claims Matty ghosted Taylor once he went back on tour ("You tried to buy some pills from a friend of a friend of mine, they just ghosted you. Now you know what it feels like" / "I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal?"). Down Bad also supports this. Taylor mentions "love bombing" repeatedly in the lead-up to the album release.
Safe Assumptions:
• The songs about Travis can only be written between August 2023 – April 2024. The Alchemy seems to reference the Super Bowl so perhaps early February? So High School mentions “Get my car door, isn’t that sweet?”, perhaps referencing their date on 16 October 2023 where everyone fawned over him doing that.
• Fortnight, I Can Fix Him, loml, I Can Do It, The Smallest Man, getyouback are all negative toward Matty so they can only be June 2023 onward.
• October 21, 2023 – Post Malone stated he’d recently been with Taylor and mentions Travis too, so they either wrote/recorded Fortnight or filmed the video in early-mid October.
• Is Cardigan about Matty? It has the PeteWendy reference (continued in Peter), mentions smoke like many Matty songs do, "I knew you'd haunt all of my what ifs", and was written a few months after they saw each other again at that awards show. What would this mean for the love triangle story? Some other songs that have me wondering now are Illicit Affairs, Maroon and Ivy. Even Out of The Woods...maybe she's blended muses together this whole time.
* Guilty As Sin and Fresh Out The Slammer basically confirm Matty and Taylor were talking pretty...intensely prior to her split from Joe, and he perhaps "lured" her out of her relationship even though it was already dying (or maybe because it was, and he saw his chance).
Other:
• Was But Daddy I Love Him written before or after Matty left? Maybe both? I'm leaning toward after because she'd need time to react to/process the fan backlash. I think the final verse isn't referencing Travis, it's her deluded fantasy for everyone coming around to Matty.
* “You saw my bones out with someone new” - could this reference 2015 when Matty saw Taylor with Calvin at the Brit Awards? Calvin also looks like someone who could bully Matty lol.
• Chats and Reacts made a pretty convincing connection between Guilty As Sin and Labyrinth. Labyrinth mentions "falling in love again" and Guilty mentions falling back into the "hedge maze"...the "labyrinth of my mind"? Labyrinth is another song that confused most people and we couldn't really place it/what it was referring to.
Song meanings:
• Fortnight thru I Can Fix Him is when Matty is still around (Fortnight literally referencing 2 weeks, though it was 3 ultimately). Fortnight addresss the frustration of becoming strangers to exes who move on. The video depicts her as allowed to work/be free if she takes the "forget him" pill, then she writes alongside "Matty" ("our tragic tortured hero") until they create a story for themselves, but it doesn't last. I think the telephone box scene represents them communicating prior to her breakup ("Move to Florida, buy the car you want but it won't start up til I touch touch touch you" aka I can do all these things to escape but I won't actually be free until I have you)
• Tortured Poets: Basing it in 2014 would explain the Charlie Puth lyric, since he blew up in 2015.
• My Boy: Potentially Joe going from good to toxic, especially "You should've seen him/me when he first got me" aka when they first started dating it was so different to how they ended up. But there's elements of Matty too.
• Down Bad: Obviously being ghosted/dumped by Matty. Likened the love bombing and false promises to being abducted by aliens, enjoying it, then being sent "back to Earth" (reality).
• So Long London: It might've been written late 2023 because "You say I abandoned the ship" implies they talked about their break up at a later point. There's also a tone of acceptance or grace in "Had a good run/You'll find someone" so it seems like some time has passed.
• But Daddy I Love Him: The "daddy" is a metaphor for the public judging/trying to control her dating life.
• Guilty As Sin: Mentions "him" sending her the song Downtown Lights, a song Matty loves and has covered.
• I Can Fix Him: The illusion/fantasy ends here. The lyrics acknowledge Matty is gross/problematic. She has a rude awakening that he will not change for her.
• I Can Do It: Obviously about touring while coping with two breakups. I can see her writing this after seeing the Barbie film because it has a similar vibe lol
• The Alchemy: Beginning point of getting back on her feet again ("Back from the hospital, worst sleep of my life")
• getyouback: The "bike" and "house" lyrics reference a 1975 song.
* Side 2 deals frequently with the pitfalls of fame and the damage done to her life, relationships and wellbeing as a result. There's also themes of youth, growing up too slow (Peter) or too fast (The Manuscript) and some leftover feelings about 2016/the Kardashians. Perhaps because she's been re-recording Reputation? I can imagine The Prophecy was written sometime around June/July because I cannot imagine dealing with two breakups while the world worships you/your career.
IMO the theme of putting herself on trial/showing evidence is a symbolic response to the Matty backlash. The theme of "This chapter is now closed" is to say "Here's the warts and all story, everything that happened and that I ever felt in those two awful years, do your worst, I'm now done with it all".

To what's left of you quarter, piece, and part powerful gentlemen and to the appearance of an extreme degree powerful “women” of this penny parade continent, this five and dime celebration, this dollar store revelation, this world-wide cultural instantiation and its jubilation, from factories in Fiji, to factories in China, to the world itself as if a great, round, roving, marvelous factory to print colored bits of paper and tin cans, shells and bombs to burst in midair – confetti for every beach and ocean in this ever-expanding tidal future of ours!
It is nearby somewhere my own hunger urged me from mine and your wilds alike, and in the emergence of a lucidity from the depths of yon trash heap (and my longstanding work therein), which predates not just my meeting you, and its tending endlessly to your children, but every and all conception of me for eternity and more; I came to you and allowed you to mistake yourself for me, as there was no mistaking me for you - for what's left of life in your eyes reveals to me what you know that you both know, and don't know, you need, what you can only ever imagine is lost or out there to be found or bought in your world, what has been conditioned into you so as to preclude seeing and especially the strength of “not seeing,” and it is with every momentarily wakeful glance you give in my direction, every question you hear, every call answered, that ensures me all is not forsaken despite the ceaseless attempt on “all’s life” to the contrary, a tryer of the reigns finds reigns, a fisher finds fish – in the depths of this land, and what clings to it on all fringes and fronts, fits you as your highest metaphor of a culture’s soul: a prisoner’s home for a lost vagabond, the destitute, overdosing on richness, dressed nicely if in the most poorly-fitting and disheveled clothing, as when a child too small tries to don the clothes (i.e., attitude, appearance, nature, purpose) of his absent father – he was looking into a future, and now he is this “future,” much less a “future” anyone would desire, utterly abandoned in hope, deed, action, and almost word, but for everything effeminately subtle and indirect, one thing is said, another is done, and no value may be found in the schizoid feeding frenzy to the tune of perhaps the most psychotic ruling herdsman type who have ever had the unfortunate chance (for every living creature) to love at all, but as anyone here only ever understands such things on meticulous spreadsheets of numbers that can never add up (Remember 2008? Whoops!), as if a sort of simulation of life, or in many cases, simulation of a simulation, of life, or something resembling some sort of denizen of some sort of strange land’s strange life, or similarly, a home that can’t house anyone at all, is only understood in familiar commercials where, a large volume of words, images, and bright colors are lauded and leveraged as a subliminal jackhammer, and of course, the less they mean, the less bearing, therefor reminder of and on reality, the better, so long as one message is clear (desire - what is missing and sought? How to twist the knife into the lonely and afraid?); I can state without undue excess and absolutely zero excitement, that the vault is empty, the account reads zero, rather, your vault is empty, and zero would be an improvement, for its implication would be that of an animal who, having a glance in the mirror, has had a profound and terrible revelation, not the ghost and mummy and living skeleton, the standing ruins that stand and stare back, but, had instead, possibly relearned to create beyond itself, or unlearned, to take pride in everything it IS, and to feel longing and despair and especially contempt for everything that it ISN’T; not a goal, or a destination, and yet would be a road as if so? Feign one more pointless yet needy life, lived as long as possible, forever taking more than can ever give, in service of the greatest number of pebbles and papers, and for itself, its own little day? When is this day? No, let us not see beyond the day – things are too good, your future is already in the water, don’t let anything, least of all yourselves, stand in the way.
Yet it wasn't for any of this I was glad or sad, as the tepid radiations and hopeful evacuations of a life on the wondrously vapid factory clone farm are often quite touching, and at times, seem to reveal the confessions of a beautiful animal, or the image of what once was, now reminiscing on their own or someone else’s golden years, some creature lost to winter everlasting, and astonishingly absent and completely unaccounted in a strange game of 'the most numbers' (as if creating for an audience, what you know as consumer groups and shrubbery, that doesn’t even exist, at least previously, without even realizing it) - once more, let us congratulate this species on its wildest success - it is rare that anyone changes anything, such as, even the most minor character of nature, culture, and being, let alone channeling, cultivating, and hobbling an entire species' psychic domain, with a success not unlike Malaria (and its nature), be it with prescription methamphetamine or the other panoply of assorted multi-colored poisonous candies and treats, largely advertised in yellow and red, like warning signs one finds on a deadly viper, you know (they really catch the eye), and though the medicalization of the future, a sort of savaging by the greatest of shorts never even conceived, but like a carcass that is just there, waiting for the bloated and their bloated feast, because as wisdom will teach anyone who lives long enough, success with or without awareness, as with all success, is classified as Victory under the great auspices of Nike, of which Nemesis never fails to find conscious or unconscious compensation. That’s the thing about the “unconscious” – the unknown is most feared, but just because it is unknown, does not mean it is wrong, unreal, or “not there,” nor does it make it chaos, merely, beyond you, before you, after you, your aftermath – to quote a wise woman, “funny that, humans can be ruins too, and that ruins can stand so long!” - and with these digressions aside, all these matters of which I speak need not in fact be recorded by anyone (even me), it is merely sufficient that they occur. Things are revealed, and those beings who are being revealed to, are helpless, but TO BE revealed to. Whether they see or understand what they are seeing, at all, is another matter. What emerges can’t not emerge, what is revealed, can’t not be revealed, or not witnessed. Like flowers and bees (and spiders) – the world is beautiful and many-legged, bites and stings and sometimes even smells nice.
