Like two years ago I met this guy which I'll just call Ray. I was immediately interested in him. He's a nice guy and he's well educated too plus he's got a great ass. He's every you could want in a man. I didn't get his number the first time around so I didn't speak to him for a while after that.

We mat a few times and to cut a long story we went on a date back in September. He hasn't really spoken to me since then and it really grates on me. I don't want to lose him now that I've almost got him. He's all I can think about, not only is he a lovely guy but he's hot AF as well. Seriously, why can't I just sex with that attractive for once? I try to think of other things but all I can think about is sex with him.

It drives me insane. Why is it so hard to find men like Ray? I work so hard for him if only he knew.

I need to get this off my chest. School bus came early, and I was not there to get my child as the bus is usually late. There were vehicles which stopped for the bus, which waited for under 1 minute, then just passed the school bus all one after the other while bus was flashing and stop sign was out.

When I got my child, the bus driver was smiling and didn't say a thing about vehicles passing it. I'm sure they are used to it.

Nothing can be done. I'm just venting. I found out because a witness told me, so I checked the camera to see what happened.

So annoyed people are so impatient that they can't stop for a school bus beyond 10 seconds.

i don't want to fgeel anything. i'm in so much physical discomfort right now becaouse i'm feeling so anxious and nervous abouto the fact that i should be studing but all this feelings are just making it impossible. i want to be so high right now just so i could stop feeling anything. i'm scratching the back of my head so much that i'm hurting myself and i'd want to punch myself in the face or bite my hands I hate that i can't stop this feeling. i only i could start studing than i'd be okay but no, because it's just a studid fucking circle that i am unable to break and it makes everything awful

If a white person was So Astonished and Shocked that a black person accomplished something almost as good as a white person would, they'd be called racist. But black people can literally treat themselves and their children that way and it's empowerment.

A white person could graduate high school with 90s and 100s in every class and no one cares. They get a high five and a $20 TGI Fridays gift card. A black person can graduate high school with 60s in every class and they're the second coming of God.

Everyone outside the school and the goddamn country needs to know about this excellent black person who managed to actually get 60s and pass! Despite being black! So inspirational! It's so smart for a black person! If a black person could do it, what's your excuse?

But I'm the problem for absolutely hating that. I'm an asshole for being conveniently missing during graduation. I'm racist for wanting equality. Why can't I get a high five and a gift card? Why can't I just graduate and have nobody care like the normal people?

It's not just graduating, but literally everything. Having a hobby. Using a phone. Literally just existing as a black person is sooooo inspirational. A white person can draw hyper realistic portraits, but a black person's crude scribbling is broadcast to the world as talent. A black person being interested in a hobby is so inspirational they need to be interviewed and broadcast to everyone, but a white person actually doing the hobby doesn't matter. They're normal. But if I call this out, I'm the problem. I have internalized racism. I'm the asshole for quitting all my hobbies.

Then there's that stupid puzzle piece rainbow infinity sign disorder. Everything anyone with that shit does is solely because of that shit and nothing else. Even using fediverse websites is solely the decision of some stupid disorder. No one could possibly want to get away from the subtle ads and toxicity. It must be a stupid disorder.

Knowing ANYTHING is the result of that stupid disorder making you So Smart, but not knowing something is the result of that stupid disorder making you stupid. A child being tech savvy is not the result of computers being easy enough for a child, it's the result of a stupid disorder making the child smart. That stupid disorder made someone have a hobby that anyone else would do for fun.

That stupid disorder causes every last thing a human being experiences, according to literally everyone in the world except me. It's like you all want to be seen as corpses animated by that stupid disorder.

I hate being the only human who actually wants to be a human being. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of changing my name and phone number and still being found by people who only see me as the stupid disorder I never fucking had and a stupid skin color. I wish I was just born white or dead, I'm sick of this society.

I should have known better.

A little over a year ago, I was posting comments in a wrestling sub of all places, when a mod had banned me insisting I was trolling.

I was not.

What I should have done, is mute the sub and just walk away. But I appealed my ban to not avail, and the mod muted me for 30 days. Being someone who felt this was egregious, I created an alt to message the mods directly. Instantly, the mod reported me for ban evasion.

