Thought Catalog

25 Weird But Heartwarming Ways To Explain Exactly What Love Is

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 08:00 PM PST

Dustin Adams
Dustin Adams

1. Love is like ice cream. There are so many different varieties to choose from, but there’s nothing more satisfying than your favorite flavor.

2. Love is a hangover. The pain of it is only ever truly regrettable if you don’t have any great times to show for it.

3. Love is like dancing. Doing it right requires shelving any concern about how ridiculous you might look in the process.

4. Love is a bicycle. You might need training wheels to start, but only until you realize that if you trust yourself enough, you can fly through life on just two wheels.

5. Love is a pencil. It’s incredibly handy, but only if you make sure to sharpen it regularly.

6. Love is a computer. You rely on it constantly, knowing that a few error messages are bound to pop up and drive you crazy until you finally figure out how to make them go away.

7. Love is a hit song. You can’t help getting it stuck in your head and although you might tire of it occasionally, whenever it plays unexpectedly on the radio, you smile wide and sing along.

8. Love is a glass vase. Once broken, it's virtually impossible to put all the pieces back together without getting a little hurt along the way.

9. Love is a blank journal waiting for you to fill its pages with meaningful thoughts, random memories, secrets, and silly doodles, but nothing untruthful.

10. Love is a dumbbell. At times, it can seem remarkably weighty, but exercising the muscles you need to lift it will make you a stronger person.

11. Love is a cult, misunderstood by everyone except those utterly devoted to it.

12. Love is like sushi. It might seem foreign at first, but once you try it you're bound to be a fan for life.

13. Love is a fine wine. The older it gets, the better it tastes. Just don’t be surprised if you find some cork dust or bits of sediment floating around in it.

14. Love is an ipod with a single song on it so you might as well make it a good one.

15. Love is a bottomless scented candle, infusing the surrounding air with a lovely fragrance. Just be sure to monitor the wick at its core so the flame isn’t extinguished by melting wax.

16. Love is a cup of coffee—sometimes burning hot, sometimes ice cold, but rarely served lukewarm.

17. Love is like sweat. You produce it for a reason, so think twice before casually wiping it away.

18. Love is a roller coaster. For years you're not big enough to qualify for a ride, and once you grow up and see what all the up-and-down fuss is about, you may not want another try.

19. Love is like oxygen. You need it to live but when asked to define it, you inevitably struggle.

20. Love is a library. Row upon row of books will beg you to check them out, but you’ll suffer unless you can accept that there aren’t enough hours in the day to read so much.

21. Love is an onion. It has the power to make you weep, but you peel its layers back anyway because it’s just that delicious.

22. Love is an impressionist painting. From a distance it looks perfect, but up-close inspection proves that its beauty is rooted in a careful composition of blurry smudges.

23. Love is a high-rise building, so stately and sturdy until disaster strikes and its vulnerabilities, which were there all along, suddenly become visible.

24. Love is a lemon. A little bit sour, but mostly pleasurable.

25. Love is the never-ending riddle you keep trying to solve even though you know on some level that there’s actually no answer. TC mark

5 Fascinating Things You Didn’t Already Know About Masturbation That Will Make You Want To Love Yourself More Often

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 07:30 PM PST

According to my mother, women don’t masturbate.

The fact that I do, and she knows this because she reads what I write and I don’t find the need to keep quiet about the subject, is not only upsetting to her but further proof that I “act like a man” (a phrase both she and my father have used to describe me on several occasions). My father actually regards it as a compliment, while my mother is hoping her words will kick some sort of conventional ideas of how a lady should act into my brain.

No such luck yet, mom.

Despite my mother’s thoughts on the subject, women do masturbate. In fact, a lot of them do — and do it often, and it’s pleasurable and makes for a better sex life. If you know how to get yourself off, then sex with someone else is that much more satisfying because you’re confident with yourself and know your body.

Here are five things that you perhaps didn’t know about masturbation. Hopefully these facts will make some of you more open to the subject. Let the climaxing begin!

1. People who have sex regularly masturbate more than those who don’t.

Weird, right? Well, not really. If you masturbate, you’re more likely to be sexually open, and therefore, you know, have sex. Also, as I said above, if you know what you like when you’re solo, it will enhance your sexual experience with your partner.

2. More women masturbate than are willing to admit.

Actually, this fact shouldn’t be very shocking, but perhaps the percentages will astonish you. Most teenagers are already going at it with themselves: Surveys show that before both genders have reached 18, 80 percent of males and 59 percent of females have given masturbation a whirl.

As far as people over 18, the numbers get a bit shady. Some research shows that as many as 92 percent of women “admit” to it, while surveys from Kinsey put that percentage anywhere between 50 and 70.

3. Older women masturbate, too.

Your sex drive just gets more revved up as you get older. A 2010 Kinsey study found that roughly 30 percent of women in relationships between 60 and 69 years of age had “recently” double-clicked their mouse. For those over 70, “solo masturbation was reported by more than half who were in a non-cohabitating relationship, compared to 12.2 percent among married women.”

4. Some countries (though obviously not the prudish U.S.!) encourage daily masturbation for their teenage population.

In 2009, the U.K. government got on the bandwagon with other European nations to encourage teenagers to masturbate at least once a day. Not only was masturbating defined as a “right” in health pamphlets, but it was also touted as helping to reduce STDs and teen pregnancy. Smart thinking!

5. Masturbation wasn’t always taboo.

Why do we love the early Romans? Because they were open about their sexuality! Even as early as the 4th millennium BC, a clay figurine depicted a woman touching herself, and obviously enjoying it. All was great until the early 1700’s when an anonymous pamphlet titled Onania was published and put an end to all the fun.

Calling masturbation a “heinous sin” of “self-pollution,” and depicting archaic devices to prevent this “pollution,” it gave masturbation a bad rap for centuries to come (no pun intended). This mentality continued through the 16th and 17th century, when those who did masturbate were regarded as mentally ill. Over 60 percent of mental and physical illnesses were blamed on masturbation.

Although the 1960s helped turn around some of these ancient views, for some, especially those who are fiercely religious or are my mother, masturbation will never be acceptable. Hey, your loss. So go ahead and touch yourself; you’ll make the Divinyls proud. TC mark

This post originally appeared at YourTango.

YourTango HeartShoosh

I’m Pretty Sure I’m A Fuckgirl (And Like…I’m Okay With It)

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 07:00 PM PST

Sophia Sinclair
Sophia Sinclair

Ahhhhh the fuckboy. We love them, we hate them, we LOVE to hate them.

We make fun of their snapbacks and bro-tanks, of their affinity for Vans and Diplo. We joke that we’d like to see them fall off hoverboards or flat on their face when they get out of their “too-big-to-handle” trucks. We laugh at their attempts at rapping, or how they think because they saw 8 Mile they’re “street” when they clearly grew up in a cul-de-sac. Basically, the fuckboy is the favorite punchline of everyone’s joke.

But…what really is a fuckboy?

Is it simply a style, much like a “basic bitch” is, and we’re just ragging on them because it’s something to do? Is it simply a term we heard once in Top 40 or on Buzzfeed and now we throw it out there to sound like one of the cool kids? Is it just a word we came up with to describe ex-boyfriends that unfortunately moved on first? Or is it deeper than that?