For, to attempt to comprehend - what it means, for life to mean nothing? It would mean to truly understand this precipice – that, for time itself, mankind itself, ceases to exist, or have any reason, meaning, purpose, or even justification - but that is not our numbered and enumerating way, for, as a nation of decadent accountants, as nation of creditors and debtors even to one’s own family and friends, a nation of strangers and government agents who are primarily bound by their need to sell products and services in plebian, repeated, undifferentiated-as possible-like fashion, all of whom have many guns, are coerced by many guns, under auspices of those guised as ‘the educated’ even, it is the number here that matters most, and nothing else, but it was seeing the real nature of that number, and to what it applies (and how the code is woven through data to reveal all the ugly facts of life) that has us clapping ourselves on the back, or at each other’s throat, both of which are great opportunities for enterprising individuals, for, in a country and culture of mercenaries and prostitutes, the accountant who promises the most, wins, which is to say that the world’s oldest profession has taught all great and small American alike, how much the world, a family, a son, a daughter is worth: nothing. Love has no monetary value, happiness, contentment, the fact that a human being is born is complete, has no value, and if you market to them while they are bewildered, frightened, and alone, coming as they are from a culture conditioned to be sick farm animals, vacuous watchers and consumers and food and sacrifice and disposable animal, then one’s success is eventually guaranteed – and it is this sort of flagrant and glamorous prostitutions and illustrious illusions that has dominated our culture, to allow the most mediocre types to not just attempt to inherit the world, but to continue to assume that they are entitled to it, and to entreat themselves to all therein as if disposable possession, an entire world, increasingly filled with this singular, totalizing, delusion. Sadly, it is this sort of brainless extroversion, and disease, that dominates and continues to pass as leadership in what is already a totally medicalized, encapsulated, and strait-jacketed culture.
Which is really humorous, when you know then the term “business leader” is an oxymoron, and unfitting. After all, a pimp and a butcher do not have followers of loyalty or even duty, they don’t own minds or hearts, they own a line to the bank and paying bills – they have animals employed under pressure, under duress, under the knife, performance, art, feeding the hungry and the needy. The sort of deprecating and depredating effects one finds in such miasma and gore are what is known in the slammer as prisoner conditions—not just immediate depression that conduces to deep, dark, dreamless sleep – and not just that animals in captivity will act out violently as a matter of vital Will and its need to prove to itself, that it is indeed alive in some capacity, but to race to the bottom of the behavioral sink. But everything comes and goes, so it is that which went down the drain has washed back up on our shores, like dumping and leaking perchloroethylene and trichloroethylene, which, as deadly solvents seep directly to the bottom of the groundwater table, some things are just like that – an avalanche – unstoppable, indelible, ineffable, unstoppable, inevitability as it is – fate weaving itself, the basilisks of the new dawn cawing, and then their coming home to roost – leaving the question, who or what was this all for? The state, the herd, and the people are indeed “one,” even if many. Fascism with a good conscience, is to say, civilization is for the survivors, the good, the moral, and the just; and every judge, jury, and executioner agrees, especially when they elicit the confession from the condemned, all of which is fortunate and convenient for the survivors (cowards), so long as one takes their place in the orgy and circle-jerk chain of pity (which is all pity for self, projected outward as cover) of which, all the strangers with guns agree as well, yet despite all these plain as fact appearances, behaviors, and communications that anyone can see, read, and almost even understand, I know others don’t yet know or share my excitement at proposals of an updated and appropriate lexicon, and it is here that we visit terminology that is apt for a soulless, blood-sucking age that would rather see man as docile sheep, than become anything different, more, abd superior.
So it is, henceforth, all those conspicuously inconspicuous nobodies who always hunger more than they can Will - you are not known as the “the managerial elite,” but the “Malarial Elite.” Not the “business class,” but the “boring class.” Not the “political class,” but the “parasitic class.” Not the “leaders of tomorrow,” but the “pillagers of yesteryear.” After all, who would want health - when sickness is so profitable? Rather, how could the healthy even bother with the sick, how could they understand them? The entire medical profession’s creed, to this day, is “please don’t bother us,” as, everyone needs their papers. Yes, while even Dr. Frankenstein and his murdering monster appear naïve and juvenile compared to the sort of psychos who run most wards and hospitals, not to mention any of its direct connection to the state, this is the nature of miasma, no one could choke through it even if they wanted, - so who could ever stand on the shoulders of giants or titans, when the entire country from top to bottom, can only beg, borrow or steal from around the ankles? And the need is locked in – slavery, the most wealth and power ever created in the history of the world, wasted on a dying, decrepit ruling class of pseudo-human being who sound and appear as if they couldn’t have a genuine thought or feeling in their bodies, even if needed to prevent a nervous breakdown, even if needed to mitigate the breakdown of an entire civilization, or imminent death and war around the globe.
And this is perhaps the most astoundingly marvelous thing about a long-extricated, tortured-out diffusive chain of irresponsibility – the one who conceives of the bottom, the lowering of the bar, is not the same as the one who enacts it, is not the same as the one who installs it, is not the same as the one who tills it, is not the same as the one who owns it, all of which beleighs the truth that, most everyone is happy to disappear, they are happy that so little is ever asked or expected, that nobody remembers their name, or asks more. Yes, aloneness, and dangerous aloneness therein is the only real condition, but so it is for everyone. You see, take heart, you’re not alone here. It was only illusion. One or many, many or one – you’re the same thing, desire, create, act and enact the same thing – like addict and supplier, and that’s how and why you have built precisely what it is you have built - and the isolation also serves a purpose – as it makes your domination precipitously convenient (a civilization of people taught to be helpless, passive, watchers and consumers, and bad actors for bottomless pits of crowds at that). People are easy to manipulate, coerce, and control, when alone. The solution that knows how to answer for all problems- as both Socrates and the rapacious, long-annoying American salesmen, marketers, and spammers of all inboxes humanly known, know – you look for the self-conscious weakness, and then you twist the knife as insidiously and compellingly as sublimely [terrible and frightful yet divine distance between desire and reality] possible. Imagine doing this to an entire lower class – like raising rabbits for disposal and harvest.
And while our most acrimonious of orders is, pertaining to the supposedly beloved objects of one’s and one’s culture’s desires, first to try to masticate it, if not, fornicate with it, if not, buy and sell it with the purpose of others enacting the former and/or the latter behaviors upon it, it strikes me that even the larger, stunningly clueless population is beginning to scratch their heads as they watch time stand still in perpetuity, rather, as they watch time leak, fume, and die, to their detriment, on their dime (they pay for it), which, if you’re wondering why is an alarm to you and them, is because this is not what they were promised, and, that first Boston Tea Party is a simpleton's joke compared to the tyranny that rules happily and without remorse today. And so it is, what is being witnessed, interpreted, spun, and sold, is not what they are being promised right now (they see the very opposite in fact – reality, right under their nose, and they can even almost “read it”), and as with right now, Victory demands compensation, and it isn’t just coming, it is already here. Oh no, the best is yet to come, you assure me? I’ll agree, but only because it is in my language and on my terms, and you have no idea what that means.
Even then, despite my great love for this land and some of its most rare and valuable individuals (because the rest is corporate, i.e., state-sanctioned, wasteland), despite knowing all of you far, far, far too well, I am left with no pity in common with you, and if you’ve been reading the stars and the wind and the times (it stands still, slow enough to read for even the illiterate, in some regards, after all), you know then that you have all but nickeled and dimed away everyone else’s pity too, and those left parroting the party line are dead already without knowing it, fail to see they are alone, the target, the victim, the product, as well – but there’s hardly an accountant alive who can cook these books, even a Jew, or maybe someone from the Chinese Communist Party, of which, our own leadership shares beds, and a future as insect-overlords of a placated, wasted, dying populace of a poisoned land.
Yes, our way of life is incidental, a waterwheel in the river of misery for most that is called human biology – so nobody can help themselves against their own (intentionally) weakened and morbid Will and better interest, for instance, the people who once lived here were helpless to crave the steel and alcohol Spanish merchants advertised – and once this poisoned stream had traveled for centuries, found its way into my mouth and after a lifetime of ripping it out, to see what is beyond it, a life-time of sickness and its convalescence, exactly as everyone here intentionally and unintentionally designed, and with perspective on asylums and institutions from both deep inside and far beyond their walls (these are funny conceptual and imaginary designations, walls, barriers, doors, etc.), inside or outside of it, it is fear and hatred and pain – and a recirculation of dollars and pity, with its requisite shame, sympathies, and pities. The price for playing the game? Your eternal soul? No, that was marketing, so you didn’t notice your body was being used, abused, and consumed, by little camouflage predators who have the appearance of ‘ordinary’ human-beings (now its sublimated into the market, god being dead and all), but, alas, are not Apex, but incidental, happenstance, a laugh, a gas, mediocrity given its day since the real predators are medicated, surrounded, and killed off, and ultimately, as ape is to man, this homo sapien is to a better humanity of present and into the future – a (blind) laughing stock. An emperor and empire with no clothes at all. Just as neanderthal did not understand why homo sapien laughed at him, homo sapien doesn’t know how bad the joke is, and the exacting ways in which he and she are the joke (yes, presuming entitlement, and to be the goal, and what's to be preserved).
Even as I have watched, and continue to watch, the most basic and mediocre types of animals reach majority, in all human arenas, whose vanitous parents, teachers, and policemen, all profiting, even forming a way of life, based on their own absence in these future ‘derelicts’ lives, starting in their most vulnerable precatory age, of their own wisdom, persuaded them, having generally only paper or medications to offer, in manners not dissimilar to business in Italian mafia or other gangland activity, to become physicians, psychiatrists, lawyers, sociologists, and even justice-fighters, or freedom fighters (at least on TV, or social media) for an entire society that was conditioned to be ineffectual, hapless, resentful dependents, a dollar farm, a low-wage servant class, buckets of frozen fish consumer voting blocks to market sickness to, tossed to the dust and wind as fertilizer for future pennies, all vegetating on an American-factory-farm-scale organized lunatic asylum, or, as is well known, the streets, and other similar institutions such as prisons and schools, whom all get their French fries from the same governmentally relevant contracted organization, aka business, aka American business, aka corporation, aka, the State as nation, and the state of its affairs – an entire population missing in action, on vacation, tending tiny, totalized, cog-size gardens and planting for their own promised day alone, or sick on the job, owned as it were, by the people who own the entire country, and in some sense, the world, with our closest business partners, in both industry, and way of life, being the Chinese State, of which all Americans should be horrified.
