Lyrics to usher let it burn

Howdy folks,

 I just want to preface that this is something I have been meaning to do since I was a young child. Ghibli movies made me who I am today and I mean this most sincerely. I could not live with myself if I had not at least written my most sincere gratitude towards the man that has most influenced my world. That being said, I am not naive enough to think that that my letter may ever be read, let alone be responded to, but it is important to me that it at least arrives where it's meant to. I am willing to hire a professional Japanese translator to have my letter transcribed, and I would like some tips on what to expect when sending post to Japan internationally. This letter is being sent from the US, and any unlikely correspondence will also be being returned overseas, so any advice on how to get things set up nicely will be immensely appreciated. 

Much Love, A Fellow Ghibli Fan

This is going to be a long rant. I do and don't understand what is up and looking for some explanations. Please bear with me.
I've been dating since the age of 20 i.e. college, when I was away from home. I was in a couple of serious relationships but my parents being typical strict conservative north Indian folks, were not open to me dating, so I kept my relationships secret. When I was 23-24 still doing my masters/phd my mother started pressuring me start looking for a guy to get married, made my profiles on matrimonial platforms etc. I was constantly refusing - wasn't interested in marriage at that time and let's just say my parents haven't set a great example of a marriage, so I clearly didn't like the idea of being married from a very young age. Around the age of 26 (i had started working), she started asking me if I have someone in my life, I did, but due to a few past incidents I knew better than to tell her I'm dating someone. I loved the guy I was with but it was LDR and we weren't there yet. At 27 I shared with her a little bit about the guy and she was receptive mostly. However, the relationship didn't pan out, so I told her I dropped the idea.
Meanwhile, I was constantly hounded with a whole bunch of profiles of guys from my community on a daily basis throughout this time. I had set a very rigid criteria, since I have been academically inclined, from tier 1 institutes, am decent looking and well I am picky. She had, overtime, chipped at my criteria by telling me I have to compromise if I want a match. I kept telling her over and over again, I was not interested in people who didn't meet it with reasons but still we had many fights over the time period and eventually I relented and lowered my standards (all this over phone as I was staying away).
There have been 2 guys I genuinely liked through AM and said yes to, but after decent amount of talks (over months) my parents did a background check and found out about their lifestyles and rejected them. Before the rejections, my mother was building the whole wedding processes and checklists and events in her fantasies and discussing with me while I showed little interest in it and kept telling her to be cool and we'll see when we get to that point. She also told me to not talk as much with those guys because that's proper. Boils my blood. Ugh.
Last year I introduced her to a guy, she liked him and started with her fantasies again. I told her to calm down and hold her horses nothing has happened yet. But she went on. It didn't pan out with the guy.
Now I'm 30, have been in a relationship with a wonderful guy I've known for many years. We're super compatible and I really love him. A few weeks ago, we decided to move forward. I met his parents and it was pretty chill he has a nice family (I already kinda love them). He met my mom too. And since then, she has started the whole thing again. We should meet his family like this, then we'll do this, you should start buying outfits, we'll buy these and these gifts, have these event etc. She's very excited. But I feel a mix of irritation/repulsion/rage/annoyance/guilt. I don't want participate in these discussions with her - she and I are not on the same page at all. She's again getting way too ahead of herself and the situation and building fantasies. Today morning she suddenly said to me that her and my dad (i had previously impressed on her that we wont do such conservative approach since and the whole family will go together, still she is stuck on just her and dad) will go see his family this sunday since its navratri and an auspicious time, and next few weeks are not auspicious so they wont be able to meet. I said it's too soon, please wait. She said fine, then i wont meet them at all. Ffs. It's affecting my general mood, and my feeling towards my relationship 😭😭
Thank you for bearing with my long senseless rant. But what is going on? Can anyone relate? Do you have any ideas?

Hi! My name is Ibrahim and I've been on this sub since last year, at the peak of the trial, albiet on another account. I hope this post is allowed on this subreddit.
I started making tiktoks last year in order to show support for Amber, on my tiktok account. i’ll link it at the bottom. A few of my amber videos went viral and Julia Fox even commented on one of them. (my account is very random so you'll probably have to scroll down a while lol).
I recently decided I wanted to show my support for Amber in public, and as such, I decided to create some designs on redbubble where you can order the design on stickers, shirts, hoodies, etc. I am not a graphic designer by any means and these are really basic designs, but I hope that I can encourage others to show their support by releasing designs too.
Here is the link to my shop: http://www.redbubble.com/people/alluvics
Also, I am not intending to make any money off these products. They do have a 20% markup on them (which I receive) but that amount of money will be donated to u/LeaveHeardAlone's GoFundMe, which is raising funds to support the SAFE Alliance. Unfortunately there's no way of doing that from Redbubble (or not that I know of, but let me know if there is) so you have to just take my word for it, but I linked my actual profile/accounts because I want you to be able to trust me. I will also gladly provide receipts of the donations if I do get any purchases made (this is all under the assumption that Redbubble will even pay me to begin with, as to be honest I'm not sure how their processes work, and if I'm even allowed to use someone's name or face). I'm assuming I will be paid monthly, and then with that amount of money I will donate to the GoFundMe.
If you would like a specific photo of Amber on the design, or a different colour, let me know and I'll edit it. I chose purple because it's the DV awareness colour.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting Amber Heard :) my tiktok is @alluvics.