According to the now sort of infamous Vanity Fair article, a fuckboy is a guy who has sex with multiple women, but who subsequently has zero intention of pursuing the relationship beyond anything physical. He’s all wham, bam, “thanks I guess, ma’am” — and that’s all you’re going to get before he’s back on his phone swiping through Tinder, ready to find a new conquest to get onto his clearly from Ikea mattress.

Essentially, orange is the new black and fuckboy is the new asshole. The asshole you love to hate, but love to fuck even more.

So what happens when you look in the mirror after casual relationship after casual relationship, SO many one night stands, and the reflection staring back at you is wearing a cutoff bro tank, tinted aviators, and is currently swiping away on Tinder?

I don’t do relationships. I haven’t been monogamous with another human being since early 2013 and I’m in absolutely no rush to change that. The last thing I made a longterm commitment to was my lease and even 14 months sounded a little unreasonable if you ask me. I size a lot (read: most) people up by my level of attractiveness to them and the likelihood of my ability to sleep with them. I have tried (and succeeded) at getting more than one (or two…or three…or six) of my close friends into bed and it never went further than a high-five.

I realized over the summer that my go-to tactic for hitting on people, specifically (read: exclusively) with men, is to “neg” them. If you haven’t heard of negging, it’s essentially when you give backhanded compliments or lightly insult people in order to make them desperate for your attention. Worst part about negging? It fucking works. I once successfully picked up a stranger by calling him Dora the Explorer all night because of his backpack he was openly wearing in public. And he tried to date me. Not just fuck me. DATE me.

I own my sexuality and my body. I don’t think I’m ugly — not even a little. I also drink like a fish (alcohol and Amazon Prime Video are my two favorite hobbies), make zero apologies about trying out trends (I’m currently wearing a suspender skirt and Birkenstocks), and generally just do whatever I want if it feels good and I WANT to do it.

And you know what? I’m not sorry.

The only thing I am hesitant about, with the intent of being truly transparent, is the residual societal guilt placed upon being a woman who owns her sexuality and her preferences.

I’m not SUPPOSED to admit that I like to hit it and quit it. I’m not supposed to send a “u up?” text even though I don’t really give a shit about Chase’s day; I just want him to go down on me. I not supposed to enjoy being on my own. I’m supposed to want to commit, supposed to ask, “What are we?”, and supposed to look for the hidden meanings between the lines of drunken soliloquies given at 3 AM after we’re done climbing each other like trees.

But I don’t. I really, really don’t.

I guess there’s one other thing I’m slightly hesitant about, since we’re being honest.

Seriously though! Whether he’s the guy who rides a goddamn IO Hawk and looks like a tool, or she’s the girl unapologetically asking you to leave because she has an early morning, or whether those images are reversed. The fact that they aren’t the picture perfect human that you idealized them to be doesn’t mean that they’re just 1000% a dick. They may have dick-ish tendencies, sure. I’ll give you that. But they still call their grandmothers, still probably get emotional at the videos of dogs greeting their soldier owners when those owners come home, and send thank you cards for birthday gifts just. like. you.

But I digress.

The point is, or the point I’m trying to get at rather, is that I guess…maybe I am a fuckboy. Or a fuckgirl.

I sleep with random people in favor of being in a relationship. I send flirty texts to try and get reactions from people. I openly make fun of strangers to try and make them desperate for my attention. I think I’m pretty hot most days. I also think I’m pretty hysterical. I own white Vans and Doc Martens and am trying to figure out how to make the vintage snapback I bought in Brooklyn work with my current haircut. My current Tinder profile has a serious lack of smiling, and my bio absolutely says, “I’m never going to follow you on Instagram.”

My name is Kendra, and I’m pretty sure I’m a fuckgirl.

I’m pretty sure I’m a fuckgirl, but I also have a pretty fucking sick life.

And if you feel the need to judge me for it, or label me a bad person because of said life, I may be the aforementioned fuckgirl but that makes you more of an asshole than I will ever be. TC mark

The Best Compliment Someone Could Give You, Based On Your Zodiac Sign

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 06:15 PM PST

Jesse Herzog
Jesse Herzog


(March 21st to April 19th)

“There is no way you won’t be incredibly successful in life.”


(April 20th to May 21st)

“You’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met.”


(May 22nd to June 21st)

“You are a deeply creative genius.”


(June 22nd to July 22nd)

“You love me better than anyone else is capable of.”


(July 23rd to August 22nd)

“I admire you.”


(August 23rd to September 22nd)

“You’re so smart, it’s hard to keep up with your intellect.”


(September 23rd to October 22nd)

“I don’t know how I’d figure out any of my problems if it weren’t for you.”


(October 23rd to November 22nd)

“I could never have too much of you.”*


(November 23rd to December 21st)

“There is never a boring day when you’re around.”


(December 22nd to January 20th)

“You are the most intelligent and adept partner I could ask for.”


(January 21st to February 18th)

“There is more good in the world because you were born.”


(February 19th to March 20th)

“You’re much deeper than most people.” TC mark

*In the case of Scorpio this is a bit of a trick question because every compliment you give a Scorpio is the best compliment you could give them.

30 People Reveal How They Really Feel About The Person They Lost Their Virginity To

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 06:00 PM PST

Found on AskReddit.


"She’s cray cray now. She was cray cray then, too, but now she has a baby and spends her days anyway trolling the bars, asking for guys to not use protection whenever possible. Unrelated, kinda, she thinks dinosaurs didn't exist. Unrelated to her religious beliefs. Thinks it’s a scam."


"He ended up trying to kill himself later and was placed into a home for troubled teens. He seems to be doing much better now. I must’ve been awful in bed."


"She charges for sex now instead of just giving it away back then. Got it for free, so that's good."


"She’s sucking dick under the El to buy heroin. Lol she wasn’t like that in high school."


"She has herpes, shoots up heroin, and lives in a trailer park with her scumbag boyfriend. She calls me on every birthday of mine crying wishing I’d take her back. She was amazing when we first met; she was my whole world then I found out she was cheating on me. I puked on the way to her house I was so nervous to break up with her. Now I can’t hold a serious relationship and can’t trust girls very well."


"I’m hoping he stopped raping people, but I blocked his number and a lot of things about that day, so I don’t know. He might have been deployed."


"She’s a lesbian now. I like to think I did such a good job, I scared her off cock for life."


"Oh how I miss dear Beth; it was the summer of ’08, her parents were out of town, I’ll never forget that ‘Holy shit, I’m having sex’ moment. I thought she was crying from joy when we finished…I mean, I know I certainly was. Well, Beth is now Ben."


"It happened like 5 years ago and I moved on. The last email I received from him was frantically asking if I’d slept with his dad, because he was an evil man and would do something like that to hurt him. That was the most recent; he’d been sending me progressively more and more creepy emails as the years went by. He’d also been institutionalized for attacking his parents at some point as well…so, yeah."


"She used to be a dancer, ballet and all. She’s now a lesbian, overweight, and living at home."