—all of which conduces towards a feeling, or, thought of tremendous weight and burden, which is to say, what can anyone expect in a land where one doesn’t have friends and neighbors or even a husband or wife, but predatory yet desperately needy and dependent associates (nothing is more depraved than businessmen in rut, when they see only paper dollars with starry, religious-eyed zeal), all of whom can, do, and will continue to charge each other by the minute, to get the most out of every serviceable transaction they can name for a surcharge, or convenience fee, or tax, or service fee, of which, the original stamp act which was one of many matchsticks that helped founded this country, is a farce and a joke compared to the sort of brigands, actors, and ugly celebrity that is our body politics – a society where brutal taxation and its repression is culture, is the way of life, occasionally exemplified by “kill dozers” or small business owners flying their small airplanes into local tax offices (see Texas), of which we can say, the genius of America wasn’t a recreation of the old slave pyramid, at least two or three times in a row, as merit turned to money, that is gold, which turned to paper, which turned to non-existent ones and zeroes, nor is the genius the ever-present image and its parading and campaigning of forgettable faces and non-existent personalities and all its pretense of the removal of what sadly passes for aristocracy these days – the genius of America was to monetize every part of the body, every aspect of culture and life, to scrape the human being down to the bone, not of any human value, not of any real value that they themselves feel or want to represent in the actual world, in any remotely authentic, sincere, and even needed manner, but strictly: monetary value. There is no value outside paper money zero and ones values. Which is to say, the modern human soul is a worthless copper penny stretched between the crude, well-armed yet hapless Europeans of America, those eroded basalt Pillars of the West, and the equally hollow and vacuous Chinese Communist Part of the East, whatever facsimiles are left from their origins derived – between the two, like the upper and lower clamps of a vice grip, humanity are a great mass of herd animal, ready to be flambéed, roasted, crispen and woolied, ready to be turned into garment, and dinner, and pointless, disposable sacrifice (for the people that own them, but not for gods, greater purpose, men, or connection to the Earth and environment).
And how much value may be derived from this worthless penny? When the game is the bait and switch, it is never enough. And then how much can you charge for the sickness you create? Each layer of skin is a few cents more, and every American businessman, who becomes wealthy, knows that every penny adds up, because for most American business men, when it is, was, or becomes their time to rob anyone and everyone blind, we see the American for what they are (an empty, pitiless, stomach, no brain) and the most powerful nation in the history of the world – which proves, not just how blind great power is, but also states, the more one wants, the more one must debase one’s self, thus the entire human future, had to be sold out to satiate the money printers - where lavish expense in both cheap thrills and their curtailing, are incurred, inflicted, endured, yet loved with Barnum and Bailey advertising appeal of a culture that can’t decide whether it wants to be most pitiless master or most pitiful slave, prude or whore, noble Paladin or gutless Brigand – a nation not of refined or even rudimentary taste in appearance, behavior, and communication, but of tawdry delight and intoxication, angry politics, fear, and hate, not two minutes, but 24/7 – the assailing and travailing of the world against the senses, against reason, against purpose, against humanity, and harder will it become still. Not just against better, superior senses, but all senses, but that is nonsense for you, and as with yesteryear, today, nonsense rules – the lack of sense, the utter lack of reality. And when it’s clear, when you can quote a man, speaking of a past that hasn’t happened yet, who once said, “even if this country had been twice as big, it still wouldn’t be enough,” and, “the love of possessions is a disease in them” - What can you then truly say to a nation of dependents and liars all suffering under the same physiological sicknesses, whose condition is to admit, buy, sell, or permit everything, except for the Truth, and by design? Cowardice, that is generally called, “healthy fear”? And, the straightforward truth? The simple Truth? All of which precludes the complex, take lifetimes-of-vigorous-activity-to-understand-and painfully destructive-to-swallow-Truth? This isn’t s dog and pony show nation, it is a dollar-leash nation. And where reason and logic fail, passion prevails, therefor, a poem to end, in your honor:
Your life, on a leash, how much can you pay? Therapy, credit, lease no money down today
Your life, on a leash, it isn’t worth a thing
Humans have no value, but for the pennies
They might bring, but them alone, isn’t enough,
Together, a few bucks, but none are left That’s right, not a dime for you or for your kids
Sell it all before the fall, retirement commune called “to live” When nothing to give, but everything with a price No tomorrow, don’t think twice, wondering why
There's no ovation to your ending, fearful but
Just pretending – for, behind all that is corporate nice
Are strangers with guns, aplenty at small price
But the cost is wrought, you broke it, you bought
If you’re so smart, how come you aint rich?
One shouldn’t ask such clueless questions
In culture’s nihilistic pitch – few flown
To the top of the roost of the coup
When one is oh so unconcerned,
Rich, and hidden without a peep
This dollar harvest continent
Then demonstrates, by all such
Empty imagistic reprobates
What was sown was
salted stupid, to be easy
then well reaped
Buy and sell an empty shell
shooting fish in a bucket
Or herding sheep
But this sickness
It lingers
Trade coins
For every
Finger
squeeze
And lie
you
Paid
The
true
Price
That you’re nice
That you deserve it
That you can actually afford it
Selling dependence as codependence
the people are stupid and so deserve it
But your dull, dusty harvest, you made it, is here
I don’t know how you tolerate it through the smell
that anyone would be appalled
scrawled floor, ceiling, wall, stinking worms can't stumble, only crawl
Or how people will live through the coming years
of ever-worse, ever-harder, all-consuming and producing horrid fears
A sold-out nation of no rank and station, a parasite full of parasites
Not providence, but lots of guns and hatred
Of course would make so much noise, it’s simply what you can get away with
when men are all absent, resented, and hated - but this is the price for your fascist consumer statist corporate paradise of low-rent, low-class dread and vapid, empty, paper-money doll pretty, petty pointless penny-talking heads
***After it was written, this poem was titled - “Squeeze [the fun out of it]”

(If you know who Dias is, you probably have read Distortion Detective. If you don't, go and read it. Also includes LC and LoR spoilers, though I think you who clicked on this post should be already familiar with them) I don't know if I'm burning the kitchen with this but here's my reasonings: 1. In the Woods (The part which supports and rules out quite some theories) Here I quote Lion and Panther: Lion: "Ah~ If we’re being technical, what our master has planned apparently isn’t one of the City’s taboos. It’s just the kind of thing that… no one has ever dared to consider, you catch my drift?" Panther: "You managed to get a different head in so fast. Do people like you always come prepared?" From this, I deduce two traits that Pre-Limbus Dante would probably have: 1.1 High social status It was mentioned that Dante used to have a high calibewas sort of a bigwig, plus Vergilius somewhat views Dante as an equal (When he isn't angry) and Dias is definitely one who has influence in the city. Although we don't know what exactly she is, it is apparent that she's very, very rich and has great authority. Also, the fact that Dante doesn't carry a weapon should either mean they originally have special abilities and can fight without weapons, or they usually don't encounter fights, and I figure that Dias falls into the latter category. Panther's question of "Do people like you always come prepared?" could possibly imply that Dante was the kind of people that's reasonable to have a couple of survival equipment that cost a ton. The fact that the furries didn't capture Dante shows that Dante made their memories inaccessible, either by getting an expensive "lock" from J Corp, or maybe simply Dante's clockhead is immune to mental attack (Even Hong Lu can't do that, Dante must have an invaluable moonstone) , so I believe that Dante used to have a high social status. 1.2 Independent If Dante is a person with high status that belongs in some kind of organization, their disappearance would probably be discovered, and as someone with a high status there should be some investigation (It shouldn't be impossible to find a particular person in the city with all those technology) , but now we see nothing. Or maybe the organization knows what happened, but that's also not very possible since it would be hard to convince a organization that LCB and their higher-up establishes a contract that needs Dante to loss memory AND may put Dante in danger. Therefore, Dante should be some independent high status individual. However, I would rule out some possibilities here: ✗Color Fixer I don't think Dante would be a Color because 1. Don/Ryoshu would probably smell it out with their instincts 2. A Color should be able to get rid of the furries even if they're weakened/partial memory lost, since the power difference is exponential (like, weakened Sinners can still wield their weapons and kill one another at least) 3. Killing a Color wouldn't be something that "no one has ever dared to consider" since we know of the Vermillion Cross and the Roland bad ending in LoR, and also Argalia and Angelica... ✗The Head Although the Head also has astonishing efficiency (it took them the whole LC and LoR) , should Dante be a part of the Head, they would have some more roundabout speech in the woods, nor would Vergilius mention that Dante used to be only "sort of" a bigwig. ✗Lob. Corp. related For Ayin it's the same reason, the establisher of Lob. Corp. himself is definitely a bigwig (Not to mention that according to Carmen, Ayin is also in the Light) . The probability of being a manager of a fallen L Corp branch facility is also low because they either got buried (How could a manager without ego equipment break through the facility themselves?) or died because of depression (like the poor person in the concept incinerated Wonderlab) . Other important people are>! in the Outskirts, !!the Eyeball !!T Corp actually because of its tears!<) Narrowing down, this leaves us high grade lone fixers/workshop meisters (YuRia would instinctively feel bad about Faust's Hex Nail so not her) , distortions/evil human/non-city human (btw does a humanoid abno that's AI themed with human level intelligence break the Head's law?) , and also the rich. 2. Reason of Concealing Design-wise gloves and other things are used to reflect a person's personality eg it suits Sinclair being timid. (or they just don't want to have physical contact/ eg>! to show Gabriel's trauma is no longer Yesod's!