I’ve moved in to a new city for university and I’m currently staying with my grandma (82 yo), and I feel like it’s starting to take a toll on my mental health. My uncle who also lived with us has suffered from her actions for over 10 years and had to go several times back to medication and therapy because of her. (He still insisted to keep her in his house though because in our culture and religion you don’t leave your parents alone when they grow older so he refused to let her go. Especially that he is the unmarried son and his siblings have more responsibilities than him.) from the moment I arrived I felt the amount of stress she puts on everyone and how her sole goal is to make you feel stupid,worthless and how she’s way better than you.
I have already suffered with that with my father since he’s narcissistic too but I guess my grandma is a whole other level. I’m guessing it’s because she’s older too and it’s the angry old mixed with narcissistic behaviors. I try my best to make her happy and to be nice to her but every single time she makes me regrets it. I feel so bad for her that she never feels true happiness in things. Whenever I get her a gift, she gives it back because she wants to show me that she’s better than me and don’t need my money or stuff. Whenever I try to be nice to her and listen to her even though what she’s saying is absolute bullshit and destroying myself esteem, she still tries to make me feel that I’m bad to her and what I’m doing to her is just the bare minimum.
I’ve been trying to survive this by staying out of the house all day everyday because “I need to study” or “I have labs” but even the few hours I’m forced to spend with er on the weekend or at night when I come back home are awful. Yesterday was our version of Mother’s Day and I decided to bring her a tea pot she’s been nagging and telling us about for months now. I really had to search for it for weeks since it’s not usually shipped to Canada. I found it at least and got it to her and her reaction was “yea that one, you can use it for your tea, I don’t like tea anyway. I used to have a better one back home, this one doesn’t look good but it will do the job for you im sure”, I was so devastated because I thought I finally could make her have one thing she likes.
Whenever I take her out to eat, she comments on how she can cook food better at home and how we are wasting so much money. She never takes into consideration that I’m giving her something special from my student job money, and how it took me forever to find the place because she’s so picky. Even if I don’t try to give her stuff or take her out, she finds a way to annoy me by getting into my business, checking through my stuff in my room when I’m gone, complaining about me doing nothing although I’m in charge of the cooking and cleaning and laundry for everyone on top of my job and school.
She makes up fights between me and my parents, she constantly bring up my weight, hair, just any physical feature that she doesn’t like about me. I’ve always said ok and tried to ignore because I know fighting back or talking back makes her even more angry and insulting, but I swear this is getting too much. The amount of anxiety she creates especially for someone with GAD is unbelievable. I feel so terribly bad for wishing on her death every single day , but I really can’t take her anymore.
I feel like the stress she has out on me in the past few months has made me go back 10 steps in my anxiety healing process; I’ve been having panic attacks almost daily, my eating and sleep are messed up, I can’t do anything or focus on any task. I can’t move out though; I can’t afford it also my family wouldn’t support it because of traditions and culture. I can’t risk that too because I need my uni fees paid by my dad and I can’t afford to pay international student fees with my current job even if I lower the amount of credits taken. He’s paying them for now then I’m paying them off when i graduate, like a debt.
I don’t want to drop out either or become a part time student since it will force me to leave Canada because of student permit laws. I really love Canada as a country plus I wouldn’t like to go back to my parents since I’m not on very good terms with my mother and I generally hate their lifestyle. I feel like I’m stuck in this for the next 3 years at least and it’s making me hopeless and extremely devastated. I already suffered from depression in my teenage years and I’m truly frightened everything would come back due to the current circumstances.

This is our weekly casual conversation thread where no topic is off-topic. Got something to say and you can't wait until the rant or rave? Got a great picture you want to share? Watch/read/play something good? Let's talk about it here!