"She became an individual who cheats on everyone she dates. She was a virgin at the time as well(supposedly) and I guess the dick was so good she had to get more!"


"She moved to America. Few years later, hung herself. Only note she left said to tell me she loved me. It fucked me up for a very long time."


"She became a hippie, followed Phish, moved to South America to work on a farm, grew dreadlocks, moved to Austin Texas now works as a barista or something. I became an alcoholic in that time. Fun."


"She (33 years old) has I think a couple kids from a previous relationship, got into stripping for a little while because a lack of a means to find a decent job. I think she ended up quitting stripping, and she has a boyfriend now with a 20-year-old kid, and she seems to be happy for the most part. We ended up running into each other at a mutual friend’s wedding a couple years ago and caught up with each other and joked about when we used to date, and the nightmare of the night we took each other’s virginity."


"He was run over by a bread truck at 4am in October 2012. They didn’t release the funeral details until after the funeral. To clarify, it was an Ace Bakery truck in Ontario. The driver didn’t know he hit him until he was on the way back and the road was closed and cops were everywhere. His family is super-Russian and none of us could remember their last names (he has his fathers last name and the rest of the family went by something else) so we couldn’t call them about the funeral. He had moved since we all last saw him. We all wanted to go and find out what happened. Funeral details were posted the day after the funeral. I suspect it was a suicide. He had a troubled childhood."


"She got preggers and married to the guy after me. Her wedding photos had her 8 months along in a pretty, expensive-looking white dress. The groom was wearing cargo shorts with a short-sleeve flannel shirt that was unbuttoned so it would show off his black metal death undershirt. A few years later she started emailing me boob pics with a sob story about how he drained the bank account and took their only car to Oklahoma to go on meth binges…for the third time. I didn’t care or believe her because she was insane and a liar. She lied to me about being pregnant once, told her friends that I beat her, and she stole my Xbox and set it on fire. Also, a lot of her ‘close’ friends started dying in strange accidents just after we originally broke up. About 6 in a two-month time frame. Friends that I, nor anyone else, had ever heard of or met before. Pretty sure she made those people up and killed them with her mind."


"Guess this was 10 years ago. Man. She had a perfect body. The most amazing booty I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are still to this day. Almost Photoshopped, too good to be true, beautiful. We lost our V to each other in front of my Christmas tree :). Then she dumped me for another guy down the road. I eventually found the gym and she proceeded to gain literally 100lbs. We hung out a few times during both of our transitions. She blamed her birth control for her weight gain. I blamed the 3 donuts she’d eat for breakfast. Now she’s engaged and hitting the gym trying to lose weight. I’m happy for her. Still has the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen. No exaggeration."


"He was a hardcore anti-establishment heavy-metal thrasher with sick abs, a shaved head, and a pacifist. Now he’s a JAG officer. Fucking weird what 10 years does to people."


"She now spends every second day high or drunk while attending a great university that her parents pay for, no questions asked. Even when we were together she wasn’t a great person. She struggled with drugs and mental health but never sent for help. Ultimately she broke up with me out of the blue the week before my high school prom, so of course I went alone while she scooped up some poor chump for the night. I had attended the same university for a while but had to leave due to money issues. Makes me a little bitter that she’s there on daddy’s dime just to party and nothing else."


"We ended up dated for roughly 4 years and right before I got all serious about marrying her, found out she was cheating (thanks to some amazing friends looking out for me). She was extremely manipulative and denied everything, and after the very nasty breakup she deleted every social media account she had and all of our mutual friends haven’t heard from her since. I didn’t dodge a bullet, I dodged a goddamn missile."


"She had a kid with one of my 'friends.' Not really a friend but a guy who was friends with my friends. Was. They both got into harder types of drugs. They always go to raves and parties, then complain about how hard life is and how they don’t have money. They lost custody of the kid and her mom now takes care of the child."


"She cheated on me with an Olympian, let’s call him Jimmy Rustles. I threatened the Olympian via AIM messages—" Fight me bro”, “I’m gonna beat your ass, you no good rotten nincompoop," “You done goofed” and even though these were empty threats, it still dissuaded him from dating her. ‘If you were in love with this crazy guy, you are crazy by association. Thanks, but no thanks'. I moved on, but evidently she was furious that I 'ruined her blossoming romance with the handsome Jimmy Rustles.' Since Jimmy was not bogged down into a relationship, he was able to maintain his composure and focus all of his energy into his Olympic training. Jimmy Rustles went on to win two gold medals later that year. After having a mini breakdown over losing her opportunity with Jimmy Rustles, she became fascinated with the human mind and began studying psychology. She is now a psychiatrist and a married mother of two children. Moral of this story? By making emotionally charged threats to a stranger on AIM, I was able to win two gold medals for the United States and open a psychiatric practice in a prominent medical facility. YOU’RE WELCOME AMERICA."


"We’ve been married for 15 years. She falls asleep on the couch most nights and I have to help her to bed. We have an incredible son, a tiny house and a huge garden. Our music tastes differ dramatically, and that can sometimes make road trips a little rough, but otherwise I think she’s happy to have taken my cherry. I’m sure glad she did."


"She got married to a guy she had dated for years. They got into meth together and started doing cam shows online to support the meth habit. They had a bad fight and he wrecked her car into the house, so she finally filed for divorce. She’s apparently clean now working as a nurse in the metro area I live in."


"I was fairly adventurous with my drug use when we were dating. She absolutely despised it. Eventually we decided to go our separate ways. After we broke up, I fooled around with some of her friends. We drifted apart and went on with our lives. I cooled down with my drug use and ended up just being a perennial pothead. She started to do the same at first, despite being so against it when we were together. She called me about 6 years later, begging for a lift to her boyfriend’s house from a sketchy situation in the next town over. She was dressed like one of those girls who spends most of her life at festivals. We talked and flirted as always, kind of like when we were in high school. I dropped her off and that was the last time we talked. She died of a heroin overdose a year later. I was cleaning my desk the other night and found a spot where she had carved her name. As much as I don’t like to show my emotions, I couldn’t help but feel depressed seeing it, and wondering what went wrong. I told my friends and family that I was fine after the funeral. Put on a good face, and never really went into detail. This is the most I’ve ever opened up about it. I guess it’s easier to open up anonymously than it is to those who know you best. Its cathartic in a way."


"She got real crazy. Like REAL crazy. Like pretending-to-have-seizures crazy. We broke up and I filed an order of protection. She got me beat up by her friends. I never spoke to her again. See her at Walmart sometimes. Guess she’s got a kid and a new guy now. Good for her. Moral: Never fuck Michelle."


"When I first met her at 13 years old, she was a sweet, intelligent, loving girl through and through, but also extremely broken and flawed due to a tumultuous upbringing. She became my best friend after a while, and it eventually turned into dating. We had a short and fiery relationship. Now she’s a cocaine addict who works odd jobs and dates an ex-friend who is a fellow drug addict. It really sucks how some people grow up in situations so fucked-up that it ruins them."


"She's married to some redneck in the most redneck town in redneck FL. She’s now a redneck who enjoys to do redneck activities including redneck hunting, redneck fishing, and redneck drinking. Oh, and she still enjoys anal."


