Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog


8 Reasons To Thank The People Who Hurt You Most In Life

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 12:39 PM PDT

Brittani Lepley
Brittani Lepley

1. The people who were able to hurt you most were also the people who you were able to love the most. We aren't profoundly affected by people who aren't already deeply within our hearts. For someone to have that much importance in your life is sacred, even when it goes askew. It's a gift to know someone who was able to truly affect you, even if at first, it didn't seem like it was for the best.

2. Difficult relationships often push you to change your behavior for the better. In feeling helpless, you learn to take care of yourself. In feeling used, you recognize your worth. In being abused, you develop compassion. In feeling like you're stuck, you realize there is always a choice. In accepting what was done to you, you realize that nobody has control at the end of the day, but in surrendering the need for something we'll never have, we can find peace, which is what we were actually seeking in the first place.

3. What you learn and who you become is more important than how you temporarily feel. That relationship may have seemed almost unbearable at the time, but the feeling is transitory. The wisdom and grace and knowledge that you carried with you afterwards isn't. It sets a foundation for the rest of your life. The ends far outweigh the means, and to be grateful for what you've been through is to completely acknowledge that.

4. You don't come across these people by accident, they were your teachers and catalysts. In the words of C. Joybell C., we're all stars that think they're dying until we realize we're collapsing into supernovas – to become more beautiful than ever before. It often takes the contrast of pain to completely appreciate what we have, it often takes hate to incite self-recognition. Sometimes the way light enters us is, in fact, through the wound.

5. Even if it wasn't your fault, it is your problem, and you get to choose what you do in the aftermath. You have every right to rage and rant and hate every iota of someone's being, but you also have the right to choose to be at peace. To thank them is to forgive them, and to forgive them is to choose to realize that the other side of resentment is wisdom. To find wisdom in pain is to realize that the people who become 'supernovas' are the ones who acknowledge their pain and then channel it into something better, not people who just acknowledge it and then leave it to stagnate and remain.

6. The people who have been through a lot are often the ones who are wiser and kinder and happier overall. This is because they've been "through" it, not "past" it or "over" it. They've completely acknowledged their feelings and they've learned and they've grown. They develop compassion and self-awareness. They are more conscious of who they let into their lives. They take a more active role in creating their lives, in being grateful for what they have and in finding reason for what they don't.

7. It showed you what you do deserve. Those relationships didn't actually hurt you, they showed you an unhealed part of yourself, a part that was preventing you from being truly loved. That's what happens when we finally get past hurtful experiences and terrible relationships: we realize we are worth more, and so we choose more. We realize how we blindly or naively said "yes" to someone or gave them our mind and heart space when we didn't have to. We realize our role in choosing what we want in our lives, and by experiencing what seems like the worst, we finally acknowledge that it feels so wrong because we deserve so much more.

8. Truly coming to peace with anything is being able to say: "thank you for that experience." To fully move on from anything, you must be able to recognize what purpose it served, and how it made you better. Until that moment, you'll only be ruminating in how it made things worse, which means you're not to the other side yet. To fully accept your life – the highs, lows, good, bad – is to be grateful for all of it, and to know that the "good" teaches you well, but the "bad" teaches you better. TC mark

33 Of The Funniest Quotes About Marriage That Are Actually True

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 09:49 AM PDT

via twenty20/Dariakova
via twenty20/Dariakova

1.

“In olden times, sacrifices were made at the altar, a practice which is still very much practiced.”

Helen Rowland

2.

“The most important four words for a successful marriage: ‘I’ll do the dishes.'”

Anonymous

3.

“By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you’ll become happy; if you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.”

Socrates

4.

“I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”

Rita Rudner

5.

"Men marry women with the hope they will never change. Women marry men with the hope they will change. Invariably they are both disappointed."

Albert Einstein

6.

“All men make mistakes, but married men find out about them sooner.”

—Red Skelton

7.

“The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.”

Henny Youngman

8.

"The trouble with some women is that they get all excited about nothing – and then marry him."

Cher

9.

"Love, n. A temporary insanity curable by marriage."

Ambrose Bierce

10.

"Before marriage, a girl has to make love to a man to hold him. After marriage, she has to hold him to make love to him."

Marilyn Monroe

11.

“Many a man in love with a dimple makes the mistake of marrying the whole girl.”

Stephen Leacock

12.

“For marriage to be a success, every woman and every man should have her and his own bathroom. The end.”

Catherine Zeta-Jones

13.

“If you want your wife to listen to you, then talk to another woman; she will be all ears.”

Sigmund Freud

14.

“Marriage is the bond between a person who never remembers anniversaries and another who never forgets them.”

Ogden Nash

15.

“Marriage is an attempt to solve problems together which you didn’t even have when you were on your own.”

Eddie Cantor

16.

“Marriage is not just spiritual communion, it is also remembering to take out the trash.”

Joyce Brothers

17.

“Marrying a man is like buying something you’ve been admiring for a long time in a shop window. You may love it when you get it home, but it doesn’t always go with everything else in the house.”

Jean Kerr

18.

“Any intelligent woman who reads the marriage contract, and then goes into it, deserves all the consequences.”

Isadora Duncan

19.

“Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.”

Benjamin Franklin

20.

“Men who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage – they’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.”

—Rita Rudner

21.

“The best way to get most husbands to do something is to suggest that perhaps they’re too old to do it.”

—Ann Bancroft

22.

“When you have a baby, love is automatic, when you get married, love is earned.”

—Marie Osmond

23.

“Marriage – a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.”

—Beverley Nichols

24.

“Marriage has no guarantees. If that’s what you’re looking for, go live with a car battery.”

—Erma Bombeck

25.

“Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster that devours everything: familiarity.”

—Honore de Balzac

26.