And since then, I have been oscillating between alt accounts that have a short shelf life before their algorithms catch it.

11 years, up in smoke, all thanks to a power tripping moderator on a professional wrestling sub.

I’ve been going through so much this past year, and Reddit was my outlet for so long. Nothing against this platform at all, but I could expect responses in minutes versus potential days.

I hate that Reddit won’t even listen, and that how quickly ones internet presence can be erased.

Hopefully more and more people come here, so that I can actually engage in conversation.

I have been spending the holidays with my fiance's family. All of them are die hard trump supporters. This town they live in, are all die hard trump supporters.

We went out to a restaurant with my fiance's parents and their friends. When it came time to pay their friends whipped out their cards and showed the table. Each card had a sticker delicately placed, the content of the stickers were of donald trump in many different contexts. Djt as a dollar bill, djt wearing a fake mustache at his mugshot, djt assasination attempt, etc. I was absolutely appalled. Then the waiter came over and I was expecting to see him perturbed as well. Nope. He wanted one and asked if they had anymore. They then gave him one and helped him put it on. In the middle of his shift.

Obviously trump is fucking disgusting in more ways than one. What baffles me is how you can flagrantly carry around a proven rapist in your wallet when you are a woman, not just a woman but a woman of color. Which the friend waving this dipshit around and making the stickers is.

I mean this man has literally talked about immigrants "poisoning the blood of this nation". These are actual fucking people he talks about and demonizes. People with families, lives, and friends. All that care just gets thrown out the window with these people.

I hate living in trump country, because I feel like I am losing my mind when everyone around me is flaunting him like their own son who graduated as validictorian. As if these people are part of his club. When he is one of the most disgusting individuals I have had the displeasure of hearing about for over 8 years going on 12 now. How can you be so ignorant? Every passing day in this state I understand more and more how Hitler gripped the minds of the masses and came into power so easily. People are so fucking stupid.

Please for my sanity, I need to talk to people who know this monster for who he truly is. How do you cope being in a similar situation? How do you speak up?

I appreciate that people have taken time to think what I would like and then acted on that, but it's been a huge swing and a miss.

Out of the 7 presents, 5 were clothing items, 1 was something my wife wanted (not me), and the last was actually something I had been mentioning I had wanted for a while, so that was a silver lining.

When it comes to clothing and fashion, that is not me. I'd rather wear a £10 t-shirt from some high street chain, than whatever emperor's new clothes rubbish is being pushed by the designer brands. On top of that, I have a young child, so it's not uncommon for there to be food, spit, mess etc. on me at a given time. I don't want to get that on my nice clothes, so I just wear old sports t-shirts most of the time.

Maybe they're telling me I should change my style? But I'm happy with my style, I dress for comfort and practicality over looks. I don't care what strangers on the street think of how I dress.

On top of that, 1 of the clothing items was smart, suit-like, work trousers... I'm in the office maybe once a week, and even then I normally wear smart casual attire, nice jeans, chinos, etc.

Then there's the joint present my wife and I got. I appreciate it was expensive, but it's something my wife has been raving about since she saw it, and I don't really have any interest in it. At least she'll be happy I suppose.

What I think disappoints me the most is I saw all the effort my wife and I were putting in for my family members, coming up with ideas based on their interests and things they may not think about, so I was excited for her presents for me expecting a similar level of thought, but it was just more clothes; some nice printed t-shirts, but I'm not going to wear them much, due to the aforementioned messy nature of having a young child.

I hope I managed to hide my disappointment. The only saving grace was the fact I was cooking Christmas dinner at the same time, so I could go out to the kitchen and "check on the veg" to compose myself and come back.

So short background. I'm a self taught web developer who lucked into working at a friend's startup with practically no skills and only a couple basic CRUD to do style apps under my belt. I learned a lot, but never touched DSA. Did this for a couple years. Startup failed to get its last round of funding, and yep, I'm outta work.

My cousin works as a data engineer in a city a couple hundred miles north of me and wants me to get a software job so I can move up there and out of my parents place.

Most of the devs I've met from there are supportive of my journey, but emphasize I need to grind Leetcode. Only been doing that a couple weeks now.