"He got fat. Wait. So did I. Shit."


"Married her 21 years ago. She’s sitting next to me telling me I’m too old for this Reddit shit." TC mark

Why The Saddest Day Of Your Twenties Is The Day You Move Away From Your Best Friend

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 05:00 PM PST

Abo Ngalonkulu
Abo Ngalonkulu

A little less than a year ago, I moved out of the apartment I shared with my best friend.

This wasn't the first time we'd lived apart – we'd both done brief stints abroad, short-term leases with significant others and a smattering of alternate living arrangements that forced us to make late-night Skype calls outside night clubs or inside parked vehicles in winter. We'd survived the first seventeen years of our lives without knowing each other and by the time we hit our mid-twenties, it seemed as though parting ways was simply in our cards.

After all, she had community ties on the West Coast. And I had a brand new job offer on the East. It simply made sense for us to start doing things separately – we were both full-grown adults with full-time jobs and salaries. It's not as though we couldn't handle life alone.

But no matter how adult-like you feel, there is a certain desperate sense of finality to the day that you part ways with your best friend – knowing that you probably won't find your way back to each other.

Of course you know you're going to keep in touch. There'll be tearful long-distance phone calls and impulse plane tickets purchased. There'll be reunions that you plan and count down to and there will be impromptu visits that you don't. Your friendship won't die out over the strain of long distance. And yet something important ends that day.

When you part ways with the friend who's seen you through so many of your most significant transitions, you can't help but feel like the best era of your life is coming to a close.

After all, what kind of life is worth living when you don't have your best friend by your side?

Who do you call up at the end of a long, shitty day to order Thai food and lament over your problems to? Who do you stumble back home with from the dance club when you're drunk at 3am and really much too old for all of this shit? Who do you go to when your heart breaks or your will cracks or you fuck things up in a way that simply cannot be fixed without the care and compassion of the one person who knows you best in the world?

How are you supposed to tackle life as an adult without your best friend by your side?

I'm inclined to argue that there are a lot of scary moments in your twenties. There are breakups and health scares and job losses and blows that you do not see coming. There is a lot we have to transition and struggle through.

But there's nothing quite as tough as realizing that you're going to have to struggle through the remainder of your most confusing decade without your number one source of support.

Because no matter how well you keep in touch, no matter how close-knit you remain, it will never again be quite the same as it was.

The era of you-and-them has ended. There's no more all-nighters when one of you is going through a crisis. There's no more long, rambling walks that lead you astray both physically and conversationally. There's no more wordless days spent lounging in pyjamas where you don’t need to talk to enjoy time spent alone with each other.

The day you move away from your best friend is the day the greatest love affair of your young life truly ends.

And yet maybe that doesn't have to be a sad thing.

Because the thing about having a best friend when you're young and growing into yourself is that it's a blessing not everyone gets.

Not everyone meets that one person who just gets them. Not everyone grows up with an unquestioning teammate by their side. Not everyone truly experiences the strength and intimacy and intensity of having a best friend who feels more like a brother or sister. Who feels more like an extension of yourself.

And so on the day that you have to move away from your best friend for what seems like the final time, take a moment to appreciate having had them.

Take a moment to appreciate the fact that out of all the transitions you've had to face and challenges you've had to overcome in the past however-many-years you've known them, you were lucky enough to have had someone by your side for every single one of them.

Instead of lamenting over the end of an era, be grateful that you had it at all. Be grateful for the memories that nobody can ever take away from you.

And be grateful that you found the kind of friend who makes parting ways so damn difficult at all. TC mark

15 Wildly Successful People Who Completely Failed Before Achieving Their Dream

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 04:00 PM PST

1. JK Rowling

Twitter / SBTV News
Twitter / SBTV News
“It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all, in which case you have failed by default.” — JK Rowling

JK Rowling was living off of welfare when she wrote the first Harry Potter book. Even after the draft was completed, however, she struggled to find a publisher who’d be willing to take a chance on it. She struggled with depression, was a single mother, and had no idea where to go next. But, finally, at Bloomsbury publishing, an editor’s daughter got ahold of the manuscript and begged to be able to read the whole thing.

In 1997 the first Harry Potter book was published. In 2004, JK Rowling became the first billionaire author.

2. Marilyn Monroe

Flickr / Siddhesh Mangela
Flickr / Siddhesh Mangela
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” — Marilyn Monroe

One of Monroe’s first agencies turned her down, and recommended she find a job in the secretarial field because she’d never succeed as a model.

3. Thomas Edison

Wikimedia / Louis Bachrach
Wikimedia / Louis Bachrach
“Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.” — Thomas Edison

Thomas Edison’s teachers openly told him that he was “too stupid to learn anything.” He probably began to think they were right when he set off to build the world’s first viable lightbulb, but 10,000 tries later, he finally nailed it and that’s why we all have electric light today!

4. Stephen King

Twitter / Jon Winokur
Twitter / Jon Winokur
“The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there… and still on your feet.” — Stephen King

You couldn’t pay anyone to take Stephen King’s first manuscript.

“We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell,” one publisher told him.

King was eventually driven to the point where he threw the entire typed-out text into the trash can. His wife retrieved it for him, and urged him to keep trying. He did.

5. Henry Ford

Wikimedia / Newsweek
Wikimedia / Newsweek
“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” — Henry Ford

Henry Ford got financial backing for his first automobile company in 1900. Production of his new vehicles was taking longer than expected, however, and his investors dumped him after only a year and a half.  He received another chance a few years later, but once again failed to produce a viable automobile. Henry Ford was down and out.

However, he eventually received backing to try a third time. It was this company that produced the Ford Model-A, the forerunner to the Model-T, and all other Ford vehicles to come over the next century.

6. Bill Gates

Flickr / OnInnovation
Flickr / OnInnovation
“Success is a lousy teacher. It seduces smart people into thinking they can’t lose.” — Bill Gates

A college drop-out and owner of a failed business, nobody would have expected young Bill Gates to go anywhere.

He eventually tried starting a new company called “Microsoft” and the rest is, as they say, history.

7. Colonel Sanders

Wikimedia / Edgy01
Wikimedia / Edgy01
“You got to like your work. You have got to like what you are doing, you have got to be doing something worthwhile so you can like it – because it is worthwhile, that it makes a difference, don’t you see?” — Colonel Sanders

Sanders’ early career was plagued with failure. He was a failure tire salesman, the gas station he managed closed during the Great Depression, and his North Carolina storefront had burned to the ground. Even at the age of 65 his one successful chicken restaurant was going out of business because of a new highway route.

Despite all this, he never ever quit. He began franchising out his chicken, and eventually made a fortune with “Kentucky Fried Chicken.”

8. Will Smith

Flickr / Walmart
Flickr / Walmart
“Throughout life people will make you mad, disrespect you and treat you bad. Let God deal with the things they do, cause hate in your heart will consume you too.” — Will Smith

Will Smith owed the IRS over 2.8 million dollars in 1989. Seeing his finances fall apart around him, he desperately looked for a new avenue to support himself. He found it when he was signed as the Fresh Prince.