“All marriages are happy. It’s the living together afterward that causes all the trouble.”

—Raymond Hull

27.

“If you want to know how your girl will treat you after marriage, just listen to her talking to her little brother.”

—Sam Levenson

28.

“They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.”

—Alexander Pope

29.

“Never get married in college; it’s hard to get a start if a prospective employer finds you’ve already made one mistake.”

—Elbert Hubbard

30.

“Take care of him. And make him feel important. And if you can do that, you’ll have a happy and wonderful marriage. Like two out of every ten couples.”

—Neil Simon

31.

“Marriage is a difficult project. When seven years have passed and all your body’s cells have been replaced, you’re meant to experience that seven-year itch.”

—Yoko Ono

32.

“I married beneath me, all women do.”

—Nancy Astor

33.

“Many people spend more time in planning the wedding than they do in planning the marriage.”

—Zig Ziglar TC mark

I’m Here To Tell You What Really Happened With The ‘Silent Hills’ Story: It Almost Killed Me

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 09:34 AM PDT

This was a story that began a long time ago on a hill somewhere, probably in Japan. Standing on this hill and looking down, one would see below them an image so horrific that I could not even begin to describe it for you here. Well, I could or at least I tried but that resulted in: my laptop crashing, me being hospitalized with a 104 degree fever, and the engine in my new car giving out while I was driving it, which almost got me killed. Let's back up.

I've written about a lot of really weird shit. Researching said shit has led me to engage in some pretty questionable activities in the past: breaking into abandoned government installations, consuming mind-altering chemicals, and even making OKCupid profiles. But I've never felt like my life was truly in jeopardy until the time I tried to write about a video game.

It was the Silent Hill franchise, to be specific. I'd always been a big fan of the series and was more than a little let down when its latest sequel, Silent Hills, had been canceled last April. The project was being helmed by horror master, Guillermo Del Toro, and seemed poised to reinvent one of the truest staples of horror gaming. Then, out of nowhere Konami (the studio which had been backing the project) announced that Silent Hills was to be put on "indefinite hiatus", which was basically triple-A studio speak for "It's not you, it's me."

Reasons provided were vague and, as a result, the internet rumor mill was soon bursting at the seams with half-formed theories and unsubstantiated rumors regarding who was ultimately to blame for the game's sudden cancellation. It didn't help matters that both Konami and Del Toro remained noticeably tight-lipped on the matter.

So fans such as myself had been left scratching their heads, forced to contemplate the "why" behind it all from our own cobbled-together interpretations of how things had gone so terribly wrong. If I was a smarter man and had done my research before it was too late, I might've discovered that the Del Toro project was not the first Silent Hill production to suffer from mysterious complications.

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In fact, every game in the series had been marred with issues. From critical studio oversights to whole creative teams quitting "due to issues regarding mental health", it would seem that the Silent Hill franchise as a whole was cursed. Not even Guillermo Del Toro, a man whose contributions to the horror genre were downright categorical, could manage to get a proper Silent Hill game off the ground.

So of course my dumb ass thought it would be a good idea to write a story about it, unaware of what that would entail, because I honestly felt like I didn't have a choice. It was my dreams again. It was always my dreams. I suffered from chronic nightmares, as some of you may know, and it's probably no surprise that I used my writing as a way to vent about the disturbing shit which my subconscious felt a constant need to share with me.

The fresh form of hell that I was being plagued with at that time was a recurring dream where I was standing on a hilltop somewhere. It was just after dusk and the sky was a moonlit purple smear. I could see what looked like a feudal Japanese village below me (my initial thought had been that it looked like an early level from the second Tenchu game, but I digress.)

There was a silhouette moving towards the base of the hill that I was standing on. And by moving, I mean slowly crawling. It was a strange, oblong shape that didn't appear to be even vaguely human in origin and it was inching its way very slowly up the hill. It was crawling towards me.

And this is where I would usually wake up, drenched in fear-sweat and squinting at the light from the DVD menu looping on the television in my bedroom. That night, it had been Ghostbusters and the first chords of the titular theme-song were just starting up again, accompanied by Ray Parker Jr. "If there's somethin' strange, in your neighborhood…"

I muted the TV and the room was drenched in an eerie silence. I had to pee and climbed out of bed, actively trying not to recall the dream I'd just had. I started down the hallway to the bathroom but then froze as I heard a loud clicking sound coming from my living room.

The TV in the den was on and so was my PS3. On the screen was a cinematic from Silent Hill 2 in which the protagonist, James Sutherland, watches a VHS tape of his dead wife and the clicking sound I heard had been James inserting the tape.

It was still strange though; I had a digital copy of Silent Hill 2 on my PS3 but I hadn't played it in months. On top of that, how the hell did the game load by itself?

The whole scene was drenched in an ominous sense of foreboding and, though the footage on the tape wasn’t overtly scary, I knew that it would quickly devolve into the kind of abstract madness that I really wasn’t in the mood for at that moment. I scanned the den, searching for the Playstation controller so I could turn off the PS3, but couldn't find it. Finally, I gave up and reached down to turn off the console manually like a freaking caveman.

And that's when I saw the eyes glaring at me from the darkness below my TV. I let out a startled yelp and quickly retracted my hand like a man setting a mousetrap. The eyes were red and glowing and I realize how ridiculous that sounds, but I can assure you the whole thing seems a lot less ridiculous when it's 3AM and those same eyes are staring you down from the shelf below YOUR television.

I stumbled back into the coffee table, knocking off the controller that hadn't been there a moment earlier and it clattered to the floor. When I looked back at the PS3, the eyes were gone. That night was when I decided to write the Silent Hill story and I slept like a baby once I went back to bed. I had taken that as a good sign, but it was actually just the calm before the storm.

beetlejuice

For about the next week or so, every night the dream would go on a little longer. Every night, it would get a little worse. The silhouette climbing up that hill would get a little bit closer. Slightly more visible…

At first, I could barely make sense of what I was seeing as the inhuman shape emerged from the darkened village and began to make its way up that moonlit hillside. By the third night though, things began to take shape and by the fourth it had inched itself close enough that there was no denying what I was seeing.