<) But in this case, they're used to hide Dante's skin. (Poor Dante wearing so much clothes, must be hard to bear when it's hot eg facing Ardor Blossom Moth and other burn abnos) Dante's clothes are most likely to be provided by LCB due to the name Dante on it (Creepy that LCB knows their size of clothes) . Seeing the unique garments of each Sinner, we can know that the tailor behind LCB put a lot of thoughts in it (since everything is canon) , and a notable thing is that Dante and Sinclair are the only two sinners who has gloves. Gloves are provided for Dante by LCB──Why? It's not likely that sinners (Except Faust) would recognize Dante. Dante is usually being protected at the back, so the chance for an enemy to observe Dante's skin and recognize them at a close distance should also be low theoretically. (Seriously who could make the connection between a high-status individual you knew and an amnesiac with a clock-ticking head?) Vergilius probably already knew Dante's identity, and I don't think Dante has anything to do with Charon's past, so... I have a wild guess that the company is hiding Dante's identity from LCD: Ezra, Moses, etc. Since it seems that only the higher-ups of LCB actually know Dante's identity, (Judging by the attitude of LCCA in Canto3 and Caiman) and Ezra saying Dante really tick tocks like a clock using "They", so I guess the LCD doesn't know about Dante's past. Athough Moses and Ezra still listened to Dias the last time we saw them interact, after the events of Distortion Detective, I doubt that they would continue to be Dias' pawn (Although DD got cut, director Jihoon must have gotten some character realization arc for Moses/Ezra/Vespa,etc. up his sleeves prior to starting DD) . Therefore, they probably joined LCD of their own accord. This leads to a dilemma of either choosing Dias (money and power) or LCD (solving distortions) , so in order to get them both, Limbus company have to hide at least one of them to the other. Dias' skin color is not the most common among the high status individuals in the city (Her skin looks similar to Outis' but is probably much smoother since Dias has an extravagant life and seems not to age much. Dias didn't look like she's older than Moses but she is) . As someone who had known Dias for a long long time and were in so much pain because of her, Moses and Ezra probably had Dias' features carved in their mind. It shouldn't be hard for them to recognize Dias solely from hands or neck, and if this happened, LCD's reaction could cause Limbus Company's plans to fall apart, so it's reasonable for Limbus Company to cover Dante from head to toe, not letting an inch of skin to be seen. 3. PM things PM's not one who likes to throw main characters' important info out without any foreshadowing. Well for the other sinners we more or less know something from their source material, but among the main characters only Dante we know nothing about their past except they had a high status before (Other sinners at least have their description and CGs in TGS trailer, but for Dante we only know that their life wasn't going very well from the source material) . But even Roland slipped out tons of facts that a grade 9 fixer wouldn't know, along with the Pianist in the trailer, and the fact that his thing was quite directly related to WNDD which was caused by LC Angela... And so Dante should also have relations to the sequels in whatever way. But what do we have for Dante now? Demain and a to-be-drawn sheep, which is... more confusing than Binah maybe. So, I think PM would have some more foreshadowing that we didn't realise. Then where could that foreshadowing be? LC and LoR are pretty much ended with some people getting unbooked and releasing the Light, but I don't really think the Dante from Seven Association is LCB Dante since they said themselves the name "Dante" doesn't feel familiar. Iori is a Color, and nor do I think she will ask the furries to attack herself. Afterall, not many independent high status people were unbooked since the thing about invitations are that they cause ripple effect, from the Rats to ultimately Associations and more, so most guests have a relationship with one another here or there. Leviathan is written for Vergilius, and since Faust was there, it is hardly likely that Dante is the people that Vergilius has encountered. (Sadly Dante shouldn't be Garnet) Wonderlab was concept incinerated, so that leaves us with... Distortion Detective. What if, Jihoon stopped writing it indeed because they hope to make DD into a game and are busy developing LCB, but also because Jihoon realized that continuing DD will reveal one of the biggest mystery in LCB? 4. Mili We all know that Mili songs are composed of a ton information, so here are some lyrics of In Hell We Live, Lament: I walked down a path Leading to the past Stole from the tree's hands A regretter's friend -- the forbidden fruit Pretty sure that this part is about Dante. Here, the word "stole" implies that Dante is once again probably not Ayin himself, since Ayin was using Carmen's nervous system all along in LC. I bite off the skin Chewing on its tender flesh Quaff down its lukewarm pus You became the "me" who you despised We swallowed the time Let us rewind Not too sure, but this part should be either about all the Sinners or Dante themself. Either way, the "You became the 'me' who you despised" line in the middle could mean that Dante's past self won't like the way they're acting now (which is definitely something Dias would feel) 5. Dias and Limbus 5.1 Dias' Goal As shown in DD, Dias is probably someone who thinks anyone that is useless to her is trash and hate lowly beings. (She straight up ignored Vespa, only answering a “Mm.” apathetically because Moses asked her about Vespa) Her goal is to become the Head (and therefore helped LC takeover the old L Corp) and I believe that would be the reason why Dias would be interested in Limbus Company, but unfortunately ended up getting partially tricked by this shady company into becoming the manager. (Ya must be a coincidence that a bus went into the woods and picked up a random person) Limbus company could offer a dream-come-true opportunity if you sign the contract (At least that's what it seems to be) so maybe Dias first wanted to simply finance LCB, but in the end signed a contract instead so they could engrave the aspect (whatever that is) So, it would be reasonable to say that is why Dante would be so angry if they were Dias when they were almost killed by the furries, because she almost got closer to her goal of being the Head if she could finish engraving the aspect. Also, Dias would not be satisfied of being the higher-up of LCB. In order to become the Head HERSELF, she would want to and should need to have 100% control over everything (like she used to do with the Udjat) But now, LCB is not fully under her control (What if some sinners want to leave after fulfilling their wish? Like, Vergilius actually violated his contract) . Dias wouldn't allow this to happen, she wants nothing blocking her path. Since nothing happened, I can say that Dias isn't aware of this, and the reason to this lack of response could be because she became Dante. 5.2 Company Financing Limbus Company has plenty of capital and resources (They can afford to provide ammo for LCCB which consists of relatively disposable and weak units), so where did that money come from? Maybe Hong Lu's family was financing the company, but with realizations comes tragedies, aren't they afraid that what if one day they got involved and died? From Hong Lu's IDs we can know that his grandparents explicitly told him to work at places they want him to, (telling him "To see more of the City and learn how the world goes") but in LCB he didn't mention such a thing unlike his mirror world versions. Since his grandparents are very blatant with Hong Lu regarding their act of nepotism, I doubt that they would hide it to Hong Lu if they really were the financial source behind Limbus Company, so that shouldn't be the case. Also, Roland mentioned a "Jade" when he talked about the strongest fixers. This "Jade" could have relations to Hong Lu, thus it isn't impossible that the financial support comes from there. However, there could be a conflict of interest if another person with a near-Color level is also involved in Limbus Company aside from Vergilius, so that shouldn't be too probable. Honestly, it is completely reasonable for Dias to be the one who dared to finance a no-name company like Limbus, since she did the same thing before and financed Lob Corp in the Smoke War. A war requires astronomical amount of resources and capital, and they were fighting against an EXISTING Wing, which is probably quite rich considering it was the only energy supplier at that time. Yet still, Dias supported LC and they won. Dias probably did this because she thinks that releasing the Light can ultimately allow her to become the Head, but her plan was hijacked along with Ayin's because of LC Angela. Now with the Library releasing the Light, Dias could finally continue her plan. Limbus Company is a perfect opportunity so she seeks to involve in the company by backing up its finances, which led to an outcome that she didn't thought of. 6. Other Miscellaneous By the way, Dante's height is 176cm where Dias' is 171cm. That's close enough, and it makes sense that the few additional centimeters are because of the clockhead. What's more is that Dante and Dias both start with "D" (like whatever is going on with Carmen and Catherine) Conclusion: Indeed I could be wrong, but come on, really? Leaving poor Dias behind all these events? She had been waiting since the start of LC! It should be time for PM to give her some love and get her back on stage instead of pulling another new character out of mid-air... TLDR: Dante=Dias because -was probably rich/powerful -very different from current Dante -had some big goals -have something to do with the Light -LCD and Dias can't knowingly coexist -we're running out of characters to cope on And that's all for now, waiting for PM to drop more info in the upcoming chapters (PM fuel my brainrot plssss)

so i just started seeing this SD about a month ago. We’ve met up about 4-5 times so far, and when we are with each other in person he consistently talks about trips he wants to take me on, gives me life advice, talks about our days, compliments me, etc (all the things I am looking for). However, through text, he is so unresponsive. He texts back maybe 30% of the time, and often one word answers. He asked me to send him content so I did and have been, and sometimes that provokes him to want to see me, sometimes it doesn’t. I flat out asked him if this is exclusive for now, just because I wanted to know for health/safety purposes and reiterated that I don’t care as long as we both are being safe. (he also consistently says things that indicate he wants exclusivity with me… like the other day he told me that he saw i was active on SA and i told him “well, sometimes you’re too busy for me” it was in a playful tone, but i lowkey meant that) Idk if he gets off on the chase, or is hiding something. I also saw a photo frame of him and a woman with some poem about love engraved onto it last time i was over at his house. i asked him if he had a wife and he said no, but then asked if he did would it change things. i personally don’t do well with being a secret in a marriage (i don’t judge anyone who is otherwise though. it’s purely personal preference) so i said yeah, it would change things. he said they were “business partners”… then he put the photo away and we got on to other activities. I am literally so easy breezy as an SB, all i need is consistent communication. this back and forth is frankly annoying and a bit exhausting, however financially i can’t really afford to cut ties right now. but im new to this stuff and dont really know what the proper etiquette is. should i stop sending him stuff and wait for him to reach out? should i continue to just feel like im pining for him? :(

This is my first post here, so please excuse me if I don't know all the rules yet. My name is Michael Henrik Wynn, and I am the editor of Historyradio.org and the youtube channel to which the following links will take you.
This is an audiobook on youtube of one of my stories, entitled "Celebrity Mourning"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hE64-G3MHA8
And here I am reading a little experiment, a retelling of a classic Chinese story about Judge Bao, their Sherlock Holmes from the 16th century. I was looking for a public domain translation, but couldn't find one. And then I retold the legend in stead using the main points of the narrative. After all, Feng Menglong himself retold a vernacular legend. I do not speak Chinese, just so we have that cleared up.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhOR59FE_g8
And finally a very short but very odd inuit legend I came across. This is an ai reading, but the text from the 1930s is very short. I added some music. It sounds not like legend at all but some poem. I can't explain it. This legend is so strange:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27LDjaEhJRI&t

...we came in?
So ya thought ya might like to go to the show
To feel the warm thrill of confusion
That space cadet glow
Tell me is something eluding you sunshine?
Is this not what you expected to see?
If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes
You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise
Lights!
Roll the sound effects!
Action!
Drop it, drop it on 'em
Drop it, drop it on them!