9. Steven Spielberg

Wikimedia / DoD
Wikimedia / DoD
“You have many years ahead of you to create the dreams that we can’t even imagine dreaming. You have done more for the collective unconscious of this planet than you will ever know.” — Steven Spielberg

Because his grades didn’t hit the mark, Speilberg was rejected from the Southern California School of Cinematic Arts not once, not twice, but on three separate occasions.

Decades later, he is now a trustee at the university.

10. Albert Einstein

Wikimedia / World-Telegram photo
Wikimedia / World-Telegram photo
“Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value.” — Albert Einstein

Einstein didn’t speak much more than a word until he was nine years old, causing many adults and teachers to assume he was mentally slow. He was expelled from school for his disrespectful and rebellious attitude, and was denied entrance to another.

Today his name is synonymous with “genius.”

11. Michael Jordan

Wikimedia / Gapvenezia
Wikimedia / Gapvenezia
“I can accept failure, everyone fails at something. But I can’t accept not trying.” — Michael Jordan

Jordan was rejected from his high school basketball varsity team because he just didn’t make the cut. He worked up from there, however, and eventually became one of the best basketball players…ever.

12. Dr. Seuss

Wikimedia / Al Ravenna
Wikimedia / Al Ravenna
“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” — Dr. Seuss

Over twenty publishers refused to accept Dr. Seuss’ first children’s book. He know has published dozens upon dozens and is a household name for anyone with kids, or for anyone who was once a kid themselves.

13. Oprah Winfrey

Flickr / Alan Light
Flickr / Alan Light
“Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.” — Oprah Winfrey

Oprah was fired from her first anchoring job because the station thought she got “too emotionally invested in her stories.”

14. Orville and Wilbur Wright

Wikimedia / John T. Daniels
Wikimedia / John T. Daniels
“The airplane stays up because it doesn’t have the time to fall.” — Orville Wright

Pretty much everyone told them what they wanted to do was impossible, and the skeptics were proven right every single time. Until that one fateful day at Kitty Hawk when they weren’t.

15. Harrison Ford

Wikimedia / Mireille Ampilhac
Wikimedia / Mireille Ampilhac
“I’ve always been somewhere down from the top, so I’ve never had to suffer being knocked off the top.” — Harrison Ford

After his first movie role, a producer told Harrison Ford that he should get out of the show biz, because he’d never have success there. He eventually began working part-time as a carpenter to pay all his bills, which sustained him long enough to meet a young filmmaker named George Lucas. TC mark

9 Urban Legends That Scared The Sh*t Out Of You As A Kid

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 03:15 PM PST

The clown statue

Shawn Tron
Shawn Tron

A teenage girl had been hired to babysit for a family in a neighboring town. The family was wealthy and the house was large. She was to look after two young children whilst their parents went out to celebrate their anniversary. Before the parents left they gave the girl their mobile number in case of any emergencies. They also advised that she should keep the children out of their collection room, which they said was filled with various statues of importance to them.

The parents left and the babysitter proceeded to give the children their supper. After letting them watch some cartoons she took them upstairs and put them to bed.

She settled into the living room and began flicking through channels. After about half an hour she heard giggling coming from down the hall. Rolling her eyes she went to find the source of the noise, as she expected she found the children out of bed, playing. To her dismay they were playing in the collection room, which to her surprise was filled with statues of clowns. Like most people, she enjoyed the circus but this room was unnerving even for the biggest circus lover.

Asking the children why they had gotten out of bed she scanned the room and shivered. The children laughed and pointed to a life sized clown sitting in a rocking chair. Her skin prickled. Walking over to the children she ushered them out of the room. As she walked, she felt as though the eyes of the clown were following her. Walking down the corridor she told the children that they are not supposed to be in that room. “We were playing with the clown, he’s funny” they replied. She put them to bed and returned downstairs.

She decided that it was best to inform the parents that the children had been playing in the collection room, just in case they had moved or broken something. She called the parents and told them that she had found the children playing with the life sized clown in the collection room. The voice on the other side of the line lowered, “What life sized clown? we don’t have one”. Confused she walked to the room and looked around the door, sure enough there was the clown watching the room from it’s chair.

“There is definitely a life sized clown sitting in the rocking chair” she replied. The mother’s voice sounded panicked “Get the children and go to the neighbor’s house NOW, we’re calling the police and will meet you there”.

Immediately running upstairs she got the children and ran to the neighbour’s house. A few minutes later a police car arrived and the policemen ran inside the family’s house. Watching from the garden, she saw the police marching a clown down the path in handcuffs.

When the parents returned they were told that a crazed prisoner had escaped jail a few days before with the intention of adding to his list of victims. They had found a large kitchen knife in his clothes.

Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the lights?

Surian Soosay
Surian Soosay

Two girls that went to the same college were matched together as roommates. Kate was a socialite who loved to go out to parties and loved guys even more, Jen was a shying wallflower who kept to her studies and had a small group of friends.

The two got along most of the time but they didn’t see eye to eye when it came to visitors staying over in their room. That night, there was a dorm party on the floor above that they had been invited to. Jen had quickly made her excuses to not go whilst Kate, never one to miss out on a good party, had been planning her outfit since they’d been invited.

After the last classes of the day, both girls were in the room. Kate had music playing as she was getting ready for the party and Jen was in her books, studying. A rapid knock on the door alerted them both, almost as soon as the knocking had stopped the door burst open and a group of girls fell in the room laughing. Kate’s friends had come round to get ready as a group.

Rolling her eyes, Jen picked up her books and declared that she was retreating to the library to continue her studies. Jen sat herself in her favorite comfy chair in the library and began reading her books. Students came and went throughout the night and when she finally closed her books it was close to 2am. Shocked that the time had passed so quickly, she gathered her things and began walking back to her room.

As she approached her room door she could hear people inside, sighing, she opened the door and left the light off. She’d gotten an eyeful on plenty of occasions when she’d interrupted Kate and her ‘date’ getting amorous in bed. “Nice to know you enjoyed yourself” Jen said. The motions stopped briefly and then carried on again, annoyed that her room mate was ignoring her she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. With the noises carrying on she turned on her MP3 player and turned the volume up loud. Quickly, she fell asleep.

The next morning she woke to find her MP3 player tangled on her pillow. Picking it up to unravel it, she turned over to scold Kate for her amorous actions the night before. As she turned over she dropped her music player and screamed. Kate was lying in a pool of blood with her sheets over the floor. On the wall, written in blood were the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the lights?”

The furry gown

Look Catalog
Look Catalog

During summer break, two best friends: Jenny and Laura decided to have a girl’s night in. Jenny’s parents were on holiday for a week so they had their sleepover at her house. During the night they watched DVD’s, put on face masks and had a good time.

At about 11:00pm Jenny decided that they should tell some scary stories to put them in the mood for a horror film. Although Laura wasn’t a massive fan of all things scary, she was having a nice evening so she joined in regardless. After telling a few ghost stories they flicked through the channels on the TV to see if there were any horror films playing. They scanned through the many channels pausing briefly to see what was on each. On the news channel there was a report on an escaped inmate from the criminally insane prison in the next county.

“That’s fitting for tonight isn’t it?” joked Jenny, “Maybe we should grab some bats and go lock all the doors”.