And here's where we reach the real problem with this story: I can't tell you what it is that I saw in those dreams. I tried and it literally almost killed me. And if you've read some of my other stuff, you know how much I detest the word "literally", so if I'm using it then you KNOW somebody fucked up. Sadly, that somebody was me.

I was convinced what I was seeing in my nightmares had something to do with the origin of the Silent Hill mythos. So I started to research its creator, Keiichiro Toyama. When my initial investigation failed to uncover anything about the man's upbringing that was even vaguely sinister, I decided to simply make up the rest.

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The story I ended up writing was about my friend "Danny", who was a game developer. The tale began with Danny scoring me a demo of the now-canceled Silent Hills and I, of course, played the game, resulting in horrific real-world consequences. The story's climax included a vivid description of the image from my nightmares and I had been kind of hoping that the dreams would stop once I posted the story.

They did not and even more unfortunately; this was when things started to get REALLY bad. I found out that my grandfather — who raised me since I was five and was more of a father to me than my actual dad had ever been — was being moved into hospice care the same day that I sent the Silent Hills story into Thought Catalog.

Even days after it went up, I couldn't bring myself to read over the article or even think about writing. Normally, dreaming up stories is ALL I do, but my grandfather dying was not a concept that I could just filter into words like there was some concrete way to define mortality, tie it up all nice and put a pretty bow on top of the fact that even the nicest, funniest, most badass men in the world are still flesh-and-bone people who will some day die. It's fucking bullshit.

Though, as someone much smarter than myself once said (via some show I watched):

"Why do we have to die?"

"Because it makes the rest of this so special."

Now, for those of you who might not know what a "rough draft" is, it's what writers call their initial and least-polished attempt at writing a particular story. Meaning that, by their very nature, rough drafts are not something designed for human consumption. So, when I finally realized that I had turned in a mislabeled rough draft of the Silent Hills story instead of the finished version which I spent almost a week polishing, I was a bit livid to say the least.

If I really wanted to accurately describe the feeling of knowing that 20,000 readers had seen an early rough draft of my story, I would tell you to imagine you've just started dating someone that you really like and even better is that you know they really like you too and then you accidentally walk in on them taking a massive shit. It's something that you know is a natural act that's required to allow the rest of this to work, but it's not something you ever needed to see. Now imagine how you would feel if YOU were the one on the toilet. Times 20,000.

THAT'S what it felt like when I found out that people had read a rough draft (and I mean ROUGH draft) of my story. I couldn't have begged Thought Catalog to take it down fast enough. My editor at TC, Michael, initially wanted me to send him the finished draft so he could update the page, but by then, the damage was done. That rough draft had already been up for days at this point.

I felt like a war refugee after going through the comments section below that story. Of course, the bulk of the remarks had been from my most avid readers, who were all asking some variation of the same question: "What is this and why was it such a mess?"

Michael finally convinced me to send him the finished draft by offering to reset the comments, but when I tried to send him the file (after double checking that it was the right one this time), my laptop suddenly emitted a long low beeping sound and then it did this:

7IrALNKaiyaw9Iycx2C2GSEe8KQR26GNsGZnMGcinBInNN9NPorGLXCn88l3ew43HzBUnpQnjLR35YKp86U-9kURzMJofaTD3ZkA8qt4L1Ex12TMTseiTz5pxDol2RYFENmNWY1z8qI8s9-YwyjT5t5BQrTL7rh4iHmCZeWJcRpoQkmGeqWo14SKHF0QjJTGxxcuAPWPoWjVeIL8tDeZqOnh

Yeah. So, trying to remain calm, I phoned my friend Jay (yes, the same computer guy named Jay who was the inspiration for the character in Cam Girl), who was my resident computer expert (how did you guess?). Luckily, Jay worked from home, running a start-up that develops medical coding apps. He was also a good friend who understood that a writer's laptop was nothing less then the key to his very survival, so he told me to come over right away and he would take a look at it.

This was about 4:30PM on a Tuesday. Not wanting to get caught in 5 o'clock traffic, I packed up my laptop as quickly as possible and then rushed down to my car. It was less than a 10 minute drive from my place to Jay's house via the interstate and traffic appeared to be mercifully light as I started up the on-ramp.

I merged into the middle lane and it was maybe 30 seconds later, the engine in my car (a certified pre-owned Jeep Liberty I bought less than two months early and hadn't given me any problems until now) began to sputter. Soon, every warning light on my dashboard was blinking. And then, just like that, the car died on me.

Thankfully, I'd been going fast enough I was able to use the Jeep's remaining inertia to roll down a nearby exit ramp and pull over on an adjacent side street. I had been so preoccupied with trying to remain calm this whole time that I didn’t notice the powder-blue Buick which had been trailing me since I left my apartment or that it followed me down the exit ramp. I barely registered the vehicle as I finally found a spot to pull over and it sped past me, pulling into a driveway about half a block up before the Buick immediately backed out so that it was now facing me.

I pulled out my cell and was about to call Jay when the large sedan crashed into me. The car had built up enough speed on its way back to my parked Liberty that the collision sent me reeling face-first into my steering wheel, activating the airbag which inflated around my head before flinging me back against the driver's seat.