My cousin called me and set up a call with a startup founder. I talked with him this morning and was very honest about my skills. He was also honest and said he needed somebody pretty comfortable with DSA as the application they work on is heavy utilizing ML.

He asked if I'd still like to do a Technical Interview and of course I said yes, making sure to emphasize I was probably going to perform poorly but was very thankful for the opportunity, and that I'd be treating this more as a practice mock interview. The founder was like "Well, at least you know your standing. And perhaps I can give you some pointers about how to proceed."

Super good stuff actually. I mean, obviously it'd be better if I actually was prepared, but I'll take what I can get in terms of feedback.

I'm nervous, I've never coded live and I can barely keep twosum in my head. Fuck. I'm about to waste this guy's time and will probably just look at his problem for two minutes, ask a few constraint or details questions and then just say, "Sorry...I don't even know which data structure to implement."

Anyways, I hate to be so defeatist about it, but I just know I haven't prepared enough. Oh well. Thanks for any sympathetic responses in advance.

While working today I was listening to this video about the A3000 - https://youtu.be/wELAhgbqNzc

Where amongst different architectures they cover Conqueror - A third person tank shooter.

The big thing about this old tank game is anything outside your field of view is just black. It's very clear how far you can see.

A modern game will just lie to you with pretty backgrounds, but when you get closer suddenly trees, buildings, boxes will POP IN. (including tanks!)

I much prefer the engine only render what it can verify as accurate and complete, I like the circle of vision and blackness outside of that. This isn't a big problem for single player games, but for multiplayer games I think its a huge tradeoff of visual prettiness vs accurate knowledge.

Please tell me if I'm the asshole here. But holy crap. I know mod's get a bad ~~wrap~~ rap but wow do the mods seem WAY more petty and petulant here.

I really don't feel like existing anymore. I've been dealing with suicidal thoughts for years now. I used to be 50%50 on killing myself. One hand it's such a liberating thought. If I died then it will all be over and all my problems or go away but on the other hand I what if something good happens to me in the future? or what about all the other things I already enjoy?.

Sometimes I think things can get better but other times I think, how? I feel like I wasn't designed for life. Life is a game that I'm losing no matter what. A game didn't even choose to play btw. I feel beat down all I want to get myself a big box of pizza, a bunch of booze and overdose on cocaine.

I'm 34, and i feel hopeless, ive been in relationships that don't work out and i end up hurting myself, and i find it really hard to find someone who likes the same things as me, and i blame it on my socioeconomic status and my looks. I try to find somewhere to put the blame, but it's obvious that it's me.

My stutter is driving me insane. Having normal conversations with people that made 100000 times harder and more awkward. It's embarrassing as hell and I'm sick of it.

Conversations with most people I have daily are difficult because it's hard to keep people listening for that long and it's very awkward to talk to someone the first time as they expect me to have a stutter. It's so isolating. Ever since I was a kid everyone just to make fun of me for it. I wish I could talk like everyone else.

I've lost so many opportunities to my stutter just think about it. I'll never a telemarketer, (not really a lost) I'll never be a voice actor, and how many other jobs require you to speak to others?

The election, the CEO murder, etc.

And when I tried to say something about it, I get downvoted, and get replies that I am a bootlicker or something etc.

Oh yeah, also, Lemmy discussion is very one-sided and lacks nuance.

I have more things to say, but I prefer sleeping. That's all

Or, all too typical overthinking socializing, maybe? Unlike some other posts' OPs feeling sort of burnt out or kind of numb, which I have those days too, I'm more sort of ambivalent.

Much of the time I'm content to myself, buuut I recognize I have to put myself out there and work with others to do anything more meaningful. However, working with others is...Working with others, with all those ups and downs, and I'm torn in how to navigate all that.

Fortunately and unfortunately, almost everyone's in this situation and there's pretty much the whole of history to make it clear everyone's been making it up as they go and doing what works for them. That's not exactly the most helpful though, so I'm still left going, "what the fuck?"

I dunno what I'm expecting from this, just adding to the pile of internet posts of, "uhhhhhhhh???"