“Haha Jenny” Laura replied, warily “We should probably do that actually, best to be safe”.

“Ok, you do upstairs and I’ll do down here. We’ll meet in my room and get our pajamas on” Jenny laughed.

So the girls went round the house locking all the doors and making sure the house was secure. Laura arrived at the bedroom first. Finding her overnight bag, she changed into her night clothes.

After about 10 minutes she began to wonder where Jenny was. Walking over to the door she listened out for Jenny locking doors. What she heard when she got there made her heart stop. A dragging sound was coming down the hallway, muffled cries following. Running over to the wardrobe she climbed in and watched through the crack in the door. Seeing a shadow in the doorway, she held her breath, her heart almost beating out of her chest.

The bedroom door burst open and a very healthy looking Jenny jumped into the room laughing. Falling out of the wardrobe with fright, Laura gave Jenny her most annoyed look and threw a book a her. “Thanks for that” she said, “I’ve just aged 20 years”.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist” laughed Jenny. Throwing the book back playfully, she changed into her pajamas and took her dressing gown out of the wardrobe. “Do you like it?” Jenny asked, “My parents bought me it as a way of saying ‘sorry we’re going on holiday without you'”.

The dressing gown was floor length and was covered in luscious black fur.

“It’s not real fur, is it?” Laura questioned.

“Noo, we’re not that rich” Jenny joked, wrapping the furry gown around herself.

“So what shall we do..” Laura was cut off mid sentence by a muffled bang downstairs. Looking straight towards Jenny she asked, “What have you set up now?”.

Looking puzzled Jenny replied, “Nothing, I’m not stupid enough to try to scare you twice in one night”. Creeping over to the door together, they listened for another sound. Certain that Jenny was just pulling another prank, Laura pulled open the door and shouted “Oooh, so scary”.

The silence was broken with another bang. Suddenly the house was in darkness. Pulling Laura back into the bedroom Jenny whimpered. “I promise that it isn’t me, I’m right here, how could I be doing this?”.

Grabbing her phone for light, Laura illuminated the room. Seeing the look on Jenny’s face made her instantly scared. A scuffling noise pierced the silence. Panicking, Laura instantly dialed the police number on her phone. As the phone began to ring, it made a beeping noise and died.

“Great” she whispered, “What are we going to do?”.

“My phone is downstairs, I’ll creep down and get it” Jenny replied, pulling on her shoes.

“WHAT? No way! What if someone’s down there?” Laura cried.

“It’s my house, I know every creaky stair and floorboard, I’ll be back in a minute” Jenny didn’t wait for Laura’s response and she crept out the door.

Heart pounding in her chest, Laura looked out the window to see if she could jump out. ‘Nope, way too high’ she thought. Before she could return to the bed, a loud noise startled her. Almost in tears, she had no idea what to do. Hearing heavy footsteps downstairs, she hoped that it was Jenny.

After about 10 minutes, Jenny hadn’t returned, so Laura decided to go look for her. Creeping out the room, she tried to make as little noise as possible. She’d been to Jenny’s house hundreds of times before, so she knew which stairs creaked and which didn’t. When she reached the ground floor she heard a shuffling noise. Getting to her hands and knees, she began crawling along the corridor, making sure not to make any noise.

She reached the living room, where Jenny had last had her phone. Crawling along to the sofas she put her hand out to feel for Jenny. “Jenny, are you in here?” she whispered. Making her way to the armchair she stopped. She could feel a presence in the room. Reaching out she felt the welcome texture of the furry dressing gown. “Thank god Jenny”. Standing up she groaned “So this was all a trick. Nice. Well you scared me, again”.

When she didn’t receive an answer, she pushed Jenny playfully. Again no answer. Suddenly the electricity flashed back on and the sight that met Laura was horrific. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she was staring straight at Jenny. Jenny was still wearing her new fluffy gown, but all that was visible of her body was the bloody stump of her neck. Her head was nowhere to be found.

The police found that Jenny had not in fact locked all the doors downstairs. She had been playing along, not really believing that her house was at risk. The back door was wide open and a bloodstained, blunt axe was left on the kitchen counter.


Jay Cross
Jay Cross

A woman is driving home from a late meeting at work. Turning up the radio when a song comes on that she likes, she is carefree and starts to sing along.

It starts to rain heavily and she sighs, putting on her wipers. After about 10 minutes a car appears behind her and she thinks nothing more of it. Suddenly the car following her flashes its lights and drives up close behind her car. Opening her window, she waves her hand assuming they want to pass. Instead of passing, the car falls back.

A little confused, the woman rolls her eyes and continues on her way. A few minutes later the car flashes it’s lights again and comes right up to her bumper, almost crashing into her car. “JACKASS” she shouts, speeding up a little to get away from them.

Getting annoyed now, she isn’t surprised when the car comes right back up behind her flashing their lights and beeping this time. The car gets very close and the woman starts to get worried. She pulls over to see if they pass and instead of doing this, they pull up behind her. Panicking, she drives off fast with the hope of losing them. Only 5 minutes from home, she sighs relieved that they’ve left her alone.

All of a sudden the car screeches up behind her and speeds next to her, she looks into the car and the man is signaling her to pull over. Thankfully, she gets to her house just in time and without taking her stuff, she exits the car and runs inside, locking the door and immediately calls the police to tell them someone has followed her home.

After hanging up she peers out the window and sees the man getting out of his car. He starts to approach her car slowly holding what she thought looked like a golf club. Puzzled, she goes to her front door and as she opens it, she saw the man dragging a figure out of the back seat of her car. At this moment the police arrive and handcuff the intruder, taking an axe from the back of her car.

It turns out that the car behind her had seen the man raising the axe to kill her and they were trying to warn her about this. Every time they flashed their lights, the figure lowered back into the seats.

There are other various takes on this tale, these include:
The woman sees that she needs petrol and pulls into a petrol station. The attendant sees the man in the back of her car and tells her that there is a problem with her card and that she needs to go inside. The woman is scared of the attendant because (in the majority of the stories that feature this attendant) he looks weird and rough. However, he saves her life.

Sometimes it is told as the woman driving away from the petrol station, scared of the attendant. She meets an untimely end in this version, with the murderer in the back seat killing her.

The babysitter

Maxwell GS
Maxwell GS

A teenage girl looking for some extra cash, decides to take a babysitting job from the next town over. The parents are attending a friend’s party and leave their 2 young children with the teenager.

The girl plays with the children, gives them their supper and then puts them to bed. Pleased to get such well mannered children she returns downstairs and settles down to watch a film for the night. About an hour into her film a shrill ring pierces the silence. Aware that the children are sleeping she answers the phone quickly in order to not wake them. She assumes that it’s the parents calling to check on their children, however, instead of the voice she is expecting she is met with heavy breathing. Assuming that it’s the wrong number, she hangs up. As she begins to walk away the phone rings again.

“What?” she asks, irritated. “I’m close” a hoarse voice whispered to her. Puzzled, she demands to know who it is but the caller hangs up.

She returns to her film in the next room, trying to forget the weird call. About 15 minutes later, the phone rings again. The teenager would rather not answer it again, but she really didn’t want the children to wake, so she answered it again.