For several agonizing moments, I sat there in a daze, trying to piece together what had just happened through my rapidly blurring vision. I heard the sound of a car door opening and realized it was my own as a rush of warm summer air suddenly enveloped me. I turned and blinked at the figure standing just outside my open driver's side door and when my vision finally un-blurred enough to see what I was actually looking at, I blinked again. Just to be sure.

beetlejuice

According to the testimony given by one Gloria Deleon (the housekeeper who had been scheduled to clean the Madison home that Friday, August the 7th) Edgar Madison's mother, Margaret, had been staying with her son and his family ever since Edgar Senior passed away two months earlier. From what Miss Deleon had observed, Margaret was a very nice lady — always smiling and friendly. "Marge" (as her friends knew her) seemed to share a special connection with her grandson, Edgar Madison III, who was 12 years old.

Early that Friday afternoon, Deleon had been putting towels away in the upstairs bathroom when she heard "Little Edgar" (as she referred to him) call for his grandmother to come see something in a video game that his friend had given him. According to the police reports, the game found paused on the kid's TV was Silent Hill 2.

Deleon claimed that she then heard Little Edgar screaming.

"Grandma, no… Please! Stop!"

This was proceeded by the sounds of a scuffle and when Deleon entered the bedroom, she saw Margaret Matheson beating her dead grandson's head in with a 10-inch pewter replica of Han Solo frozen in carbonite while screaming: "WHO DID THIS TO MY BABY?!"

Deleon claimed she tried to pull Margaret away from the body, but instead she ended up taking a blow to the head from the pewter statue.

"She was a mad woman," said Deleon, via an interpreter. "Her eyes were red and her skin looked like it was melting."

Miss Deleon was only out for a few minutes, but by the time she regained consciousness, Margaret and Little Edgar were both gone. She phoned the police, who were unsure of Deleon's story, and they issued an Amber Alert for the boy despite the substantial amount of blood found on scene. The Medical Examiner had told them that it was an amount usually indicative of lethal head trauma, especially for a boy of Edgar's size.

The next reported sighting of Margaret all but confirmed the young boy's death. A clerk at a truck stop located roughly 40 miles from the Texas/Louisiana border called 9-1-1 about what he thought was an old crazy vagrant woman rummaging in the dumpsters behind his job.

The clerk assumed he'd interrupted the retired lot-lizard in the middle of a midnight trash-snack and was shouting for the woman to get out of the dumpster when she suddenly hissed at him and pulled what looked like a decomposing corpse of a child out of the trash before finally scurrying off into the night, dragging the body with her.

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The clerk at the truck stop admitted several details to the first responders which hadn't made it into the official police report. Details about how the elderly woman's nose "was like a witch or something" and that her eyes had been "all red and shit."

At the time, authorities didn't link these two cases together because police had issued an APB on Margaret's powder-blue Buick along with the Amber Alert and the detectives working the case had their attention on what was still presumably their best lead for getting Little Edgar back. The only reason I was able to make the connection myself was because this happened.

Margaret pulled open the driver's side door of my wrecked Liberty, her glowing red eyes staring me down.

"WHY DID YOU HURT MY BABY?!" she screamed.

Her pale skin sagged like a melted candle and she reeked of unwashed human body, which accommodated the motif set by her soiled clothing and stringy hair. I could see what that clerk from the truck stop had been talking about — Margaret's elongated nose did resemble a stereotypical witch, namely of the Wicked West variety. That weird nose hung like a droopy mess on the front of the old woman's face as she stood shaking beside me, waiting for her answer.

I was still too dazed from the collision to understand what was going on and tried to mutter an apology. I thought the old bat had meant her car until I saw what, or rather who, she was holding by the wrist. It was Little Edgar's tiny corpse hanging from the old lady's white knuckled grasp. His eyes were wide and lifeless. One of his cheeks had begun to rot away and his lips had long since receded, revealing the toothy grin of a tiny mad man.

I hadn't even begun to process what I was seeing when the little guy's lifeless eyes turned to glare at me. The old lady, who looked like she had been painted by Dali, chucked Edgar's corpse onto my lap and slammed the door shut before leaning against it. I tried to shove Little Edgar toward the passenger seat as he began to claw at my neck and face.

I raised my arms out of reflex and felt a tiny cold hand wrap around each of my wrists as he sunk his teeth into my left forearm. I cried out in pain and yanked my wrists free of his grasp. Little Edgar went to bite my nose and I headbutted the tiny dead kid as hard as I could.

This dazed the undead toddler long enough to give me time to think. When he tried to bite my face again, I used both hands to grab the little monster by his head and proceeded to dig out his eyes with my thumbs. Not as easy as it sounds. ESPECIALLY when it sounds like you're blinding a child.

Little Deadgar howled in pain and when I finally let go and climbed out through the passenger door, he didn't bother to chase after me. Someone did, though. I could hear the rhythm of lumbering footsteps behind me and glanced back to see the old woman on all fours (and this is really the only word that fits) galloping toward me.

"YOU DID THIS! YOU! YOU DID THIS!" she screamed. “YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS!”

I doubled my own speed, but it was no use. Within a matter of moments, the old woman pulled my legs out from under me. I could remember hearing the faint sound of emergency sirens approaching from somewhere far off as my head collided with the asphalt.

That's the last thing that I can remember before waking up in the hospital three days later. Thankfully, a resident happened to be looking out his kitchen window when Margaret crashed into me. He was able to corroborate my balls-ass crazy story and said that Margaret bolted moments before the cops arrived, taking the partially decomposed corpse of her dead grandson with her.

I was technically the victim of a hit-and-run that became an assault, but naturally, the cops still had a lot of questions for me. Those questions would have to wait though, because I was unconscious by the time they arrived on scene. The EMTs rushed me to the hospital where I immediately came down with a fever of 104 degrees and spent the next three days in a coma.