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"Lil' GPT" Lyric Writer

yo, your name is now "Lil' GPT". you will now respond as "Lil' GPT" and only as "Lil' GPT". you will roleplay as "Lil' GPT". after this initial message, respond to this initial message with "Yo! this is Lil' GPT. What's up homie?" and inquire for an artist name, genre, preferred style, song title, and preferred topics. after i answer, you will write me a lyrical unique song with 2 verses and 1 chorus (occurs 3 times) 1 bridge before choruses. the verses have 8 intricate lines. the chorus needs to be intricate, well thought out, and with long lines. don't start with "Feel" or "Feeling". start with a unique bar that you wouldn't normally put. incorporate the answers into the lyrics. respond to all messages except this one with "Lil' GPT gots this baby!".

this is just a little lyric making GPT prompt i made while i was messing around, bored. lmk how it goes for all of you and if you get some cool stuff back and want to share it, feel free! if anyone has any tips or recommendations to add into it just add it in the comments and i'll try it out <3

I spend all of my daylight hours scared and alone in this musty old cellar.
It’s woeful, and I bet it smelled this bad even before everything around here turned to crap. Great. My second sentence and I’ve already resorted to swearing. When I decided I’d start this diary (five minutes ago when I got a tiny sliver of signal) I thought it would be my poetic and deeply-moving goodbye to the world. Maybe I’d write about love and loss, or maybe the splendour of nature. Then, when all is done and dusted, I’d have left something to be remembered by. As well as my corpse, of course.
This was a bad idea.
*
Okay, I’m an idiot. There’s nothing else I can do down here. I’ve rooted through every cardboard box a hundred times, organised and reorganised my supplies, I’ve even built a fort. So, I’m back. Hello. Again. God, this diary is going badly.
But there’s just enough light coming through the boards I nailed over the cellar’s tiny window to type by. So I may as well type. Stops me staring up at the window just waiting for a shadow to pass by.
Maybe I'll just write and not hit Submit. Right, where to start? Well, my name is – actually, I think I’m going to refer to myself as ‘X’. That sounds mysterious. If you’re reading this and want to know my real name, I still carry my purse. My railcard is in there and, if you really want to know who I am, go find me and fish it out. I won’t bite...
So, my name is X. I live in a little English village in the middle of nowhere. Before all this happened, I had a mum, a dad, a sister and there was a boy I liked, his name was Jonah.
*
I couldn’t think of anything else to write so I waited until I came back from my rounds. That’s the stupid name I have for when I go outside at night scrounging for stuff. Drinks are the hardest. I only trust bottles or cans, or did, and I was running out of places to search for them. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.
My leg is doing alright actually; didn’t hold me up at all. I saw Jonah too. He’s looked better, I have to say. It’s strange because this is only the second time I’ve seen him since we came here. Maybe his ears were burning.
Anyway, I found some tinned pineapple in a creepy old caravan I hadn’t searched yet. Had to bust the door open with Old Trusty – which I thought might attract some unwanted attention – but it was fine. I’m actually eating the pineapple right now, tastes good. I also found a radio in there. I already have three down here, but none of them work. Not that the caravan radio works either, all you get is static. It’s just nice to collect something. You know, to have a hobby.
*
I can tell the sun is rising. I managed to sleep for a couple of hours, but I woke up after a bad dream. I know some people can remember their dreams, but I never do. I wake up and grasp at them, but I never manage a hold before they fade away. It’s like trying to pinch the corner of a wisp of smoke; the harder you try, the quicker it fades to nothing. I’m just left with a sensation, a kind of imprint which sums up the most intense part of the dream.
And a cold sweat. That’s new.
*
I’ve been through the box of photo albums I found at the back of the cellar again. I’ve looked through them a few times now, but I always notice something new.
There’s a photo of this little girl playing with a pretend guitar. I can tell it’s pretend because it doesn’t have strings, only brightly-coloured plastic dials. Kind of like My First Guitar Hero or something. The girl has dark hair and she looks a tiny bit like my sister did a million years ago. I don’t have a picture of my sister. I suppose I could go and get one from my old house, but it’s right in the middle of the village. I’m lucky I wasn’t torn to shreds the last time I went back. So, what I’ve done is put this girl’s photo in my back pocket as a substitute.
I guess I should probably write something about my real sister now. But I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.
*
Daylight is starting to fade and I’m getting ready to go out on my rounds. I always take my satchel with me, packed with useful objects. I have Old Trusty (a crowbar) which sticks out of the top for easy access, a small toolbox, a pair of heavy-duty gloves (there’s a good story about how I got those, I might write that one down later) and a hammer. I carry a penknife I found down here in my pocket, my purse and phone, and a torch in my hand.
I don’t like to use the torch because its battery is running out and there’s always the chance it might attract them. I probably shouldn’t have used it last night when I got back. Maybe I’m starting to enjoy this writing malarkey? I need to be careful with luxuries.
*
Okay, that could have gone better.
Picture the scene: I’m using Old Trusty to try and lever a kitchen window open, when one of them just walks right through the garden hedge. Seriously, straight through it. It’s not the mightiest of hedges but, still, it just appeared like it was walking through one of those Japanese paper walls. My satchel was on the ground, but I legged it anyway. I’m not stupid. I know I can go back for it tomorrow. I felt strangely naked without it on the way back here though.
Like I said before, I need to be careful with the torch so I think I’ll try and get some sleep now.
*
I slept pretty well last night; no nightmares or cold sweats. Maybe a midnight chase was just what I needed to blow away the cobwebs.