Topics of generational abuse, or intergenerational abuse, have suddenly become relevant in my life. I have a parent I barely know and was criticizing one day, and I was getting all kinds of excuses which mainly boiled down to either "appeal to authority", "appeal to psychology", or "not my problem". At one point, I ragequit the conversation after making sure I had made a statement. I contacted my sister who knew all my relatives better than I had and dropped a brief comment along the lines of "I wonder why they are like this" and she responded with a "you're not being tolerant enough, they have generational abuse, cut everyone some slack". So maybe I've been influenced the wrong way when I say intergenerational abuse as a phenomenon or a concept sounds like the biggest load of BS I've ever heard.

I'm also into learning about a lot of culty topics, and recently I watched a video about one of those televangelists you see on TV that claim you can pray your stigmatized relationship orientations away, and the video was chronicling his life and how he grew up in an environment that would always put him down for his lamentations towards many of those practices, and it mentioned he became the monster he feared growing up. Genuine question here, how DOES someone become the monster they fear? What kind of free will does someone have to lack to inherit someone's monstrosity? Even when someone says it simply, such as when they say "that's just how I was raised", that raises a huge red flag, because if you don't like how you were treated/raised, why the heck are you (even consciously) imitating it?

In general, in a world where we expect free will to be valued and where that "bad times make good people" meme still floats around, how are people so unquestioning enough of their bad experiences that they consciously use the lack of their questioning of something they never liked as an excuse to do that very thing onto others?

My dad was awesome. But he also wasn’t. It’s painful to hear words from coworkers who received things from him that he never gave me. But still, he gave me a lot. He wasn’t perfect. But neither am I. I mourn him leaving me so early. I mourn the things he never gave me and never would have given me. I needed to get this off my chest.

Sometimes I think about the person I am and think to myself, why? Why can't I just be like everyone else? I hate the person I am. Why am I so different to everyone else?

I've been thinking a lot about god recently. Buddha, Allah and Christ If there is one and why would he design me the way he did? Sometimes I feel like I was never made for this world. I have so many things wrong with me I feel like I'm broken. I have two personality disorders, an intellectual disability and speech impediments. Why would a god make me like this? I can't fit in my existence is socially unacceptable. I made a thread the other day asking the question of why NPD is so stigmatized and the comments where so hateful. They where saying I'm manipulative, dangerous and abusive just I have a mental health problem that is completely beyond my control. Non of these idiots have ever met me or know what I'm like yet were saying all these awful things about me. God knows what your average person believes. I have friends and family I love but I'm worried about how they would react if they found out. Why can't people see beyond my diagnosis and understand that I'm a person like anyone else who has problems. I'm seeing this guy. I known about him for a year now and we've been on two dates and planning on more. I love him to bits and want nothing more than to be with him. I've been researching him for a while. Finding out his interests and hobbies so I can make it work. I hope I can make an impression on him so if he does found out he can look beyond all the media hype and love me for who I am.

I just want people to like me. Why would a god give me something so stigmatized? I honestly just wish I had never been born in the first place.

I've always said I'm not afraid of dying alone. It's because I always imagine dying is the thing at the end. A future event. But we're all dying all the time. And being alone at the time of my death isn't the thing to fear it's being alone up to that time. It's being alone now. That's what dying alone is. And this realization makes me afraid.

Every holiday, at whichever house is hosting, there is nothing but a laundry list of DIY tasks and shit that my family just expects help with. I get it, helping family and all that, but I really don't want to buy a plane ticket/driving across the midwest into a different state, use my limited PTO, then what time I have installing lights, a toilet, a storm door, a TV mount, and god knows what else instead of watching movies, sports, reading books, relaxing, boardgames, etc.

There is never a thank you, never respect that my time is going into somebody else's project, not attempt to learn to do it themselves, nothing. Just another errand to run or project to install. It would be one thing if my family members weren't able-bodied or the projects couldn't be done safely solo, but that is not the case. The thank you, if there is one is when I am leaving. My time doesn't feel appreciated, my talents or skills are expected and not respected, and when I'm annoyed by a situation I'm the problem.