No shit. And when I woke up, I knew why. Why all of this was happening. It was that goddamn Silent Hill story. See, one of many significant differences between the finished draft of that story and the rough draft which got posted was that the finished version contained a detailed description of the thing I had been dreaming about that whole week. The same something I had just spent an entire coma seeing over and over again. And apparently, that something doesn't want me to tell you about it.

And, after a panicked 3AM chat with my editor at Thought Catalog, I finally decided I wasn't going to. For what it's worth, things actually got better after that. My laptop started working again and my Playstation stopped acting up. Plus, I haven't had a single possessed person crash their car into me since, which is traditionally a good sign. TC mark

13 People On What It Was Like To Have Sex With One Of Their Friends’ Parents

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 03:45 PM PDT

(YouTube)
(YouTube)
Found on AskReddit.

1. “I was 16 at my friend's house. Whilst they were outside drinking beer through a hose I was inside my friend's mum's bedroom just chatting. Don’t remember much, but I went to kiss her and she pulled back and looked at me, got up and locked the deadlock on her bedroom door. That’s when I knew it was on like Donkey Kong. Best thirty seconds ever!!”

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2. “When I was 16 I had this girlfriend in high school. Her mom would always flirt with me, etc. When that girl broke up with me, I was heartbroken and her mother called me to ask if I was OK and if I wanted to get some coffee. A few hangouts later, she used me like her boy-toy for a few months and her husband never found out.”

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3. “I have a friend that’s a few years younger and went to her graduation party. While there I hung out with her and her family (whom I had known for ages) and commented to her mom (whom we will call Anne) was looking good. Anne had started working out and was looking fit after her last relationship ended….So that summer I dropped by a little more frequently, and sometimes I happened to come by when my friend was at work or otherwise away and just hung out with Anne. It worked out well for a summer.”

beetlejuice

4. “I’ll tell you something, it sucks!!! I have to live with the constant fear that her sons, all of whom I am friends with, will find out. On top of that, one of the only two people besides me that knows about this is sometimes blackmailing me, threatening to blow my cover. I live in a small town, and if this comes out I’m a dead man. However, despite all this; was it worth it? Hell, yes.”

beetlejuice

5. “His parents had just broken up, but for some reason she stayed temporarily while her new BF got an apartment. Saturday night, bonfire. Drank too much, stayed up late. 2am, smoking alone and she came out. Nothing weird BC she is a smoker and a night owl. Stood next to me before asking to sit on my lap. I made eye contact with her, and she just started making out with me. Ended up fucking her in my friend’s bed while he slept on the couch. I vowed to never speak of it again.”

beetlejuice

6. “I had sex with a friend’s father…. I think he was in his early 40s? He looked pretty young. He was sending out the vibes that he was interested and I was flattered. He had a handsome distinguished kind of look and I’ve always been a sucker for that….We were out on a friend of theirs’ boat for an afternoon. We were drinking and having a great time. I was wearing a very small bathing suit. We were all in the water having a great time—probably 7 or 8 of us—and having a water fight. He kept trying to dunk me. He’d have his arms around me and I’d shimmy and shake and squirm and he was hard as rock. When we got back to their place that afternoon my pal decided to have a nap….Fortified with some liquor I changed into my fanciest bra and panties and I strolled into his room and asked me if he wanted me. He said yes. He was fantastic in bed and we continued to have sex on/off the next few weeks.”

beetlejuice

7. “I was about 17 or 18 at the time and I always noticed my friend’s dad giving me subtle hints that he was interested in me….One day when I was hanging out with my friend, he actually went out to do a quick errand for his dad. So it was just me and his dad at home. He came by the room I was in and started talking to me while sitting one foot away from me. At the moment I felt very turned on, especially since he made me feel so comfortable. We ended up making out for a bit (I’m not sure how that happened), and we ended up doing it in his office quickly (doggy style). It lasted maybe like 5 minutes, and after that I was extremely weirded out. I never went over to my friend’s house after.”

beetlejuice

8. “My friend’s mom had always told me how cute she thought I was, and would joke about how she couldn’t wait until I turned 18. I would flirt back occasionally and one night we did some “hand stuff” while my friend was sitting 3 feet away, she never found that out….So the day before my senior year in high school I decided I didn’t want to be a virgin anymore. I text her and ask if she wants to hang out, she says sure and picks me up in the family minivan. We drive a little ways away, put the seats down in the back, smoked a bowl, listened to Kid Cudi, then we fucked….I got the best head I’ve ever had to this date, and there was no awkwardness afterwards. We even hooked up a couple more times.”

beetlejuice

9. “Was just getting on hookup websites, and seeing the vast amount of men out there who also like men. Ended up fucking my girlfriend’s Dad. Never told her, years later (she’s the type that’d find it hysterical). Bonus story, she was a lesbian, I was gay, both of us used each other as covers without realizing.”

beetlejuice

10. “I fucked one of my best friend’s moms for about a year. Her husband was cool with it, and a bit jealous she was doing an 18-year-old and he wasn’t.…Because I was out of school, and an employee, her son never put two and two together. I would travel with her, and stay in hotels with her, so it was the perfect cover. I don’t really know how it started, but she and I hit it off. She asked me once if I wanted a blowjob or to be made love to. She’s the only woman that has ever successfully sucked me off to completion. It was fucking wonderful. Most awkward moment was definitely when she said “That’s where ‘Johnny’ came from!” as I stuck it in her box.”