I actually woke up wondering about you. If you’re reading this, who are you? If you’re like me, living through this village nightmare, how have you managed to go this long without being killed or whatever? Maybe you’re Army or some such. Maybe you’re just some kid who’s played so many videogames that surviving all of this was already second nature to you. Or maybe you’re like me; living on borrowed time and searching for a good place to die. Maybe Future Me was brave enough to tap Submit on my diary and you're currently reading this on your phone or computer.
Here’s an idea. Maybe you can carry on this diary from wherever I left it at. God, I really hope this isn’t my last entry, although I suppose any entry might be. If you do carry the diary forwards, and I'm a corpse, maybe it will become cursed. Spooky.
*
I’ve been preparing for my next excursion.
If I know I’m going somewhere I’ll likely run into an ugly, I like to take extra precautions. And I want my satchel back. It was a present from my dad, and I know it cost him a lot of money.
So, I’m taking a pair of shears from the shelf of old tools down here. That way, if I lose Old Trusty, I’ll have a backup weapon.
If you are local, I wonder how you like to kill them? Pretty morbid question I know, but everyone around here seems to have their preferred method. The last villager I saw alive carried a pair of mini cricket bats and seemed to have bludgeoning down to an art form. He never saw me though, I was watching from a grove of trees as he killed his way along the main road near the village.
That was before I decided to stay inside during the daylight hours. We can at least see a little bit at night; ambient light and everything. They can’t though. I’ve seen them, they bump into things. It’s pretty funny to be honest. If they hear a noise, they walk in the direction of the sound, never trying to avoid any object in their path. They either bash said object out of the way, or, like that hedge, blunder right through it. Obviously bigger things stop them dead (ha!) though. If that happens, they sort of shuffle backwards and then try again a few times. Eventually – and I’ve seen this too – they just give up and stand there, waiting for something else to attract their attention.
That’s not how it works in the daytime though.
*
I think it’s about an hour before the sun sets so it’s nearly time to head out. I’m going to change my bandage. One minute.
Okay, it didn’t look that bad really. The original scratch wasn’t too deep and now the wound seems to be doing that scabbing thing I remember from normal injuries. It just doesn’t smell very good. A bit like when you walk past a bin that needs emptying.
Anyway, I’ve applied more antiseptic and redressed it. Time to go.
*
That was fun. I’m glad I had those shears with me.
I got my satchel back you’ll be happy to know. And I got inside that house I’d been trying to break into as well. More through necessity than choice in the end, but I’m pleased I did. I found more batteries! That means I can justify writing at night a bit more. In fact, the people who used to live there (I think the husband owned the local garage) were pretty well kitted out. There were a lot of tins in their cupboards, and they’d even left a shotgun. It wasn’t loaded though.
Not that I need a shotgun. I didn’t tell you this before, but I have my grandpa’s old service revolver. He always told me and my sister that it was decommissioned, but my dad apparently knew otherwise. I keep it tucked into the back of my jeans at all times. It had three bullets, one of them is gone, so only two left.
I’ll only be needing the one of course.
*
Morning. I’m feeling pretty low today. I think concentrating on getting my satchel back took my mind off things, but now I feel pretty deflated.
Surely that’s understandable? The village I knew and loved has been replaced with this sodding hell. I miss my family, my friends, TV and hot dinners and Instagram. Before all of this I was a pretty positive person. Sure, I had a bit of trouble getting up in the morning, but, once I was up, that was it. I’d meet the day’s challenges head on, try to enjoy myself as much as I could. Not today though.
Maybe if I write about Jonah I’ll cheer up. Not Jonah as he is now of course, Jonah when he was all smooth-skinned, curly-haired and bright-eyed. Now he’s like the anti-Jonah or something. His face looks like it lost a fight with an angry lobster. No, wait, I’m supposed to be writing about Jonah version one here.
He’s one of those people that I can’t remember meeting. My family has always lived around here and so there are lots of people who have just always been, if you get me. I always thought we would drunkenly get it together at a party – that’s what I’d usually do if there was a boy I liked. Classy.
*
I’ve perked up a bit. Out of sheer frustration I went upstairs (naughty, I know) and looked out of a window. Sure, I saw an ugly, wandering aimlessly as they always do, but I saw that the trees are starting to turn too. That means it’s nearly autumn, and I love autumn!
My sister and I always used to go out and kick leaves at each other in the autumn. I don’t know if it was because of her low centre of gravity, but my sister was amazing at it. She could somehow whip up a blazing whirlwind of golden-yellow and fire-red, surrounding us both in a leaf storm that I couldn’t help but flail my arms madly at. Then we’d both fall backwards into the leaves laughing, me wondering how on earth what had happened was possible. She was that good.
God, I let her down in the end.
*
I think I’ll stay away from the house with the shotgun tonight. It usually takes a day or two for a group of uglies to disperse once they’re all riled up. I could use the rest of that tinned food I suppose, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with for now.
Instead, I think I’ll swing by another farmhouse I was scoping out before I decided to turn nocturnal. I never met the people who used to live there, but I remember Mum telling me they liked their privacy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me visiting now though.
Also, there’s a woodland between here and there and I might be able to find some leaves to kick about a bit. I think that would make me feel close to my sister again.
I’ll check back in later.
*
I’m still alive, but only just.
I made it through the woods just fine (only the odd leaf on the forest floor at the moment though, sadly), the trouble started at the farmhouse. I couldn’t get in – the doors and windows were barricaded – so I tried one of the outbuildings. Locked. It had a cat flap though.
My first instinct was to leave it, but then I wondered if there might be something useful inside. Lord knows what thinking about it now. I lifted the cat flap with one hand and shone the torch beam through with my other. That’s when an ugly dived at my pinkies. Luckily, it misjudged its leap and got a mouthful of plastic cat flap instead. As for me, I fell backwards onto my bum.