“I’m closer, and I’m about to get you”, the voice laughed. Getting scared, the teenager hangs up and immediately calls the police.

The police are unsympathetic and tell her it’s probably a prank but they will monitor the line if it will ease her mind. Instead of going back to her film, she stays by the phone, waiting for another call. She doesn’t have to wait for long and sure enough, it’s the mystery caller again. This time he laughs hysterically and tells her it won’t be long. She throws the phone back into the receiver and her heart pounds.

Almost immediately the phone rings again and she is met with the voice of a panicked man “The calls are coming from inside the house, GET OUT NOW”. “I’ll get the children and go” she says, panicking. “NO, GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!” he demands.

Without hanging up, she runs to the front garden and is met with 2 police cars, the police men run straight into the house and upstairs. They return empty handed and with a sickly look on their faces. “The children are dead, no sign of the killer” they state, solemnly. Another officer exits the house with an evidence bag, which contains a bloody knife.

Blue baby blue

Daniella Urdinlaz
Daniella Urdinlaz

Poor Baby Blue never had a chance. Born into the world by a psychotic mother, he was destined to be a child of legend. Nobody knows his real name, only that his mother killed him with a piece of shattered mirror.

The ritual of Baby Blue, not unlike Bloody Mary, is set in the confines of a bathroom and you'll need a mirror to try it (if you dare).

I suggest you take a friend if your heart is set on trying this out but make sure they know what they're in for.

Enter the bathroom and fog up the mirror (breathe on it, turn on the hot water – however you like), once this is complete you should write the words "Baby Blue" on the mirror.

Step two is turning off the light (be brave, you have a friend with you!) and waiting for a few moments. Once you've waited for about a minute you should hold out your arms, just like you were carrying a baby in them.

You should then feel the weight of a baby on your arms, don't freak out – keep him held safe and after a while you should pass him to your friend. Mind not to drop him, he doesn't take kindly to this and will give you a little scratch. If you pick him up and drop him a few more times (who would be so clumsy?), the last thing you'll ever see is the mirror shattering in front of you (your friend might want to run at this point, you're a lost cause).

A second version of this legend has a slightly different ritual:

Enter the bathroom with the lights already turned off. Stand in front of the mirror and say the words "Blue Baby" thirteen times, over and over again. Whilst reciting these words you should rock your arms back and forth as if you were holding a baby.

Once you've finished the thirteenth chant, a baby will appear in your arms and give you a little scratch. At this point, I suggest you drop the baby and run because not long behind him is his aforementioned psychotic mother. She will scream at you from the mirror "GIVE ME BACK BY BABY" and attempt to have you meet the same fate as her little treasure.

Humans can lick too

Screen Shot 2016-03-03 at 12.45.07 PM

A 13 year old girl was left home alone one night when her parents went out for a meal with friends. The parents thought that she was too old for a babysitter so they decided she could stay home alone as long as she locked all the windows and doors as soon as they left. Usually she would have objected to being left alone, however her parents had bought her a beautiful German Shepherd dog just weeks before. The reason for such a gift was because the girl had been suffering from nightmares for years, having the dog sleeping in her bedroom helped her feel at ease.

When her parents left, she went around the house making sure that all of the windows and doors were locked, as per her orders. She found that the basement window would not lock, so she locked the door leading into the house instead and thought nothing more about it.

The time was 8pm and she was to go to bed at 10pm, this was enough time to watch a film so she put on one of her favorites and settled down to watch it. The dog came and lay by her feet for the length of the film.

Feeling happy that she’d coped well with being alone at night, she decided she better head up to bed. Turning off all of the the lights on her way upstairs she saw nothing unusual in her home. Once upstairs she brushed her teeth and changed into her nightwear. She snuggled under her duvet and dropped her hand to the floor to feel for her dog. Sure enough he assured her of his presence with a loving lick, she smiled and drifted to sleep.

In the midst of the night she was woken by a dripping sound, rolling her eyes she assumed she hadn’t turned the tap off properly in the bathroom. Trying to ignore it, she felt for the dog and received the lick that she was used to receiving and fell back to sleep. Only about half an hour later she woke again to the dripping and annoyed that it kept waking her she slumped to the bathroom to turn the tap off properly. Leaving the light off in order to not blind her eyes that were still half asleep, she tightened the tap and returned to her room. Feeling for her dog, she was greeted by the usual lick.

Tremendously tired, she fell back to sleep and didn’t wake until her parents returned home. The lights from the car shone through her bedroom window and she was pleased that they were home. One thing shocked her though, the dripping sound was still relentlessly going. Worried that perhaps the tap had broken, she walked to the bathroom to investigate fully. She turned on the light and her scream pierced the silence.

Her parents ran up the stairs to investigate her troubled scream and they just stood staring into the bathroom. There was their beautiful dog, skinned and hanging in the shower. It’s blood dripping to the floor. On the mirror was the words “Humans can lick too, my dear”…

Tap tap tap

Screen Shot 2016-03-03 at 12.40.58 PM

Katie and Joe had treated themselves to a lavish dinner for their 1st anniversary. They had been friends since childhood and always found ways to keep themselves amused despite knowing each other for so long. Knowing that traffic was extremely likely on the normal route home, Joe decided to take the deserted long way home, through a dense forested area.

After about half an hour the car slowed to a stop. Looking over at Joe, Katie knew he was being mischievous and gave him a stern look. “Come on Joe, I want to go home, don’t you start” she scolded.

“Aww, come on! There’s nobody around” he grinned.

He leant in for a kiss but Katie pushed him away, “I don’t think so, this may be our anniversary but I’m not about to get it on in your car” she laughed.

“Oh fine, but you owe me” he huffed, jokingly.

Turning the ignition to awaken the car once more, Joe looked puzzled when nothing happened. He turned it again but still, nothing. Rollin her eyes Katie said “Come on, this has been done to death. Get on with it”.

“Seriously, it won’t start” Joe replied, demonstrating again that the car wasn’t responding.

They were stranded in the middle of a wood with nowhere to go. Both checked their phones, Joe’s was dead and Katie had no signal.

After what seemed like an age, Joe declared that he was going to find the nearest petrol station or public phone. Getting her coat ready to go with him, Katie nodded. “No, you stay here and keep warm in the car” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure there’s a station about 30 minutes walk away” he reassured her.

Agreeing to stay with the car, Katie lightly kissed her boyfriend on the lips and settled into the back seat of the car. Slightly tired, Katie decided to have a nap whilst Joe was gone.

Tap, tap, tap. The distinct sound of tapping woke Katie up from her ‘nap’. Looking at her watch, she discovered she had been sleeping for 3 hours. Puzzled that it had been so long without Joe returning, she peered out the window. It was night time and the density of the trees made it hard to see anything.

Worried she climbed into the front seat and tried the ignition one more time, a fruitless attempt she knew but she wanted to at least try. She played a game on her phone for a little while having forgotten about how she had been woken.

About 10 minutes after she began playing, the tapping noise had returned. Tap, tap, tap it went. Not knowing what could be making the noise puzzled her. Shining her phone out of the window, she saw that they were not parked underneath a tree despite the area they were in.

