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Heather’s Phases

For as long as I’d known Heather, she was into her beauty treatments. Manicures, pedicures, makeovers, all that stuff. I don’t even know the words for half of them. Whatever they were, they helped her feel better. She’d always had body issues.

When we first started dating, I noticed she wore an inordinate amount of makeup. It wasn’t really my thing, but hell, if it made her happy then who was I to judge? She wasn’t a big fan of eating, either. Whenever we went out, she’d get a salad or a small piece of chicken or fish. Never anything good like burgers or steaks. It was obvious she didn’t want to put any weight on.

We dated for a few years, then I proposed. She said yes. Our wedding was gorgeous, and afterward, we settled into marital bliss.

For a while.

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Family Tree

I was five the first time Grandpa invited me into the basement to see his safe. It was massive. Apparently, the original owners told him the house had to be built around it; there was no way it could’ve been brought in afterward. When I asked him what was inside, he just smiled and said, “maybe I’ll tell you when you’re older.” I remember being frightened by that smile. Everything about my grandfather frightened me, to be honest. I was never able to put a finger on why, but the feeling was real. I dreaded whenever Mom said we were going to visit.

Every time Mom and I were there, his housekeepers would wait on us hand and foot. Even at an early age, I noticed how they seemed intimidated by my grandfather and were quiet, timid, and unwilling to speak unless they were spoken to. It was almost like they’d been traumatized.

When I was 13, I learned an unsettling fact about the housekeepers: they were, in fact, his wives. The grandmother I’d known, who died when I was very young, was merely one of nine. Mom didn’t want to explain the whole thing to me. I could tell she was afraid of him, too. When I asked why she’d chosen to keep in touch with him after Dad died, she told me I needed a male figure in my life. It sounded strange to me, but I never pressed the issue.

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He Went Ahead

My friends and I used to break into old, run-down places and explore. This was back before people were videotaping their own explorations and getting ad-revenue from their YouTube channels. Back before cell phones, even. We’d go wherever we wanted without much concern for the consequences if we were caught. All of us were still under 18 and Kim’s mom was a police officer, so even if we did get in a little trouble, we were fairly confident it’d be taken care of.

Michael was the one who usually made the decisions about where we should go. He suggested we check out an abandoned institution about an hour out of town. A few weeks earlier, after he got out of work, he told me he made a quick trip over there just to see if he could get in. Once he did, he only spent a couple minutes walking around before he got the creeps. Still, he knew it was exactly the type of place we’d always talked about wanting to explore.

It’d been defunct for a few decades by the time we knew about it, and every door was locked and the windows had been boarded up. Well, every window on the first couple floors. A tree, which was probably only a few feet tall when the crews went around locking the place up, had grown tremendously in the following tens of years. It was nearly effortless for the four of us to scale the branches and crawl through the window Michael had broken when he’d done his cursory scouting of the place. A couple minutes later, we were standing in a filthy, dust-coated file room.

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Windows to the Soul

There was a car accident. A bad one. I was unharmed, but my wife died on impact. My son, Cam, made it out alive. I guess you can call it alive. He was pinned by a piece of metal through his groin. Someone at the hospital said it was a miracle he didn’t bleed out. I would’ve believed them if he didn’t burn while he was pinned.

Trapped in the backseat, watching the flames come toward him, Cam’s skin started to blister. He screamed and screamed. Some of it was unintelligible, but a good portion was him begging me to help. I couldn’t reach him. So, I watched him burn. His skin steamed as the moisture inside boiled. His hair ignited in a white flash, burning off in seconds. The clothing was next. It was cotton, so it went quickly enough, but his sneakers smouldered and melted, coating his feet with molten artificial material.

I didn’t hear the fire trucks arrive. Firefighters pushed me to the side as they doused the car and its occupants with flame retardant foam. Cam had lost consciousness, but I’d just assumed he was dead. When they found a pulse and sawed open the car to get him out, I couldn’t comprehend how he’d survived. But I felt something like joy. I rode with him in the ambulance to the hospital. It was while he was in the burn unit having 90% of his skin debrided that a nurse told me how lucky he was.

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(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-z0Q8Y9rLI)

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When you're dreaming with a broken heart, The waking up is the hardest part You roll out of bed and down on your knees And for a moment you can hardly breathe Wondering was she really here Is she standing in my room? No, she's not 'Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone When you're dreaming with a broken heart, The giving up is the hardest part She takes you in with her crying eyes Then all at once you have to say goodbye Wondering, could you stay, my love? Will you wake up by my side? No, she can't 'Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand? Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand? Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand? Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hands? Would you get them if I did? No, you won't 'Cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone When you're dreaming with a broken heart, The waking up is the hardest part.