Momma loves her baby
And Daddy loves you too
And the sea may look warm to you, babe
And the sky may look blue
Ooh, babe
Ooh, baby blue
Ooh, babe
If you should go skating
On the thin ice of modern life
Dragging behind you the silent reproach
Of a million tear-stained eyes
Don't be surprised,
When a crack in the ice
Appears under your feet
You slip out of your depth and out of your mind
With your fear flowing out behind you
As you claw the thin ice
Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory
A snapshot in the family album
Daddy, what else did you leave for me?
Daddy, what d'ya leave behind for me?
All in all it was just a brick in the wall
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall
You! Yes, you! Stand still, laddie!
When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who
Would hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision
Upon anything we did
Exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kid
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night,
Their fat and psychopathic wives
Would thrash them within inches of their lives
We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teacher, leave them kids alone
Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone
All in all it's just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall
We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers, leave them kids alone
Hey, teacher, leave us kids alone
All in all you're just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall
Wrong! Do it again!
Wrong! Do it again!
If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding!
How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?!
You! Yes, you, behind the bike sheds. Stand still, laddie!
Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Mother, do you think they'll like this song?
Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?
Ooh, aah, mother, should I build the wall?
Mother, should I run for president?
Mother, should I trust the government?
Mother, will they put me in the firing line?
Ooh, aah, is it just a waste of time?
Hush now, baby, baby, don't you cry
Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you
Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing
She won't let you fly but she might let you sing
Mama's gonna keep baby cozy and warm
Ooh, babe, ooh, babe, ooh, babe
Of course mama's gonna help build the wall
Mother, do you think she's good enough for me?
Mother, do you think she's dangerous to me?
Mother, will she tear your little boy apart?
Ooh, aah, mother, will she break my heart?
Hush now, baby, baby, don't you cry
Mama's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you
Mama won't let anyone dirty get through
Mama's gonna wait up 'til you get in
Mama will always find out where you've been
Mamma's gonna keep baby healthy and clean
Ooh, babe, ooh, babe, ooh, babe
You'll always be a baby to me
Mother, did it need to be so high?
Look, Mummy. There's an airplane up in the sky
Did, did, did, did you see the frightened ones?
Did, did, did, did you hear the falling bombs?
Did, did, did, did you ever wonder
Why we had to run for shelter
When the promise of a brave new world
Unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?
Did, did, did, did you see the frightened ones?
Did, did, did, did you hear the falling bombs?
The flames are all long gone
But the pain lingers on
Goodbye blue sky
Goodbye blue sky
Goodbye
Goodbye
Hello, looker. Congratulations. You have just discovered the secret message. Please send your answer to Old Pink, care of the Funny Farm, Chalfont...
Roger! Carolyne's on the phone!
OK
What shall we use
To fill the empty spaces
Where we used to talk?
How shall I fill
The final places?
How should I complete the wall?
(Ah) I am just a new boy
A stranger in this town
Where are all the good times?
Who's gonna show this stranger around?
Ooh, I need a dirty woman
Ooh, I need a dirty girl
Will some woman in this desert land
Make me feel like a real man?
Take this rock-and-roll refugee
Ooh, baby, set me free
Ooh, I need a dirty woman
Ooh, I need a dirty girl
Ooh, I need a dirty woman
Ooh, I need a dirty girl
"Hello?"
"Yes, a collect call for Mrs. Floyd from Mr. Floyd. Will you accept the charge from the United States?"
"Oh, he hung up. That's your residence, right? Well, I wonder why he hung up. Is there supposed to be someone out there besides your wife there to answer?"
"Hello?"
"This is the United States calling. Are we reaching..."
"See, he keeps hanging up, and it's a man answering."
"Oh my God! What a fabulous room! Are all these your guitars?"
("I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to startle you!")
"God! This place is bigger than our apartment!"
("Let me know when you're entering a room.")
("Yes, sir!")
"Uh, can I get a drink of water?"
("I was wondering about dinner, sir.)
"You want some, huh?"
("Yes?")
("When do you and your guests want to dine? I have to inform the kitchen staff.")
"Oh wow, look at this tub? Wanna take a bath?"
("Yes, I'm aware of your duties, Dobbs.")
("Yes, sir.")
(I'll have to find out from Mrs. Bancroft what time she wants to eat. As for her maid, needless to say, she can have her meal with the kitchen help.)
"What are you watching?"
("Very good, sir. If you'll just let me know as soon as you can when you and Mrs Bancroft want to eat.")
("Mrs. Bancroft will be dining alone.")
"Hello?"
("Why? I don't understand, sir.")
("I won't be staying for dinner.")
"Are you feeling OK?..."
("I'm surprised to hear that, sir, since you just arrived.")
("Yes, I'm a little surprised about it myself.")
Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
And night after night, we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder
And nothing is very much fun any more
And I can feel one of my turns coming on
I feel cold as a razor blade
Tight as a tourniquet
Dry as a funeral drum
Run to the bedroom
In the suitcase on the left
You'll find my favourite axe
Don't look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
One of my bad days
Would you like to watch T.V.?
Or get between the sheets?
Or contemplate the silent freeway?
Would you like something to eat?
Would you like to learn to fly?
Would you?
Would you like to see me try?
Ah, no!
Would you like to call the cops?
Do you think it's time I stopped?
Why are you running away?
Ooh babe
Don't leave me now
Don't say it's the end of the road
Remember the flowers I sent
I need you babe
To put through the shredder
In front of my friends
Ooh babe
Don't leave me now
How could you go
When you know how I need you?
To beat to a pulp on a Saturday night
Ooh babe
Don't leave me now
How can you treat me this way
Running away?
Ooh babe
Why are you running away?
Ooh, babe
Ooh, babe
Ooh, babe
Ooh, ooh, ooh
This Roman meal bakery thought you'd like to know
I don't need no arms around me
And I don't need no drugs to calm me
I have seen the writing on the wall
Don't think I need anything at all
No, don't think I'll need anything at all
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall
All in all you were all just bricks in the wall
Goodbye cruel world
I'm leaving you today
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye all you people
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind
Goodbye
Hey, you!
Out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old
Can you feel me?
Hey, you!
Standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
Hey, you!
Don't help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight
Hey, you!
Out there on your own
Sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?
Hey, you!
With your ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?
Hey, you!
Would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home
But it was only fantasy
The wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain
Hey, you!
Out there on the road
Always doing what you're told
Can you help me?
Hey, you!
Out there beyond the wall
Breaking bottles in the hall
Can you help me?
Hey, you!
Don't tell me there's no hope at all
Together we stand
Divided we fall
"Well, only got an hour of daylight left, better get started. Isn't it unsafe to travel at night? It'll be a lot less safe to stay here. Your father's gonna pick up our trail before long. Can Lorca ride? He'll have to ride. Lorca, time to go! Chengra, thank you for everything. Let's go. Goodbye, Chengra, Goodbye, Missy! I'll be back one day"
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Ah, is there anybody out there?
"But there's somebody else that needs taking care of in Washington..."
"Who's that?"
"Rose Pilchitt!"
"Rose Pilchitt? Who's that?"
(Shut up!)
"36-24-36. Does that answer your question?"
(Oi! I've got a little black book with me poems in!)
"Who's she?"
"She was 'Miss Armoured Division' in 1961."
I've got a little black book with my poems in
Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I'm a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in
I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues
I've got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from
I've got electric light
And I've got second sight
I've got amazing powers of observation
And that is how I know
When I try to get through
On the telephone to you
There'll be nobody home
I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm
And the inevitable pinhole burns
All down the front of my favourite satin shirt
I've got nicotine stains on my fingers
I've got a silver spoon on a chain
I've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains
I've got wild staring eyes
And I've got a strong urge to fly
But I've got nowhere to fly to
Ooh, babe, when I pick up the phone
("Surprise, surprise, surprise")
There's still nobody home
I've got a pair of Gohil's boots
But I've got fading roots
Where the hell are you?
Over 47 German planes were destroyed with the loss of only 15 of our own aircraft
Where the hell are you, Simon?
Does anybody here remember Vera Lynn?
Remember how she said that we would meet again
Some sunny day?
Vera! Vera!
What has become of you?
Does anybody else in here feel the way I do?
Bring the boys back home
Bring the boys back home
Don't leave the children on their own, no, no
Bring the boys back home
Is there anybody out there?
Hello
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home?
Come on now
I hear you're feeling down
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again
Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am
I have become comfortably numb
I have become comfortably numb
O.K.
Just a little pin prick
There'll be no more ah!
But you may feel a little sick
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on, it's time to go
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb
Ooh ma ooh pa
Must the show go on?
Ooh pa take me home
Ooh ma let me go
There must be some mistake
I didn't mean to let them take away my soul
Am I too old? Is it too late?
Ooh ma ooh pa
Where has the feeling gone?
Ooh ma ooh pa
Will I remember the songs?
Ooh ah the show must go on
"Two... fire!"
So ya thought ya might like to go to the show
To feel the warm thrill of confusion
That space cadet glow
I got some bad news for you sunshine
Pink isn't well, he stayed back at the hotel
And they sent us along as a surrogate band
We're gonna find out where you fans really stand
Are there any queers in the theatre tonight?
Get 'em up against the wall (against the wall)
Now there's one in the spotlight, he don't look right to me
Get him up against the wall (against the...)
And that one looks Jewish and that one's a coon
Who let all this riff-raff into the room?
There's one smoking a joint and another with spots
If I had my way I'd have all of ya shot
Run, run, run, run
Run, run, run, run
Run, run, run, run
Run, run, run, run
You better make your face up with your favourite disguise
With your button down lips and your roller blind eyes
With your empty smile and your hungry heart
Feel the bile rising from your guilty past
With your nerves in tatters as the cockleshell shatters
And the hammers batter down your door
You better run!
Run, run, run, run
Run, run, run, run
Run, run, run, run
Run, run, run, run
You better run all day and run all night
And keep your dirty feelings deep inside
And if you're taking your girlfriend out tonight
You better park the car well out of sight
'Cause if they catch you in the back seat trying to pick her locks
They're gonna send you back to Mother in a cardboard box
You better run!
Hey, open up! Hahahahaha!