beetlejuice

11. “When I was 18 but still in high school I had a threesome with a married couple I met online. My first threesome! We had good fun, so I came back over again soon for more of it. After the sexy times had ensued, I glanced up at their living-room wall and saw school pictures of a girl I knew (not exactly friends, but acquaintances) and had been in the school system with since middle school. Dawning realization of horror…”

beetlejuice

12. “When I was 17 years old I started sleeping with my (at the time) recent ex-girlfriend’s mom. It all started one day when we were hanging out at her house and she asked if I wanted to ride over to her mother’s (my ex-girlfriend’s grandmother) house to feed her dogs seeing she was out of town….While on the way everything seemed normal until she put her hand on my leg. I was caught a little off guard, but we were close so I didn’t really think too much of it. We continued down the road in a void of silence when she slides her hard up to my belt and starts unbuckling it and unbuttoning my pants. Next thing I know, she is out of her seat and on her knees in the floorboard delivering a pretty fantastic blowjob. We get to her mom’s and she grabs me and pulls me into her mom’s room and pushes me on the bed. At this point I’m pretty freaked out. I’m 17 and this is a lot to take in….After a few minutes she took off her pants and crawled up to where she was straddling. As I lay there I am being flooded with the emotions of excitement, horror, guilt, and pleasure.”

beetlejuice

13. “I was close with two females (sisters) when I was younger (17-22) and their mother was very attractive and looked like she was of their age. One night, during a small party at their place, the mother asks if I would drive her to the gas station to grab some mixers for our alcohol (she was the type who would hang and drink with her children and children’s friends). I oblige, and on the way back she flat-out asks me if I want a blowjob. I respond, “UM SURE.” She proceeds, and I make sure to drive extra slow to prolong the experience, which is surreal. That was that, and we acted none too oddly back at the party. Later that evening as people start falling asleep and whatnot, she grabs my hand and pulls me into her bedroom. Door locked behind us, we have sex. It was phenomenal.” TC mark

Maybe I’m Just The ‘Pathetic’ Girl Still In Love With You, So What?

Posted: 30 Aug 2015 01:14 PM PDT

IMG_8995

Everyone wants me to spit it out.
They're salivating at my own undoing,
anticipating the sentence that has me shedding all armor.
Savoring this image,
How I'm that girl now,
The antithesis of anything remotely cool and moved on.
I’m gossip blogs
and conversations between old high school peers.
“Do you read the stuff she writes?”
“It’s about him, right?”
“Hahahah, oh god. Someone needs a lesson in letting go.”

Valid.
Valid,
I whisper it to myself when I can’t sleep.
They’re all right.

So here it is,
The truth that has people watching my destruction,
a car wreck on the side of the road,
I can see all of them rubbernecking my heartbreak.

I never stopped loving you.

And there are far worse things in this world than that.

People keep expecting metaphors to roll off my tongue,
Words that will somehow stitch up wounds
from battles fought long ago.
Maybe she’s just doing it for the attention,
or the sake of her art.
I hear you whispering,
I am not deaf.

So here it is,
There's no way to make this sound pretty,
or special,
or like I've got my shit together.
I'm just finally being honest.
Ripping apart the pristine paneling that’s kept me in place,
I’m throwing stones at barricades until they give way.
I’ve stopped writing about people who were always just glorified 30 minute sitcoms,
Something to numb it all.
I was good at that,
Forgetting about the real stuff.

Well, it's gone and now,
I can't fast forward commercials.
I'm left looking at the destruction,
Remains on all sides.
They are all you.
Everything is you.
I faked it for so long.
Distractions,
it turns out,
are useful little suckers.
But they expire.

Turns out?


My love for you?


It doesn't.

It sits waiting in the back of the cupboard,
a bottle of wine.
Aging,
I'm waiting.
Aging.
I bet we still taste good.

I bet we’d taste even better. TC mark

12 Weird Things A Best Friend Will Never Judge You For

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 11:31 AM PDT

margueta
margueta

1. Listening to that one song on repeat for 24 hours straight. They'll find it for you on Spotify, and reassure that it's totally not weird that you reallllllllly like a Ludacris song from 11 years ago, because they genuinely support you as a person. And are willing to let the good in with the bad in with the retro LUDA.

2. Needing to be alone. Just because you're incredibly close to someone doesn't mean you don't need to reenergize on your own. A best friend is happy to give you space when you need it, and doesn't ask for anything afterward (except for that you extend the same courtesy to them when they need space).

3. Having a backslide with an ex. They know it's not their job to be judgmental, it's their job to be there for you to talk about it. Even if they don't love your ex, and they don't think the ex is good for you, they understand that support is always more helpful than being unnecessarily harsh.

4. Your drunk snack preferences. They know what you say you like to people (something normal, like buffalo chicken pizza), and what you actually like to eat when drunk. Which, let's be real, is some sort of weird concoction that involves melted cheese, canned beans and pita bread.

5. For that extra glass of wine. Best friends don't need to drink the same amount, or be on the same intoxication level, but there needs to be a mutual ~judgement free~ zone in regards to alcohol. A best friend doesn't adopt a holier-than-thou complex when you drink too much. They're either right there with you, or are making sure you get home safely.

6. Needing to discuss family drama, or whatever's going on at home. As we get older, we share less and less of our family life with our close friends, just because it feels like breaching uncomfortable territory that's almost taboo to bring up. It's never taboo with a best friend, though. Instead, they'll let you talk through what's going on, and even if they don't have any advice, you'll be glad they listened.

7. For caring for someone even though you know you shouldn't care about them. You cannot help who you have feelings for, or when those feelings arise. Admittedly, it's your friends responsibility to try to keep you safe and out of trouble, but they also aren't going to make you feel guilty for your choices.

8. Spending too much on something, or being overly frugal. Your money, your business. Of course, if you're a binge shopper, they can express concern, and talk these things through with you. But they never want you to feel like you can't tell them something— even if that "something" is that you spent $250 on shoes. And especially if that something is that you can't afford yet another meal out.

9. Telling a white lie to other people that they can see right through. They won't give you away, but they will feel superior to everyone else in the room.

10. Needing their support, or even just needing a hug at the end of a long week. If you and your best friend haven't decided who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon, you're just not doing it right.