John Mayer

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This was the second advertisement for the product. The first was poorly received, as it was just a picture of a frowning woman squatting over a bottle with the tagline “blast some bleach up ya cunt.”

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I’m still most commonly known around the internet as “That Storytime Guy”, and since Storytimes are their own entity on YouTube, I thought I’d give it a try! But in this video, I’m not the only one that’s going to be telling it. They’re also gonna be told by all of YOU! This ended up being SUPER fun and silly, and I hope you all enjoy the zaniness that happened in this video today!!

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Assisted Suicide

He’d wait until everyone was asleep before starting. I’d lie still and feign unconsciousness, but his voice would persist, weakly howling in terrible desperation, as he pleaded with me. Begged me. Implored me to help him take his life.

In the garish brightness of daylight, I’d talk to my loved ones about our sleepless nights. The pity on their faces was obvious; so too was the resigned helplessness. They knew there was nothing they could do. All the suffering had to be endured by him, and, by association, me. I was his confidant; the only other person he felt comfortable speaking to. Sobbing to. Screaming to.

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I've been reading books of old The legends and the myths Achilles and his gold Hercules and his gifts Spiderman's control And Batman with his fists And clearly I don't see myself upon that list But she said, where d'you wanna go? How much you wanna risk? I'm not looking for somebody With some superhuman gifts Some superhero Some fairytale bliss Just something I can turn to Somebody I can kiss I want something just like this Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Oh, I want something just like this Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Oh, I want something just like this I want something just like this I've been reading books of old The legends and the myths The testaments they told The moon and its eclipse And Superman unrolls A suit before he lifts But I'm not the kind of person that it fits She said, where d'you wanna go? How much you wanna risk? I'm not looking for somebody With some superhuman gifts Some superhero Some fairytale bliss Just something I can turn to Somebody I can miss I want something just like this I want something just like this Oh, I want something just like this Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Oh, I want something just like this Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo Where d'you wanna go? How much you wanna risk? I'm not looking for somebody With some superhuman gifts Some superhero Some fairytale bliss Just something I can turn to Somebody I can kiss I want something just like this Oh, I want something just like this Oh, I want something just like this Oh, I want something just like this Oh, I want something just like this

Chainsmokers

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My thoughts.

That sudden realization that you probably ficked up the one thing you need the most. And now you're probably going to be alone and/or single. Or the pain of when you slam your fist into the bark of a tree to the point where it bleeds because you know that you're a worthless peice of shit who deserves to be alone and die. Because right now. I feel all of that.

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Hinata is always adorable, but she took it to one million this episode.

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part of a series made for electric objects : )

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I was kidnapped by my girlfriend and what she did to me was beyond comprehension.

About ten years ago, I dated a masseuse named Valerie. Well, masseuse in training. She was passionate and enthusiastic and she practiced as frequently as she could. That meant I got a ton of free massages. Obviously, since we were a couple, those massages would escalate and turn into that usual thing couples do, but it was only after she felt she’d gotten in a good practice session.

After one of our, ahem, “sessions,” Val looked a little confused but also relieved. I asked her what was up. She told me the sores she had on the inside of her mouth didn’t hurt anymore. We’d talked about those things before. She said they weren’t contagious, thankfully, but she’d had to endure them for most of her life and they were intensely painful; sometimes even debilitatingly so. Doctors prescribed an ointment for her to put on them when the outbreaks occurred, but they barely took the edge off. Plus, she was deeply attached to the ideas of natural healing and homeopathy and all that, so she very, very rarely used the medication. But that night, for the first time in a while, I could tell she wasn’t powering through her pain. She genuinely felt good and had no idea why.

Her pain returned a few hours later. As always, she did her best to ignore it. Fast forward a couple days - another massage, another occasion for sexy times. Midway through, she stopped kissing me and exclaimed, “that’s it!” I didn’t know what she was talking about. She rolled off me and stuck her finger in my mouth. Not really sure what the hell was going on, I just sat up on the bed and let her do whatever she was doing. She pulled her wet finger from my mouth and stuck it in her own. I saw her rubbing the inside of her cheek. Her face brightened and she informed me, with complete certainty, that my saliva was taking away her pain. I laughed and said something encouraging despite thinking she was nuts. Then she hopped back on me and I completely forgot everything she’d said.

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I keep a lot of shit to myself because in reality nobody gives a fuck.

deepvsadness (via deepvsadness)