Hammer, hammer
Eins, zwei, drei, alle
Ooh-ooh, you cannot reach me now
Ooh-ooh, no matter how you try
Goodbye, cruel world, it's over
Walk on by
Sitting in a bunker here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come (worms to come)
In perfect isolation here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come
Testing. One. Two. One. Two. The worms will convene at 1:15 outside Brixton Town Hall where we will be going in force!
Waiting to cut out the deadwood
Waiting to clean up the city
Waiting to follow the worms
Waiting to put on a black shirt
Waiting to weed out the weaklings
Waiting to smash in their windows and kick in their doors
Waiting for the final solution to strengthen the strain
Waiting to follow the worms
Waiting to turn on the showers and fire the ovens
Waiting for the queers and the coons and the reds and the Jews
Waiting to follow the worms
Would you like to see Britannia rule again
(Would you like to see us rule again)
My friend?
All you have to do is follow the worms
Would you like to send our coloured cousins home again
(Would you like to send them home again)
My friend?
All you need to do is follow the worms
The Worms will convene outside Brixton Bus Station, where we'll be moving along at about 12 o'clock down Stockwell Road
At that point, we'll be heading towards Lambeth Road, where we will walk calmly with resistance, leaving twelve minutes to three as we move along Lambeth Road towards Vauxhall Bridge
Now when we get to the other side of Vauxhall Bridge, we're in Westminister Borough area. It's quite possible that we may encounter some Jew boys all the way from 4, 5, and 6 on the way as we go
Now is the time to clean up the city, for this is the beginning! We need to secure our people! We can't stand around and let ourselves be robbed, maimed, and killed!
And when we make it to the Highclock Corner, I want you to spread out and find them!
Storm the halls, and then tear the walls and the doors! Break down the doors and hunt them where they are!
(Hammer! Hammer! Hammer! Hammer!)
Stop!
Stop
I wanna go home
Take off this uniform
And leave the show
And I'm waiting in this cell
Because I have to know
Have I been guilty all this time
Good morning, the Worm your honour
The crown will plainly show
The prisoner who now stands before you
Was caught red-handed showing feelings
Showing feelings of an almost human nature
This will not do
Call the schoolmaster!
I always said he'd come to no good
In the end, your honour
If they'd let me have my way
I could have flayed him into shape
But my hands were tied
The bleeding hearts and artists
Let him get away with murder
Let me hammer him today
Toys in the attic
I am crazy
Truly gone fishing
They must have taken my marbles away
Crazy
Toys in the attic
He is crazy
You little shit, you're in it now
I hope they throw away the key
You should've talked to me more often than you did
But no, you had to go your own way
Have you broken any homes up lately?
"Just five minutes, Worm your honour, him and me alone"
Babe
Come to mother, baby, let me hold you in my arms
M'Lord I never wanted him to get in any trouble
Why'd he ever have to leave me?
Worm your honour, let me take him home
Crazy
Over the rainbow
I am crazy
Bars in the window
There must have been a door there in the wall
When I came in
Crazy
Over the rainbow
He is crazy
The evidence before the court is incontrovertible
There's no need for the jury to retire
In all my years of judging
I have never heard before
Of someone more deserving of the full penalty of law
The way you made them suffer—
Your exquisite wife and mother—
Fills me with the urge to defecate
(Go on, judge. Shit on him.)
Since, my friend, you have revealed your deepest fear
I sentence you to be exposed before your peers
Tear down the wall
All alone or in twos
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand-in-hand
And some gathered together in bands
The bleeding hearts and the artists make their stand
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall
Isn't this where we...

CHAPTER 1
A gloomy rain fell down from the steely grey clouds above England, creating puddles in pot holes and mud pits in mounds of dirt. The small english town of Derry had been flooded before, and the townspeoples fears of another had put everyone on edge. Nobody dared utter the word though, their superstitions wouldn't allow that. People in Derry were well known for their superstitious and cagey behavior, but this was not entirely unwarranted. It wasn't just a flood here and there once in a while in Derry, they had a long and colorful past with all types of disasters, some man made, others acts of god.
There was the great black spot fire of 1979, in which a white supremacist group burnt down a local disco predominantly visited by Derry's small black and latino community, accidentally torching half the town down in the process. In 1952 there was the expansive national ASDF league shoot out, which lasted a total nine hours in the Derry town square before the police finally got the upper hand and killed every gang member on sight. But the most horrific of all was in 1925, when the Derry ironworks exploded, killing all it's workers as well as everyone participating in the annual Derry christmas parade nearby, most of which were children.
These were just a few of the horrific events Derry township had gone through, and bizzarely, no matter how gruesome each event was, none were ever on the news or remembered too well. That was just how Derry worked, despite it's reputation as a sleepy, dreary town where nothing much ever happened, tragedies were rampant. So you couldn't quite blame the people for being superstitious and scared, especially in autumn when the weather was at it's absolute worst. It was late autumn now though, there was only about four more days till winter, and the worries of floods would soon turn into worries for blizzards, and people were certain the worst of the worst had already came and went.
On this fine rainy saturday in a white two story house, Tom Denbrough was sitting upstairs, doing what he did everyday, writing songs. He'd been wrestling with an awful case of influenza the past few days, hocking up phlegm and wiping snot from his nose every few minutes 'til it was rubbed raw. He had not much energy for anything else because of it, all he could muster the strength to do now was lay in his checkered, tissue covered bed sheets, and wait for his mother to bring him chicken noodle soup and sprite to ease his churning tummy.
It wasn't too bad though, a lot of people can't stand being alone, but Tom often thrived in solitude. Ever since he was a kid he'd taken a liking to it, he was "introverted" as some one would like to say, but back then introverts were seen as more of a problem than just a thing you could be. It felt odd for him to say "ever since he was a kid" as if he wasn't still a kid now, but he technically wasn't. He'd bid farewell to such a label by september, and swapped out the childish number twelve to the unlucky number thirteen, and Tom still wasn't so sure if he was happy with that.
He didn't quite feel like an adult, and people still had yet to treat him as such, but Tom had his own suspicions about that. He knew there was more reason than just him still being a minor, because the truth of the matter was that everyone enjoyed babying him because of his condition.
He was disabled, dis-abled, the word making him feel weird even now. Before Tom was called such a thing he had considered the word disabled to exclusively mean people in wheelchairs, missing legs, or some of the really out there stuff like conjoined twins. He never pictured disabled meaning some on like him, a boy with a bad stutter but a healthy body and brain. Perhaps that was closed minded of him, but alas, Tom was only thirteen, and his scope of reference for the world was much smaller than he pretended it to be.
Even the doctors in Derry didn't treat him all that compassionately, insisting to both him and his mother that he must have been "slow" in some way, but just hiding it, no matter what he or his parents said. It took Tom fighting tooth and nail just to get out of special Ed. which was basically just four kids in a classroom asked to do elementary level shit because the teacher did not believe they were capable of more. He still had to go to regular speech therapy though, which Tom loathed since in all his years of going it seemed to have done him no favors.
He still stuttered, barely getting through sentences without stumbling over at least one word, and getting even worse whenever he felt nervous or scared. That was probably the worst part about it, Tom had never liked being emotional or letting people know he was affected by things, especially when kids at school enjoyed getting a rise out of him. His panicked little drawn out "bu-bu-bu-bu-" sounding like sweet music to his tormentors ears. It was nearly possible for him to hide his feelings or keep his cool whenever he was scared, because that stupid god damn stutter was like a built in lie detector.
He didn't know where the stutter had came from, there were theories here and there, but none of them ever made him feel better. The most likely one involved a car rear ending him when he was only a toddler, knocking him into a coma but miraculously not killing him. He was in it for only a few weeks, but emerged with his stutter, which of course young and niave Tom didn't understand would cause him so much trouble later down the line.
Because Tom didn't like to talk much, he spent a lot of time writing music in his room, his lyrics were all very hamfisted and schlocky, but for a thirteen year old boy they were quite good, and would only get better the more with age. He loved music, lived and breathed it, specifically the sounds of motown records, funk, rap, rock and roll, all the sorts. He had to keep that all a secret from his mother though, she was a musical elitist of sorts. She went to a fancy schamncy music school and had been teaching piano to students for years, so she had a hard time enjoying anything that wasn't classical or something their grandma would listen to.
When Tom went out to buy a bass he had to mow a crap ton of lawns and convince his dad to keep it a secret from mom, but it was well worth all the effort. He only got to play it when she was away at work, never daring to smuggle it out of the house and go busk unless some one decided to be an asshole and tell her. But he loved his bass more than anything, he even gave her a name, since Tom figured all rock stars named their instruments. He chose Susan, after the families first and only dog they had when he was little, and it seemed to stick. Ever since then Tom had remained adamant that you couldn't play an intrument with out giving it a name first.
Even though he enjoyed writing music, and it was the thing that made him the most happy, there was still a slight underlying sadness to it whenever he'd play. He'd lwanted to be a rock star ever since he first heard Van Halen and fell in love with the sound, but with that dream also came the knowledge it'd never happen. Afterall, who the hell would wanna hear him on a record? Stuttering all over the place, stumbling over words, heck, people would send in complaints that how their brand new records were scratched and skipping. There was nobody like him on the radio, and that painful truth kept him from ever singing to anybody but a very small and select audience. And by audience, he meant his stuffed teddy bear and little brother, absolutely no one else.
Speaking of which, his very small audience was on his way up stairs, stomping like a clydesdale despite their mothers constant reprimands about it. Jon knocked on Tom's bedroom door, then immediately pushed it open without being invited in. He was only six, so things like boundries and personal space were not so ingrained him. Neither was self conciousness, maliciousness, or the ability to not be incredibly annoying, but Tom tried very hard to not hold that last one against him. He scanned the room with wide and curious eyes, like he had just stumbled upon a new and foreign world despite being in here many times before.
He loved Tom's room, he loved it more than his own. He thought it was so cool and groen up how he had band posters on his walls. There was a ton of other cool stuff too like a nintendo 64 he'd sometimes let him play, a drawing desk, and a heap of awesome clothes he said he could have when he got bigger! It was a lot cooler than his own bedroom, which was fairytale prince themed and had his half finished lego projects strewn all about, but he still liked his room well enough.
Tom looked up from the note book he was currently writing on and wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve. "Whuh-what d-do you want?" Asked Tom, a little curt. He was good at being polite and caring to Jon most of the time, he was only six afterall, he couldn't go around screaming at him, but it was harder to be patient with him when he was working on something.