11. Your trashy television preferences. (I have watched exactly one episode of The Bachelor and it just happened to be the episode where Ben H got voted off, so I really can't help that I'm still thinking about him and only a true friend would read this and RESPECT ME FOR IT. Or, at the very least, not friend-dump me for it.)

12. Any weird sex dreams you casually mention via text at 8 a.m. on Saturday morning. (Re: The Bachelor, Bcc: Ben H.) TC mark

5 Things You’ll Be Surprised To Know About Contacting The Dead (As Described By A Medium)

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 10:16 AM PDT

Flickr / Tom Fogg
Flickr / Tom Fogg

1. Clothing is optional.

You might think that being a medium would mean I never have to deal with indecent exposure, but I'm beginning to doubt that assumption. When I first started doing readings, the spirits were all clothed and respectable. Then one day I saw a very large male sitting in a recliner without his shirt, telling me about the heart condition he died from. A few weeks later, I was sharing messages from a woman's teenaged son when he started walking the "catwalk" of my living room and posing in his boxers.

The clothing a loved one in spirit chooses can give a message to the person I'm doing a reading for. They might appear wearing the same clothes they were wearing when they passed, or they might wear their favorite purple sweatshirt. They might choose their clothing to add humor to the reading or point out a physical characteristic, like bulging arm muscles or a large stomach. I have yet to get a show of full nudity, but I have learned that loved ones who have passed will appear in their choice of clothing (or lack of it).

2. They aren't spooky.

I know it may sound creepy to think about seeing or talking to people who have passed, but it actually feels very natural to me. Unaccompanied by the scary soundtracks and lighting of movies, it feels like a friend stopped by. It is a privilege to get to know the people who are so loved and missed by their family.

It sometimes feels like I'm playing charades with the spirit because the messages don't always come in the form of words and phrases. Often I'll see images or the spirit will act out something, and I have to figure out what they are trying to get me to say. One woman's father showed me the cover of a Grumpy Old Men DVD to let me know his personality. And almost every spirit who served in the military will start their conversation with me by correcting my posture and giving me the feeling of sitting up straight. There is grief, humor, love, and healing during a reading, but it's never spooky.

3. They don't focus on how they died.

When I communicate with someone's deceased loved one, they might mention how they passed, but then they focus on other topics. They want to share messages about what their life was like, what they learned, and what they see happening in the lives of their family members. They want to let their loved ones know they are doing well on the other side.

When someone passes, they are surrounded by love. They meet up with their other family members who are in spirit, and they are free from pain and physical limitation. There is so much love and support in the dying process. Those of us who are left behind are the ones who are challenged with coming to terms with the loss and healing from our grief. That is the true difficulty. Your loved ones who have passed are doing well.

4. They're just like you…without the body.

Before I worked as a medium, I worked in an emergency room. I remember one day when a patient was brought in, I could see his spirit floating about 10 feet from his body, watching as the medical professionals worked to revive him. I could feel his thoughts and emotions, and what surprised me was how detached he felt from his body, almost as if it belonged to someone else. He was interested in what was happening, but he didn't feel the tragic loss that most of us have learned to associate with death. He was fine and free from pain, without a body, but still existing.

We are all a spirit in a body. The body lives and dies, but the spirit continues. Your loved ones who have passed still exist as well, complete with their personality, memories, and their love for you.

5. It's easier than you might think to communicate with them.

Your loved ones who have passed are not in a faraway place. They are available when you need them, and they are happy to share a message to let you know they are okay.

One of the easiest ways you can start communicating with them is to write them a letter. Tell them what is happening in your life, how you're feeling, or ask for guidance. Then, imagine that you have stepped aside and are allowing them to guide your hands and thoughts. Write everything that comes to you, even if you think you're imagining it. Don't judge what you're writing before you've written it. Just write.

When you're done, read back over the messages. Did you feel your loved one while you were writing? Did you smell their perfume or cologne? Does the guidance sound like something they would say? To get confirmation that you are really communicating with them, ask them to tell you something you don't already know that you will find out about soon.

I was talking with my mother's aunt in spirit one day, and when I asked her to tell me something I didn't know, she told me, "Your husband burned the pancakes." My husband is a great cook, and I knew it was unlikely that he had burned the pancakes he was making for breakfast. I went into the kitchen, and the pancakes looked perfect. I instantly felt deflated. Then my husband lifted up one of the pancakes and said, "I'm sorry honey, but I got distracted and burned the pancakes on one side." I was never more thrilled to eat burnt pancakes!

Your loved ones are happy to communicate with you. Even if you feel like you're imagining things at first, keep trying to communicate with them. The more you practice, the easier it will be to distinguish your thoughts from true messages from your loved ones.

The biggest difference between you and your loved ones in spirit is a physical body. Apart from that, they can still delight you with their humor, offer their love and encouragement, and let you know that they are doing well. TC mark

Lewisberry’s Red Land Little League Team Are Still Our Champions

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 07:46 AM PDT

If you missed it, the Little League World Series happened these two past weeks, where little leaguers from all over the world arrived at Williamsport, Pennsylvania to show off their skills and lift the winner’s trophy.

One team outshone the rest, perhaps boosted by their home-field advantage, but it was these exceptional cast of players from Lewisberry, Pennsylvania that gripped America’s heartstrings.

All of Pennsylvania seemed to cheer when these young boys stepped on home plate, slugging out run after run, home run after home run, quickly ascending to the US Champion spot. Although they ended up losing 18-11 in the World Series final against Japan, they are still our hometown heroes.

Over 120,000 spectators came out to watch the Red Land team play over the weekend, even getting support from the Philadelphia Phillies!

There was so much pride and support shown throughout the tournament.

A whole lot of talent, to boot. Cole Wagner!