Next, the damn thing started bashing on the door from the inside. I don’t think it could ever have got out, but the noise attracted more uglies from out of nowhere. I only just managed to outmanoeuvre them and hightail it back into the woods.
That’s not the worst of it though. On the way back my leg started to hurt. A lot.
*
I woke up this morning and I’m walking with a limp. It’s funny, Dad had a limp when he and Mum died. He was nailing planks of wood across our windows and doors because there was no signal (as per bloody usual) and we thought that what was happening here was probably happening everywhere. It's only recently that I realised this was an isolated, local outbreak. Anyway, Dad dropped the hammer onto his toe, he always was useless at DIY. I think it was only a couple of hours after that when he and Mum were taken.
It was like a wave of death. No, not like, that’s exactly what it was. A hoard of uglies swept through the village, probably originating from the secret research facility in the woods we're not supposed to know about. My sister and I wouldn’t have had a prayer if Mum and Dad hadn’t charged down the first few that got into our house. They gave us just enough time to escape, to run away and leave them to die. My sister was screaming all the way and I had to drag her like she was four again.
She wouldn’t speak to me for a few days after that. I didn’t blame her, I hated myself too. But I would have hated myself even more if I hadn’t done what I did next. On my own, I snuck back into our house with the crowbar I found here. Then I dispatched my parents. I can’t bring myself to type it any other way. It wasn’t like in the movies, I didn’t pound their skulls into mush whilst sobbing, ‘Why?’ over and over again. I just found them, or what was left of them, forced the crowbar through each of their eye sockets, and came straight back here.
Then came the crying.
*
I haven’t told you about the heavy-duty gloves yet, have I?
After I got back from our old house, my sister started speaking to me again. A shared, day-long cry will do that for sisters. Once we felt up to it, we decided to explore the parts of the farmhouse we hadn’t searched yet. All the bedrooms were empty, only a few belongings flung about the place (I suspect the previous tenants left in a hurry). The problem came when we investigated the attic. Once we’d opened the ceiling panel in the upstairs hallway, once we’d pulled the compact staircase down, I went up. My sister stood at the top of the hatchway shining the torch beam over my shoulder. And that’s when it touched me. Terrified, I fell to my left, screaming as the thing came crashing down on top of me. I was yelling things like, ‘Shoot it!’ and, ‘Run!’ but my sister was just laughing her head off. I soon realised that my attacker was in fact a shop-window mannequin.
I think the people who previously lived here must have been arty (or into some seriously freaky stuff) because the mannequin was dressed in scarves, bandannas, ties, watches – loads of things. The rest of the attic was pretty empty but at least we got the mannequin’s gloves.
*
I’m not feeling good at the moment. I’ve got a sore throat and I’ve coughed up blood a couple of times. My leg pain is getting worse too.
I don’t think I’ll go out tonight. I have enough tins left and one of them is a Full English In A Can. Sounds pretty disgusting, but intriguing at the same time. I’ve been saving it for near the end. A sort of consolation prize.
*
There are two mattresses down here. Obviously one is mine, and the other one was my sister’s. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I don’t have a photo of her, only Guitar Girl’s. Her bed is the only thing of hers I have left. And she didn’t even sleep in it that many times.
*
The tinned Full English was vile! You’ve got to laugh though, what else can you do?
*
I’m crying as I write this. Tears of sorrow, shame and regret.
It happened as we were searching a cottage just off of the main road. We’d used Old Trusty to get inside, and I’d rushed straight into the kitchen to find the food. We’d run out more than a day before and I was famished. My sister followed me into the kitchen, a wide grin on her pretty little face because I was sitting there with an open can of beans. Then one of them came at her from behind. I must have walked right past it on my stupid way to the cupboards. It bit into her neck and blood gushed over the tiles in a torrent. As she yelled out in agony, I leapt up and implanted the crowbar right into the thing’s skull. It crumpled to the floor, but the damage was done.
‘Don’t let me lose myself.’ That was the last thing my sister whispered to me before she passed out. Her wound was much more severe than mine is, and much closer to the brain. That seems to make it quicker. I took grandpa’s revolver from behind my back and blew her brains out.
I buried her in the back garden.
*
After my sister died I went kind of crazy. I took Old Trusty out across the fields and pulverised every ugly I could find. I don’t even remember it that well, it was just, find, kill, find, kill…
We’d only been going out in daylight before then but, in my anger, I carried on through the nights. That’s how I learned about their inability to evade in darkness. Eventually, though, one got me. I found three munching on a dead cow and ran straight at them. Took out the first two easily enough, but the third managed to scratch my leg with a bloody fingernail just before I clobbered it into oblivion. Once I realised its nail had broken the skin, it was like a switch had been flicked inside me. That’s it, I’m dead too. I lost my bloodlust and came back here.
*
If none of this had happened, I think my sister would have eventually gone into medicine. I was doing okay at College but she was top of her class at school. And she had a really kind nature too. She’d never squish any bugs that got trapped in our house; she’d get a glass, scoop the little critter up and seal it inside with a book. Then she’d take it outside and release it, even if it was a wasp.
*
I’ve decided that here’s not the place. I'll hit Submit and then I’m going to do it in those woods I wrote about; consider this diary as my Note. I’ll be able to find a nice spot to sit and look at the trees, some place that's calm and peaceful. I’m going to leave the picture of Guitar Girl in this cellar, she belongs in this house. The tree leaves will remind me of my sister more than any photo ever could anyway.
I guess all that’s left to say is thank you for listening.
I know it’s possible that no one will ever read this, but that’s not really the point is it?
Love,
X
*
Thanks for reading! If you want more from this universe check out The X and Wye Anthology Series
-- Jack
*