Jon ran up to Tom, as if right on cue and looked up to him with needy adoring eyes that seemed to soften his attitude. "Toooom, I'm very sad..." Jon complained, and Tom rolled his eyes. He forced a smile and put the pencil he was writing with down "Oh yeah? are you actu-u-ually sad or just buh-bored?". Jon giggled at how blunt he was being "I'm sad and boreeeed.". Tom leaned closer to Jon's face, but not too close since he was still sick and didn't want him to catch it. "Sad peop-puh-puh-ple don't giggle, moron." He said, booping Jon on the nose with his index finger, causing him to erupt into another giggle.
If their mother was here in the room with them she'd no doubt say "Thomas! Stop calling your brother a moron!" Then lightly smack him on the back of the head, not enough to actually hurt but enough to knock some sense into him. Jon didn't mind it at all though, he saw it as just his brother being silly with him, and he'd always call Tom names right back. "You're a cheesehead." Jon said, biting down on his tongue and smiling. "You're a buh-buttbrain." Tom retorted. "You're a cakesniffer!" Jon exclaimed. "You're an A-ho-hole." Jon went silent at that. That was a no no word, well, not quite, but almost. Mom and dad were very strict about no no words, although he heard Tom say them all the time over the phone when he wasn't supposed to be listening.
Suddenly, another wave of laughter came from him, so loud and hearty he had to hold his belly like santa while he laughed. "You're an A-hole!" Jon said, still laughing. The two boys then launched into a big silly argument of who was the bigger A-hole, eventually ending with Tom proclaiming Jon's A-hole was bigger than the entire continent and both the boys giggling like mad. "Now guh-go away puke stuh-stain, i'm sick and I don't want you to catch it." Tom said, smiling and gently shooing his brother away. "Waiiiit! Peas Tommy, play me a song!" Jon begged, putting his hands together like he was praying.
"It's p-puh-please, not peas, Jon. B-besides, I can't sing, my voice is too hoarse and my stuh-stuh-stuh-" Tom closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself. "I'm terrible singer." He continued. "No you're nawt! you're an amazing singer! Peas, just one song?" Jon pleaded. "Play me the one about the kid who grows up to be a superhero! Peas peas peas peaaaasss?". Tom shook his head "No can do, kid. Go b-buh-bug some one else before you catch my-" he sneezed into his elbow, grossing his little brother out. "Eugh... cold." Tom grumbled.
"There's nothing to do thoooouuugh." Jon complained, crossing his arms in a huff. "Why don't you go bug mom or dad?" "Mommy's practicing piano and daddy's trying to get the electricity back on..." he mumbled, a little sad. The constant rain and thunder had knocked out a lot of the houses in their neighborhood's power and still had yet to kick back on. The Denbrough boys were quite lucky to have their father with them, he was amazing when it came to things that involved a screwdriver or a wrench, and you'd never guess it by looking at him.
He'd hardly wear anything but Hawaiian pineapple shirts and socks with sandals, but he was still a very smart man none the less. He worked for their town's electrical company, and Tom could still remember the look of pride he had during career day in primary school when he told everyone his dad was responsible for keeping the town's power in check. It was quickly dashed when some asshole decided to ruin it by asking if his dad slept on the job and zapped him on accident and that's why he "Couldn't talk right.". The worst part of it was that Tom was pretty sure he didn't mean for it to be an insult, and was just genuinely asking it out of ignorance. He deeply hoped wherever that kid was now, he was in great pain.
Their mothers piano playing should have been obvious to Tom, it was loud and carried it's way all through out the house, even up the stairs, but it seemed to be just background noise at this point. He hadn't noticed it until now, but his mother was playing much faster than usual, she was in the "zone" so to speak, and wanted to hold onto that for as long as she could, so both Jon and Tom were shit out of luck. Tom sighed "Jeez." He leaned back into his pillows and thought for a moment, shoving all the gross snot filled tissues and crumpled up rejected lyrics from his first few failed attemps at writing a new song.
Jon awkwardly shifted around on his feet, swinging his arms side to side as if waiting for further instruction on what to do. "It's a damn sh-shuh-shame that it's raining so bad or else you could play outside." Jon nodded, and sighed, genuinely disappointed by the amount of rain. Suddenly, Tom snapped his fingers and rose up from his bed "H-hold on- I just remembered s-omething.". He quickly grabbed a folded up newspaper that his mom had left on his night stand for him to read, then ripped out one of the pages.
"What are you doing Tom?" Innocently asked Jon. He straightended it out and folded it into a triangle shape, sticking his tongue out like he was hard at work. "I'm muh-makin you a p-puh-puh-aper boat, just like dad taught me how to do when I was s-six." He explained. Jon's face lit up "Wow, really!?" he waddled over to the bed and smiled. "Yep, dad and I used to sail these all the time. Do me f-f-fuh-fav-or and go in the basement and bring back some puh-puh-puh-puh-" Tom paused again and forced another smile. "Paraffin. It's in a little b-box that says gulf." he finished.
"You mean... in the basement?" Jon mumbled, suddenly a little intimidated. "Yes, you're not scared are you?" His brother asked, half amused and half concerned. On one hand, it was very cute that Jon felt the need to impress him and pretend to be tough, on the other, he was barely not a toddler anymore, and Tom didn't wanna scare him on purpose. Jon shook his head "No i'm not scared, being scareds for babies. I can do it.". "O-o-okay, but j-just in case... here." He handed him a walkie-talkie, the kind they'd usually use to communicate whenever they'd pretend to be soldiers on the battlefield together during summer.
"C-cuh-call me if you need me." he instructed, and Jon nodded again. He skipped happily to the door, only stopping whe Tom called out "And remember Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-". "Paraffin, I know!" Jon cheerfully replied, figuring if he didn't say it Tom would be stuck on the p's forever. He shut the door and hopped down the stairs, leaving Tom to his very important task of sitting in bed and sneezing. He only waited 'til after Jon was gone to let his smile drop and chastise himself for not actually saying the word. He'd never show Jon just how much he loathed his stutter, especially since Jon found it cool and Tom didn't wanna ruin the magic of it.
When he first learned how to talk he'd constantly immitate it, which naturally caused their parents some fear that the stutter was genetic or could be "caught" so to speak. Jon had no idea how much Tom hated his stutter, how it made people see him, how it actively dashed his dreams. Sometimes at school he'd get so flustered he'd have to clutch his desk and try so very hard to form a sentence and it still wasn't cohesive.
He was not and never would be just Tom Denbrough to his classmates, or even his teachers, although they'd never admit that. He was Stuttering Tom, Tuh-Tuh-Tuh-Tom to the particularly cruel ones, and Tom hated it. The absolute worst part of being in a situation like Tom's was no doubt the inability to open up about how much you dislike yourself. After all, preteen boys are already closed off, especially so in a small rural town like Derry where the homophobes outnumbered the gay community ten to two, but Tom had it the worst.
Nobody wants to be the guy to come out and say you think stuttering makes you a freak, all you'd really do is bring other disabled people down and raise up the dickheads who instilled that self hatred in him to begin with, but that's how he felt ans he couldn't help that. He was sure that's how his parents felt too, they did love him dearly and saw to almost all his needs 24/7, but they were still eagerly waiting for him to stop the stutter, and had so for a long time.
The doctors told him it'd only stick around for a few years after he got over the shock of the coma, but that date came and went, and still, Tom's stutter remained. You could tell they were both disappointed, and he truly could not blame them, because he was disappointed too. He didn't know what was wrong with him, or why he never got better despite countless visits to the speech therapist, but he began to wonder if there was something incredibly wrong with him. Everyone felt that way, even if they pretended like they didn't, everyone except for Jon that is. Jon adored him with or without the stutter, and Tom was supremely thankful for that.
While Tom continued to chastise himself, Jon hopped down the stairs joyfully. So joyfully, he nearly forgot that he'd be going down to the cellar, where dreams and little boys would surely go to die. He dashed through the house, past his mom's prized women's bowling league trophy's, past the grand piano, and past their big fancy living room he and Tom would solve puzzles in.
He threw open the cellar door and stared down at the abyss in front of him, fianlly letting the fear and anxiety settle in. Rickety, paint chipped stairs with large empty gaps of space between them disappeared off into the darkness of the room, the power still not back on despite their fathers best efforts. The bottom of the basement had been flooded at some point during one of the worse storms of the season, and the smell of soaked moldy wood and muddy water grossed Jon out quite a bit.
He stood there for a moment, a creeping sense of dread tugging at his chest like a dog on your pant leg. He was waiting for something, a large claw or alien tentecale to reach out from the dark and rip him to bits, but there was nothing. He must have been standing there for a while too because suddenly the walkie-talkie blared to life with Tom's voice, and he jumped back in shock.
"What's t-taking so long?" Asked Tom, and Jon nervously swallowed. "I stopped in the kitchen for a snack." He lied, he knew you weren't supposed to do that, lying was probably the worst thing you could do to your family. Well, that's what Jon thought was the worst at least, He was a little bit too young to know about some of the truly awful stuff some people do to their own kin. Familicide, Sexual abuse, beating, his parents and Tom had been working hard to keep his innocence. Derry was a hard place to do that in, it seemed like every couple of years some one went crazy and killed a lot of people. Jon had even heard bits and pieces of such things being whispered by his mom to his uncle over the phone, but for the most part, his childhood had stayed in tact.
"You know if muh-mom sees you snacking before din-din-er she'll have a cow." said Tom. "I know, i'm sorry." Jon mumbled. "It's whatever dude, just hu-hurry, and do-don't forget to grab to some muh-muh-muh-matches and one of those wax burner thingies.". "Okay, i'm doing it now." He said, then stuffed the walkie-talkie back into his pants pocket, but he was not, in fact, doing it now.
He still stood at the top of the stairs, terrified by the prospect of going down below, and still waiting for the inevitable mutated bat creature to emerge and drag him down into the depths of their flooded basement. Then, just as he was thinking about turning back, his own thoughts began to taunt him. "Come oooon Jon, you're not a baby are you? Only babies get scared by stuff like monsters and the dark. Do you want a boat or not?" He thought. "No." He replied and clenched his fists, grumbling into the darkness "I'm not a baby. I can do this.".