There are a million reasons I should be thankful for a family that cares and gets together over the holidays, but I am so incredibly over not being appreciated or respected that I am just angry and bitter instead.

I've seen "let alone" used on Lemmy a good number of times now and, at least when I noticed it, it was always used incorrectly. It's come to a point where I still feel like I'm being gaslit even after looking up examples, just because of the sheer amount of times I've seen it used outright wrong.

What I'm talking about is people switching up the first and last part. In "X, let alone Y" Y is supposed to be the more extreme case, the one that is less likely to happen, or could only happen if X also did first.

The correct usage: "That spaghetti must have been months old. I did not even open the box, let alone eat it."

How I see it used constantly: "That spaghetti must have been months old. I did not eat it, let alone open the box."

Other wrong usage: "Nobody checks out books anymore, let alone visits the library."

Why does this bug me so much? I don't know. One reason I came up with is that it's boring. The "wrong" way the excitement always ramps down with the second sentence, so why even include it?

I am prepared to be shouted down for still somehow being incorrect about this. Do your worst. At least I'll know I keep shifting between dimensions where "let alone" is always used differently or something.

Straight face only means I want to fight. Any kind of smiling is passive aggressive. Looking sad means I want to fight. And of course looking angry means I'm angry with you and specifically you and nothing else. The only way to Fix My Face is to just hide it entirely.

I really hate my ugly ass face for all other reasons, but being unable to order food in person without a cashier thinking I'm angry and willing to fight over the pettiest thing possible is the last straw.

I can't wait until I don't need to work anymore and I can just shut myself away from society and be a white vtuber or something. If I really want fast food then I'll do no contact delivery so the deliverer doesn't assume I'm angry at them for literally doing their job.

Can't even apologize for bumping into someone without them assuming I'm angry that they're in my very important way. Whoops, sorry, excuse me, doesn't matter what I said, it's passive aggressive and I want to fight.

Can't say anything is fine or okay, can't thank anyone, can't wish them a nice day, can't greet them, can't say anything without it being taken aggressively. And not saying anything at all is silent treatment, or passive aggression.

Can't thank anyone for a gift. Every holiday, I was "ungrateful" for everything. My smile was fake and the thank you was sarcastic. I hate holidays, birthdays, and gifts for that reason.

So many black women glorify this as "culture". I might as well be the only black woman who isn't petty, passive aggressive, or overly willing to fight someone. I really wish I had just died at birth since clearly something is wrong with me.

tl;dr NP; hugs

After 10 years of physical disability I'm very cautious about hope. Misplaced, it is very dangerous in the repercussions that can follow.

A corset like support wrapped around my ribs seemed very promising. It was one of my last potential remedies for a life outside of this bedroom prison.

Two weeks ago I lifted something heavy while wearing the corset. I held the item close to my torso, like I always do. I made it halfway across the house before I felt the little odd twinge of a pain; like a sapling tree yielding the most minor of prostrations to the god of pain.

I had asked family for help carrying the thing, but asking is so very demeaning, asking twice felt ready to strip me bare. The alternative was to stop eating, or rather ruin 2 weeks worth of food prep. This situation speaks to the reality of the unimaginable twist to one's mental health in chronic circumstances; the frustration of helplessness is most damning.

Still, I tried to ignore it, to press on. I didn't and couldn't know how much that little twinge would cost me. It broadcast itself in an everpresent noise in my conscious and an infinite supply of sand, grinding through my spine when my head turns left; the rhythm section playing the torso twist. This injury seemed different than most of those that had come before. It was a few ribs higher than ribs 5 and below that were wrapped tightly at the time.

I had felt so good initially with the corset. I even told my family, "if it persists, I'll get a job at the first of the year," –fool that I am to have such hope.

Hope—that terrible precipice; the cliff of danger. Hope is blind, like the naïveté of a child running in the dark of a moonless night. The pain of that hidden precipice edge is so sharp a merciless knife.

I broke some ribs back in April of 2020. It was the best two weeks I have had since 2014; even better than the 3 days I got from a spinal injection. The relief from my ribs breaking sewed the seeds that lead to the corset. There were minor remedies that I tried, but I never broke through to the point of possible hope. When the corset idea struck, I still cautiously approached the precipice terrified of the danger of hope. A fear I learned from countless experiences of hurling myself over the edge into the unknown into that chasm. Like battling through the fog as a human cannonball, determined to find an inevitable surface, refusing to acknowledge the existence of uncrossable oceans.