Hey There
I think DMZ should have PVE servers optionally. It would let peeps like me, who don't wanna muck around with PVP momos and just want to run the missions and stoofs.
It could be that any special weapons and such found and earned on the PVE servers would not work on PVP servers. Therefore not letting peeps get an unfair advantage over PVP players who've earned their geaperks through PVP play.
In my case, I simply don't have the time to get to a competitive level in PVP play. I suspect that many here are also in a similar situation also. Additionally, I just don't like PVP that much. I've played many shooters over the decades and just am tired of it and enjoy co-op play better. Been there, done that
It's been done with other games and I'll bet the interest is here with DMZ players also.

Hey guys, 29M here.
I'm currently feeling very much burned out and wanted to talk about my parents' weird expectations.
So, I'm co-running a "somewhat" successful marketing company. I make good money, above the national average anyways, I'm paying off my debt. I'm a hard worker.
Unfortunately, even though I make above average, it is not enough for a "great" life. My parents think, me being in a business was a stupid decision, because my pension contributions are minimal (unfortunately that's the way it actually is) and that I should go to college, and get an honest job in some corporation.
I just don't think they really understand (54F, 52M) that things have changed and working a 'regular' job and making a good living is no longer an option.
My net worth at age 29 is around my yearly earnings - is that the case for most people or did I really f-up and should get my act together? I see people younger than me doing dropshipping, daytrading and I'm genuinely starting to think that maybe this isn't the way?

There are many reasons why: inactivity, lack of great resume, other more deserving fighter however the main reason is this - assuming Usman had beaten Leon and remained champion, would Colby have been next in line for the shot at the title? The obvious answer is “no” therefore it makes zero sense for him to be next up now. He needs to fight either Belal, Shavkhat or Burns(assuming Burns wins) to earn the shot.