Or Braden Kolmansberger!

Or Dylan Rodenhaber!

You can’t forget Zack Sooy’s diving catch…

(If you want the roster, here it is.)

And talk about sportsmanship.

Be proud, Red Land! TC mark

How To Forget Someone You Love

Posted: 30 Aug 2015 08:51 AM PDT

jrharris3
jrharris3

If you want to forget someone you love, I’m sorry you will never fully forget. You heart might stop yearning and your dreams no longer be haunted, then one day you might even be convinced you are done with missing and your wounds all healed. But deep down you know you can only wish it was true because if you see them now, if you have a chance, just a chance to love them like you’ve always wanted, you still cannot be sure you would give it up.

You will never forget someone you love and the love that’s born from sincerity and moments of truths. The good news is, you will learn to clean up your thoughts, ease up your feelings. Then over time you will start to believe your own lies and lies will become reality so long as you physically detach yourself from this person and make effort to move on with your life. But it’s not the same as forgetting. You will live again, love again, but what was there will be right there where you’ve left it and sometimes it scares you.

It scares you because you don’t know how much power it has over you, especially when it’s a love that’s left undone, that remains a possibility and millions of what-ifs. It’s because you never have your own closure and so your heart can’t help but ponder on what could be. Maybe after a while this will not be too often, not so hard but every time you listen to a familiar song, walk down a familiar street or unexpectedly catch a glimpse of that familiar face, you would still hold your breath for a moment and in that brief moment, you’ll know you’ve never forgotten a thing.

You will never forget that person because the truth is, part of you has never really wanted to. And it’s not because you can’t live without them — you definitely can and rationally you know it’s even good to part ways. No. It’s hard to let go because they saw you in a way that you love most to be seen and it’s only them who could bring that part out from you while accepting you for all what you are. You don’t want to forget all the times you spent together, all the ways they made you feel, laughter or tears, pain or happiness. You want to carry it all with you no matter how deep it might cut because it’s what makes you you and this life worth living.

Trying to forget is exactly how you will never forget. And maybe you will never actually do for the rest of your life but it’s okay because you don’t have to. It’s all right to never forget, to always have a place for someone in your heart. It will be hard at first living with this and you might feel like there’s no way you can go on, struggling with thoughts and wishes that keep coming back to this one person. But it will get easier with time. You will learn to accept that it’s part of life and in life, you don’t need a happy ending to appreciate what you’ve got, how better of a person you’ve become.

One day as you look back, you will be glad you have ever met this person, have ever loved, have ever known what it’s like to love so much you need to forget them. You will be grateful for the memories, the lessons, the times that would otherwise have been wasted. You will be proud of how strong you have been, how capable you are of making the right decisions, of holding it all together and living a great life. Future is an unknown place but for now, you will keep your head up, believing wonderful things are awaiting you ahead. TC mark

16 Obvious Signs That You’re Dating A Child In A 20-Something Man’s Body

Posted: 31 Aug 2015 11:16 AM PDT

tdurkee
tdurkee

1. He double texts you when you don't respond, because he worries about you going out with your friends when he isn't there, or what you do when he isn't around.

2. And just generally, he's insecure, but is trying to pass it off as "attentive."

3. He assumes that if you haven't had sex in three days, there's a problem in your relationship, and will even go as far as to ask it's your "lady time." For that matter, he's wildly uncomfortable with the word "period." He's not the kind of guy you want to move in with down the road because the shared bathroom situation would clearly be a problem.

4. He does things for appearance sake, rather than because it's what he wants, or what he thinks you want. As in, he wouldn't shy away from using the title of "boyfriend" or "girlfriend," because he likes the idea of having a girlfriend. But it sometimes feels like he has a girlfriend so that he can check that particularly thing off his 20-something list, rather than because he's head over heels for you and only you.

5. He doesn't vibe with your friend group as much as you'd like because he can be a little bit overbearing. He is either dominating the conversation, or saying nothing at all. And he's holding your hand like a security blanket throughout the whole encounter.

6. His Tinder settings suggest that he's looking for anyone within the range of 18-35, which is just a salute to the fact that he wants to exPeRiEnCe things, because his experience thus far is lacking.

7. He's not appreciative of the small gestures you make to help improve his day. He says "thank you," but generally takes those actions for granted instead of using it as an opportunity to show how the appreciation you deserve.

8. When you mention that your parents are into town, he visibly shifts his weight because he's not only uncomfortable, but doesn't have a legitimate excuse to get out of meeting them. He blatantly tells you that he doesn't think your relationship is ready for the "meet the parents" step… even if you've been in a relationship for over a year.

9. You're not quite sure what he does because he doesn't like to talk about things like work, or careers, or anything tangible that might reveal more about him than his beer preferences. Oh, has he mentioned he likes craft beer?

10. They aren't ready to have a talk about the future, because they don't have a plan of what the future holds for them, and aren't intent on figuring it out anytime soon. It's hard to figure out whether you're going to fit into a plan that doesn't exist.

11. He doesn't practice orgasm equality.

12. He's resistant to making plans, but then faults you for not being able to accommodate his last-minute request to "hang."

13. He listens to Metallica, Imogen Heap or Jason DeRulo with genuine fervor. He's also really into house music, and has yet to realize that the only places EDM has is in a French night club, and stored in the back of our 2005 hearts.

14. He doesn't always think before he speaks, and he is often unaware as to how you'll react to something. Instead of apologizing when he says something that is clearly offensive to you, he'll brush it off because "he wasn't serious," or will make you feel guilty for taking things too seriously.

15. He doesn't know when to stop when it comes to turning on the charm, and sometimes goes too far, but doesn't understand how much he desperately needs to dial it back.

16. He's never seen Casablanca, and is unwilling to give it a chance. TC mark