The very mention of uncrossable oceans is homo sapien heresy for physical health. The heresy of empiricism. It is the second front of the battle; a flanking cavalry cutting down those that fail to cross the void and march on in life; wielding the swords of ignorant assumptions; adding the heavy load of self doubt even in the face of clear evidence.

Four weeks ago I started a project. It was the foundation of a cannon shot with hope. 'Complete it, and I would consider myself capable,' I told myself, 'escapable, to have landed on a weak and marshy shoal of some sort, but arrived on some other side.' I let myself believe in a chance, a chance that this shot is my last; the closure of a chapter; the chance to mourn 8 of 9 of my (cat) lives lost on that fateful February bicycle commute. A chance for a celebration; of remaining life potential; of connections; of love, kindness, empathy, and growth I so desperately need to give someone at the core of my meaningful existence... I could do so much, even now...

Or at least, that is a direction I still have not fired my human cannon of hope. I think the fear of hurling into that void is one I'm unlikely to overcome. Talking to people online, I am far too scared to act. It doesn't matter anyways. No one would ever want to be on this terrible prison island, home to a tribe of headhunter cannibals, eager to make a meal of any genuine person over the bonfire of Christostupidity. I fear discovering a void in this direction more than anything but maybe homelessness I fear more. I have no interest in the primitive cannibals.

I failed at my project; my hope. One of so very very many. For two weeks so far I cannot sleep more than 4-5 hours, and wake up feeling exhausted from the hellish tormenting god of pain. Taking any medication that stops me from laboring and twisting the grinding stone of spinal sand will make the problem worse. I must shut down entirely, lying in bed; watching the movie of life as nothing more than a viewer.

My failure is my professional incompetence. In this case a poorly thought out element in a CAD design.

I did an unthinkable project. I worked on my tool chain I need to use for physical therapy activity. I need to return to that routine now, to battle through this defeat.

It took two weeks for the tears of this message to coalesce; to assess the scope of the battle; to clear the fog of war; to see the shot hit the ocean. The tears of that ocean came this morning in the shower; a random moment on an unexpected day.

I write this message not for the pain of right now; not even in the mourning of hope. I must drag myself out of this void, crippled as I am. I must get back to shore and find a way back up that precipice. This is the real physical pain part. Tonight I will likely be nearly absent of mind entirely, this bike ride will hurt. It is the only empirical bootstrap I've got to get me back to that rock. I feel like there is no way I should ride; no way I could ride when I hurt like this. I know it will hurt like hell and for days. Only with a return to my daily routine will I improve with time and stop this spiral. I also must overcome the fear of the half mile near the start and end of my route. The cars; knowing one street over is where it all happened, where the pain started.

To some mysterious ghost I must believe in; my visage of hope: I still love you enough to not come and find you; to shield you from sharing my hell. I still hope for a day of escape from my prison bed island. To be the person I imagine; to be free; to love you.

Ever have one of those close conversations with some, and walk away thinking “yeh… I’m a good guy” (or whatever pronoun you choose, of course). I just had that happen. It’s a nice, reassuring feeling.

Lost a good friend on Nov 11th, I last talked to them on the Oct 27th.

I've spent about 2000 hours with this friend, over three years, so a new friendship, but a deep and recurring one. Lately our schedules have not meshed (Since about February), so I've only see them sporadically.

The first 12 hours were rough, I'm getting better now, but still misty eyed. Given the frequency of our activities there are many things that just remind me of their absence. There is the aspect of losing someone, and that sadness... but there is something more here, with a 2000 hour mental model of someone else's behavior and reactions, the brain feels a little empty now that whenever anything triggers the 'oh we did this', 'oh they would like this'.... it gets short circuited by... and they are gone now.

I've lost people before, quite a few - sadly, but it never really had this level of impact. I suppose there is a proximity / frequency factor in the impact of a loss.

Rest in Peace - General.