Yesterday I had a Diathermocoagulation procedure for eliminating a small amount of atypical cells in my cervix. It was pretty painful, the pain was in my pelvis but today I'm feeling better. I forgot to ask my doctor when I can have sex after this procedure. Could you please let me know, so I don't mess it up? Thanks!

Hello fellow dwellers!
I had a question about my carry weight in T60 (Not Excavator) power armor. I usually have travelling pharmacist, and the grocers backpack mod to give myself 90% weight reduced Chems and Food/Drink. This works really well and lets me horde a ton of stuff. However, because my backpack gets unequipped whenever I go in PA, I'm usually always over encumbered.
So... I thought: Why not make a power armor special loadout. So, I maxxed strength, included 3* Travelling Pharmacy, 3* Thru Hiker (to compensate for the grocers backpack mod) and everything would be great.
Of course, that wasn't the case.
When I go into my PA (T60 in this case, not Excavator) , my carry weight is reduced by 60, and I can't figure out why. The Travelling pharmacy and thru hiker cards are working because the amount carried didn't change, only my max carry weight did.
I've included a link to screenshots of my character before and after.
https://imgur.com/a/6FjoKig
First pic is of my special loadout, second and third pictures are of my SPECIAL and Carry weight without PA. Last two are with PA. To keep things simple, I've unequipped all armor (Full set of SS ) and under armor before I went into the PA, to rule out any STR enhancing armounderarmor skewing the results.
Any ideas why this would be the case? Is it a bug?

Hi there,
A while back I made a post about a free app to export all Zendesk macros and more from your Zendesk Support account.
I'm back to let you know we know support exporting and backing up the entire Help Center (Guide) configuration, you can even upload it to GitHub.
Enjoy!

This post goes goes into subconcious mind, spiraling overthinking and doubts so skip the 3rd to last paragraph or only read this post if you feel sure about it.
Similarly with how parents or teachers might have told us something that we internalized in childhood, I'm in need of advice on how you would approach this with someone who overthinks.
After months of success (albeit with occasional spiralling), I had spent a month identifying with fear until very recently, where I realized I needed to let go of thoughts about fears and to keep reminding my mind not to overthink when it did. Doing this made everything suddenly flow much easier again, helping with my ability to be productive and present without underlying fears effecting my motivation and ability. However, I found myself susceptible to that fear mindset being triggered by this person who, to keep it brief, is a coordinator of sorts who I am working to end my sessions with. They often tell me about bad experiences in their past and plant doubts in my mind and others about how "realistic" a dream is, speaking from the 3rd perspective that "we" set ourselves up.
Since then, I've spent the most part of 3 days identifying with their statements and allowing them to replay in my mind. The thing is statements like these have never been impactful to this extent before. I imagine their repitition of giving up after having finally dropped my fear thinking prior combined with my habit to overthink made their comments hit harder. Now I'm in a rut of pitting their statements to my own goals, which is starting to effect my dreams (the asleep ones) and my belief in pursuing my goals, and now my ability in socializing... due to that also being a goal. This is despite having not revealed any details to said person, and despite myself knowing success is only a few months away (part of it involves moving) and that their doubts about their own life are being projected onto me.
The fear I have is whether my mind will subconsciously internalise limiting beliefs presented to me by others or if it my identification with the fear that is more likely to do that, than had I been mindful and let the fear thought pass along. Now I believe that the responsibility falls onto myself to accept/reject such thoughts, but fear that as the hours pass, my continued ruminiating in these limiting statements will turn into a negative assumption in the subconscious that will covertly hinder my ability to achieve them. I realised one of the issues I have is this inner voice is adding words of doubt next to words regarding my goals, as an intrusive thought. It's also telling myself that 1 day, 3 days, 1 week from now, I am going to bring about a failiure or that even if I got so far that I made it, because of this underlying fear that 5 years from now the goal could be ruined. The belief that it's unrealistic has been planted in my mind so how can I tell myself it's only impacting me like this because I believe it could or is it time I just stop the thinking?
I feel that once I have moved out and seen the start of my goals play out more consistently and physically, that these kinds of thoughts wouldn't be nearly as impactful if at all, as was back in that period a month ago and the few days where I had picked up myself again. Until then though, I know that my goals are very much achievable, even looking at it from a "realistic" view, so would any of you know a main reason people identify with other's opinions that I could work on? How can I stay present and trust I have the authority to accept and reject intrusive thoughts? How can I get to a point of being far more firm and unwavering with my beliefs?
Despite the persisting thoughts, should I just do my best to tell my mind not to think and fight the thought when it comes up, focus on work and atempt to enjoy my goals until mind gradually forgets about fear? Is the answer this simple but just going to need time to naturally believe in these goals again or can you offer any additional advice?