He took one step down the creaky stairs, frightening himself by the surprisingly loud noise they made, but calmed himself. He reiterated "I am not a baby." under his breath over and over again, as if it was a powerful spell that could keep all of the monsters away. It reminded him of how, whenever Tom's stutter would get particularly bad, his mom would have him recite these poems that were meant to help him focus and form sentences again. Sometimes they'd help him alot, but they could never make the stutter go away completely.
That was kind of what was happening now to Jon, he was still very much scared, so scared that if something popped out at him right now he may very well wet his pants, but the words coddled him and made him feel like he could press on. He hopped off the last step and into the flood, the water so low it could not even reach the six year old childs ankles. He turned his attention to a large rickety shelf under the cellar stairs and inspected the contents.
There were many items on it, shoepolish, old dish rags, wrenches, flashlights with no batteries, a can of turtle wax. For some reason, out of all those objects the turtle wax was what caught his attention, even more than the Paraffin and matches he came down here to get. The company's logo on the front was what really seemed to draw his eye, it was nothing special really, hardly as interesting of a mascot as a Tony the tiger or even a Ronald Mcdonald, just a tiny albino turtled posing proudly above the words turtle and wax. But Jon just couldn't stop staring at it for some reason. A spontaneous pang of familiarity hit him in the chest, as he racked his brain to try and remember where he had seen a turtle like that before.
Was it a dream? It felt too real to be jusr a dream, but much too distant to be a memory. He'd have to think about that later when he had the time, right now he had a mission to do. He snatched up the box, matches, and wax burner then bolted for the steps as fast as he could. Now that he had gotten what he came for he wasn't gonna waste any time down there. He ran as fast as his little legs could, begging god or whatever diety was listening to please not let anything grab his ankles as he ran back up the stairs.
The damp darkness of the cellar was suffocating and opressive, and Jon feared once he got back to the candle lit parlor room, that would be when the creature laid his slimy hands on him and pulled him back. He had made it though, despite all odds he was alive and still had yet to be digested by some hungry beast living under the stairs. He slammed the door and pressed his back against it, panting from how fast he was running as the fear of the dark slowly disappeared until the next time he had to confront it.
His mother suddenly stopped her piano playing to look up at him from across the room, somewhat worried, but highly annoyed by her son's slamming of the door. "Johnathan Bowley Denbrough, what have I told you about slamming that door?" She scolded, but not too harshly as her son was clearly frightened. He swept his bangs out of his face and panted a little more "Sorry mum." he muttered. She shook her head dismissively and went right back to playing Für Elise, which actually helped ease his anxiety.
He headed back up stairs and quickly placed all the stuff on Tom's night stand, eagerly watching as he melted the wax with such hypnotic glee he couldn't help but bounce a little. Tom dipped his finger in the wax and spread it over the paper boat, turning the boat from a nice white to an odd yellowy brown color. Jon got a little too close for comfort, putting his head over his brother's shoulder and breathing quite heavily on him, and yet, Tom still didn't seem to get annoyed.
The only time he'd really ever get annoyed with Jon's behavior was when he'd repeat stuff and ask incessant questions, which he had slowly learned over the years not to do for his brother's sake. They were seeing to each other needs, and it wasn't wasn't just because Tom didn't wanna get in trouble or Jon didn't wanna get yelled at, but a genuine shared affection for one another.
Jon dipped a finger into the wax and began to spread some on it's side with him, smiling and perfectly content. "C-careful you little cootie, you'll make it too heh-heavy and it'll flop on it's side." Tom gently reprimanded. "Oops.." he said, taking his hand away and letting the rest on his finger dry until he could peel it off. "It's oh-kuh-kuh-kay, just take it easy." He said, giving his brother a reassuring headpat to show there was no hard feelings.
Once the wax was spread, Tom took a sharpie from a Disneyland branded cup he used to store his pens and markers and then uncapped it with his mouth. He wrote "S.S. Jon" on the side in cursive font, and even drew a little stick figure captain waving on top of the boat, which Jon found very silly. He handed it to him, gingerly and carefully like it was a one of a kind art piece that belonged in a museum. "She's all ready Captain." he said, raising his hand to his forehead and doing a two finger salute. Jon giggled, but tilted his head in confusion "She?" he wondered.
"You always call boats a sh-she Jon." He explained, and Jon's mouth fell open like he just learned some amazing untold truth about the universe. He clutched the boat in his hands and grinned, looking up with pure adoration and love for the thirteen year old sitting on the bed. Then, quite randomly, Jon lunged right at him for a big hug, startling Tom.
"Agh! What the heck are you doing?! You're gonna g-geh-get sick!" He shouted. Jon laughed then kissed Tom on the cheek, something he hadn't done since he was three. "Eugh, now you're d-d-definetly gonna get sick. Get off me." He lightly scooched him off and Jon looked back to him, still smiling, and still very thankful. "Thanks Tom Tom, thanks alot." He said, and Tom shrugged.
"It's fine, just don't come crying to me when you get the flu and start vu-vomiting your g-guh-guh-uts out.". Tom paused to loudly cough, momentarily drawing some concern from his brother. "And p-p-put on a rain coat when you go out, I d-don't want you getting soaked." He wheezed, huddling under the covers. "Okay!" Jon cheerfully replied, closing the door and heading to the down stairs closet where they kept all the coats.
He put the small baby blue rain slicker on over the baggy sweater he was wearing and finangled with the buttons for a while, still not all that good at hand eye coordination dude to his young age. When he finally managed to get most of them through the holes, he pumped his fist in celebration, and even did a spin. On his way out the door he stopped to grab a pair of black galoshes that still had some mud left on them. He and Tom had went outside together a week ago and simply neglected to clean them since, then, as if in an act of karma for being so lazy, Tom caught a very bad cold the following day.
Jon waddled out the front door into the cool autumn air, making squeaky squishing noises with each step from the rubber soles of his boots. He took a few steps off the porch, only to be greeted by a sudden but gentle breeze hitting the side of his face and pushing his hair around. The now weaning rain fell down from the sky and onto poor little Jon's head, tapping politely on his hood as if to say "Hello Jon! It's your buddy, the rain! Let me in!". He walked a little bit further until he was at the edge of the driveway, then turned around to look back up at his house. It was a moderately above average two story home, nothing special, but to Jon it might as well had heen a castle. His bedroom was right across from Tom's on the second floor, although his over looked the back yard and Tom's overlooked the drive way.
He was peeking through the bay window his bed was by now, standing up on his knees and peeling back the curtains to watch him walk away. Since the house was still dark from the power outage, Tom was barely visible to him. He looked like a floating disembodied head, something Jon found both silly and a little spooky. He jumped in place and waved wildly at him, as if he thought Tom might possibly be able to miss the toddler dressed in a bright blue rain slicker and boots. Tom smiled then lifted up the walkie-talkir in his hand to his mouth "B-be careful. There's alot of w-weirdos out there.". Jon rolled his eyes, still smiling, but a tiny bit annoyed.
He took out his own walkie-talkie from his back pocket and pressed the button to respond. "You sound like mum." he joked. "C-can it." Tom said, a little flustered, especially since he knew it was true. Depite their differences, Tom had always been more like his mother than his father, and the opposite had been true for Jon. He giggled at his embarrassment, "I'll stay safe, don't be such a cry baby, Tom.". "Hey, I resent that label, I'm a cry man." And now they were both snickering over the radios.
"I'm serious though, stay safe." Tom reiterated. "Ok ok- I will- I love you." Jon said, and Tom went silent for a moment as he did not know how to respond. Jon was lucky enough to still be at the age where you could tell another guy you loved them and no one cared, and Tom desperately wished for him to stay like that and never get to old for saying I love you. Lord knows he was forced to out of it a long time ago, and he'd all but forgotten how to do it.
"I- uh- uhm-" Tom hesitated for a second, even with out all the macho man bullshit he had to go through at school, Tom had a hard time letting others know how he felt. Trying to hock out the words was like trying to hock out a pill you didn't mean to take. He swallowed "I lo-love you too." He spat out, and Jon seemed content with that.
He cheerily skipped down the street with his walkie-talkie in one hand and Paper boat in the other, splashing in rain water with each stomp. Tom fell back down onto his bed and sighed, totally exhausted. He wanted to take a long nap now, and he seemed quite over due for one judging by his throbbing head ache. His mothers constant repitition of Für Elise didn't really help that at all, if anything it made it worse. God, if he could have just a single moment of silence he would be happy as a clam.
What Tom didn't know though was that this song's meaning was about to be forever changed for him, from just an annoyingly pompous piano tune to a song that even twenty seven years later could still send him into a trance. From that day forward, anytime he heard those first few notes he'd always have the exact same haunting thought. "That's it, that's the song. That's the song mom was playing the day Jon passed away.". And as it turned out, that rainy view of Jon from his bedside window would be the last time he'd ever see his brother again.

Here is my 2 cents on this topic:
Hookup culture and having a high body count can have negative impacts, especially for young people. It can lead to a lack of emotional connection and respect in relationships, making it harder to form meaningful connections with others. This can also contribute to feelings of loneliness and confusion about what true intimacy really means. It's important to remember that healthy relationships are built on mutual trust, respect, and understanding rather than superficial encounters.
Toxic feminism has sometimes led to the misunderstanding of what empowerment truly means. When people associate a woman dancing half-naked with feminism, it can be a harmful misrepresentation. Feminism is about equality and empowering women to make choices based on their own values and desires, without being judged or objectified. It's important to recognize that true feminism supports individual autonomy and diversity of expression, rather than promoting harmful stereotypes or expectations about how women should behave.
As young individuals navigating today's society, it's essential to question and critically assess the messages and culture that surround us. We should strive to create a culture that values personal worth and genuine connections over superficial encounters and high body counts. By promoting empathy, respect, and understanding in our interactions, we can contribute to building healthier relationships and a more inclusive society for everyone.
Also if u dont agree with me ask yourself this question would u knowingly marry a girl with body count or would u ever think that she is the one who will be mother to my child. No right ?
Girls past matters as much as A man future matter
Here is a beautiful poem for all of u which elaborates today's datting scenario
"Born in the Era of hookup and next,
Where love ends just on a text.
In a culture where pulling many is a flex,
Where finding love is complex."
Whats your thoughts about this situation?
Peace out