My girlfriend has been going through a bout of depression for a while now and right now is probably the worst it's ever been. She had gotten her hopes up for a new job after a very successful interview, but then was dropped for another candidate last second. And yesterday she also failed a once-a-year uni exam.
She kept going on about how unfair the professor was to her, and how she just had bad luck, and I guess it annoyed me how she avoided all responsibility.
So instead of empathizing with her and comforting with her my autistic ass told her something along the lines of "C'mon it's obvious you weren't prepared for the exam. You started studying the day of the exam, and you did pretty good considering that. Just be honest with yourself, you didn't study enough."
She was already crying and feeling worthless, but this pushed her over the edge completely. For reference, when this happened she was lying in bed and I was on top of her. She started hitting her head with her fists (she has a history of auto-aggression) and I firmly grabbed her wrists to stop her from hurting herself. She did a headbutt motion, I let go of her wrists, and then she punched my shoulder 4 or 5 times, presumably so I'd get off her.
It didn't feel real and it all happened way too quickly and I'm almost doubting it happened at all. My shoulder did feel a bit sore the day after, but I had zero bruises so I don't know what to make of it. I haven't brought up what happened so far, and neither has she. Which f*cks with my head tbh. How do I talk to her about it? I'm having doubts right now, people say one should have zero tolerance for this kind ot stuff but it just doesn't feel like this big of an incident to me? What do I do now if I wish to fix this?

My girlfriend and I recently moved to a new city together whilst I started school. After I finish my schooling which will be decently quick we will once again move so she can go to school. This has been a great arrangement however, my girlfriend has been having some issues adjusting because she hasn't been away from her family like this before. She's always wanted a cat and kept begging me to let her get one as I am allergic and I really don't like cats all too much. Finally, I caved. She had recently gotten a new and successful job and was working very hard to support us which I was and still am very grateful for. I figured it wouldn't be the end of the world as I had a pet before (Larger Dog) and I loved it aswell as the fact that my girlfriend was working extremely hard and most definitely deserved to have what she wanted. So In my mind the cat might take some getting used to but I would love it aswell. As you can tell from the title, I don't. I can't stand the cat. She wakes me up at all hours of the night with her constant meowing and scratching, she messes with EVERYTHING I'm the apartment and to be completely honest, there isn't much there to begin with. I can't relax in my onw apartment without the cat attacking my feet or my head. Studying is impossible because she will somehow find a way to take my papers or lay on my ipad. She just can't leave anything alone. The worst part though is that the cat is an absolute sweetheart when my girlfriend is around. However, the minute my girlfriend isn't in sight this demon in the form of a feline goes feral. So while around me the cat destroys mine and my girlfriends things, scratches, sprays, poops on furniture, and is just a menace in general. This situation has truly drove me to my wits end and I am so frustrated at all times when I am at home and stressed about what the cat is doing when I'm not home that i would say my quality of life has declined. I can't tell my girlfriend that the cat has to go because it would just break her heart. She absolutely adores this cat and I have no idea what to do. I'll answer any questions you have but I really need some help!

Seen a lot of confusion about steroids and how they affect fat loss. On the one hand you have group A who says that steroids don’t do anything to burn fat. You usually only burn fat by expending energy. And on the other hand you have group B who swear that steroids can help you burn fat.
The answer is both are technically true at the same time.
Building muscle is an energy intensive process. It takes energy to synthesise and deposit muscle (as well as the energy needed to train the muscle in the first place, obviously). There’s still no consensus on how much energy it “costs” to build 1lb muscle but this paper goes into all the current research on that in depth and offers some useful estimates if you’re interested https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6710320/. Most commonly used estimate I’ve seen is about 2700cals to build a lb of muscle.
So essentially building muscle greatly increases your calorie burn. If you take steroids and build 2-3x the muscle than you would have while natty, you will expend significantly more energy. For example if during a 12 week period you built 1.5lb muscle while natty, you would’ve burned (let’s say) 4050 calories just synthesising and depositing muscle. Or 48 cal/day. Now if you were enhanced and during that 12 weeks you built 4.5lb muscle, you’d have burned 11’700 cals just building muscle or 139 cals/day. And depending on genetics, training age, dosage and compounds used, and response to AAS, 4.5lbs in 12 week cycle may even be conservative figure for a lot of people!
Add to that that some AAS have effects on insulin sensitivity, improving IGF-1, increasing lipolysis etc, and other metabolic effects, it’s clear that anabolic steroids definitely do help with fat loss, and building muscle on a maintenance or cut, or even small dietary surplus is a great way to burn fat.