The tapping noise came and went every few minutes. Getting quite worried, she locked the doors and stopped using her phone. 20 minutes passed before any noise returned, this time however, it was a scraping noise that she heard. This freaked her out, lying down in the seat as low as she could, she closed her eyes and prayed for the noise to cease.

Knowing that something was wrong with Joe didn’t help to ease her anxiety, if he had made it to a station he would have returned by now.

It had been at least 5 hours since Joe had left and about 2 of enduring the strange noises around the car. She was trying to think of anything just to take her mind off the situation. The noise started up again but was interrupted with flashing lights.

The light filled the car and Katie sighed in relief, Joe must have gotten help.

“This is the police, stay right where you are” a loud voice sounded through the air.

Puzzled, Katie wondered what on earth was going on. Unlocking her door she was greeted by a police officer looking pale. She looked around at the other officers and was immediately confused. They were all pointing guns right at her. “There must be some mistake, I’ve not done anything” she explained.

“Just come with me, you’re not in any trouble” the officer replied gently. Walking towards the cars with him he added “We’re going to get you out of here but whatever you do, don’t look back towards the car”.

Annoyed that he had said this, she looked like any normal person would. What she was greeted with made her throw up instantly on the muddy road.

Right there on top of her boyfriend’s car was a dirty man holding a bloody axe in one hand and her boyfriends severed head in the other. The noise through the night was him tapping on the roof with his axe.

Thump thump drag

Pete Jelliffe
Pete Jelliffe

One Saturday night, a 16 year old named Mary was babysitting 2 children as a means of earning a bit of extra cash. The parents had gone out for a meal and said they wouldn’t be back until late so the girl put the two children to bed and then settled herself in the lounge downstairs.

She turned on the TV and began to flip through the channels. A sitcom that she’d seen hundreds of times was on one channel, sighing, she flipped the channel again to a news story. The newsreader was issuing a warning about an escaped patient from a nearby mental facility, flipping the channel again she found a film that she’d wanted to see and so she settled to watch it. The film finished and having fallen asleep, she’d forgotten all about the news report from before…

A little while later one of the children jolted awake. He craned to listen to what had woken him. A noise, coming from the hall possibly. Quieting his breathing he strained to make sense of the noise. Thump, thump, draaaag… Not sure what to make of the sound he thought it could be the TV downstairs. He settled down and tried to fall back asleep. Before he could, he heard the noise again. Thump, thump, draaag…

Startled, he leapt across the room and woke up his brother to get him to listen for the sound. Sure enough they both heard it again, thump, thump, drag… Thump, thump, drag.

They crept to their door to listen out for it again but the sound had stopped. Scared now, they both ran to their beds and hid under their duvets until their parents returned home.

The parents returned to the house and were shocked at the sight that greeted them through their front door. There was blood all over the walls and on the stairs was Mary, dead. Her arms had been cut off at the elbows and the rest of her body was so badly injured that she’d had to drag herself along the floor. She’d been trying to get up the stairs to protect the children from the murderer. She died from blood loss.

To this day Mary’s attacker has not been found. TC mark

This article originally appeared on Urban Legends and Horror.

This Is Me Choosing Recovery From My Eating Disorder (For A Second Time)

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 02:20 PM PST

Jesse Herzog
Jesse Herzog

It's been five years, and the thoughts still consume my mind. Not as much as they used to, but the little voices inside my head, the ones that yell at me about the food I eat, still exist. They never seem to go away, and I doubt that they ever will.

It's been five years of doctor's appointments, arguments, tears, therapists, highs and lows – five years of people thinking I'm vain, obsessed, and selfish. I've had to deal with people judging me on my weight fluctuations and how frequently I go to the gym; whether I choose that side of fries or opt for the acai bowl. It's been five years of constantly hearing that only people who belong to the middle-upper class have issues with food and that I don't have a real problem – that I'm just going through a phase because everyone in California eats super healthy and loves being fit. Yet, these five years I've been misunderstood because my eating disorder isn't really about how much I weigh, the size I wear, or what I eat – it's about the lack of control that I have in my life and a coping mechanism for when things seem to be slipping through my fingers.

I thought that I had finally closed the door on the disorder that shares the same name as me about a year ago. That I had finally fully recovered. That I could enjoy any type of food whenever I wanted. That the number on the scale didn't mean anything to me. That I had forgotten the calorie count of every food that I could potentially consume. That I was finally living life like I was supposed to.

But I was wrong and they were right. Every day is a continuous battle. Some days I win. Some days I lose. But the voices inside my head are always there.

As I reflect back on this past year, I can clearly see all of the red flags of relapse. Skipping meals. Working out excessively. Not going out to social gatherings. Making up a slew of excuses to not eat. Lying. Saying I'm too full. Cutting out food groups. Trying to be a vegetarian. Spending hours in front of the mirror. Weighing myself daily. Starving myself to make up for a bad day of eating. Not eating during the day to make sure I don't go above my calorie budget during a night out. Trying on all my clothes to make sure they still fit. The list can go on and on but the truth is that I've been living this past year in denial.

Fortunately for me, I had been brave enough to share my past with a few of my close friends and they were able to see the signs. Did they really understand why I was struggling so much with the way my body looked? Absolutely not. But they had learned how to provide their support and were able to subtly make sure I didn't fall back into a spiral of darkness. They were the ones that provided the reality checks, the ones that knew that I needed to hear the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

They don't understand how someone they love and respect so much could do so much harm to themselves. How someone they look up to could be so ashamed of their body. How someone they see as an inspiration and role model can't see their true reflection when they look in a mirror. How someone who is confident about the way they look in public and who seemingly doesn't care about what people think about them can go home and have no sense of worth. How someone can appear to be so strong but is slowly dying on the inside. How someone who they think is beautiful inside and out doesn't believe them. And it hurts them to see someone who they care about struggling so much with their sense of self worth.

So this is me sharing my struggles. This is me accepting the reality check that my friends gave me this past weekend. This is me realizing that I need to make a change in my life to stay healthy. That my life’s worth living and that I have so much potential. That relapsing will only bring back the pain and emptiness that I experienced just a few years ago as I was fighting for my life.

But this is mostly me pleading you to take three minutes out of your day to talk to someone – a friend, a family member, a coworker – who you think might be struggling. Be the person who is willing to hear them despite the uncomfort you might feel while having the conversation. Because this isn't about you. It's about them. And in those three minutes, you could be saving someone's life. TC mark

I May Be A Fool, But You Are A Coward

Posted: 03 Mar 2016 02:00 PM PST


I fell for you shamelessly. I held back for so long: I fought it, I reasoned against it, I knew better.

But when you looked at me just so, squeezed my hand in yours and pressed your forehead against mine, I didn't stand a chance. The more you asked, the more I told – I gave you tools to later use against me. I opened myself up, obliviously trusting you not to tear me to shreds. You paid close attention and knew just how to get to me, to wrap me tightly around your finger. You pulled my strings and made me dance because you were afraid to let yourself lose control.

You made me feel like I was too much. I loved too fiercely, thought too intensely, felt too deeply. And, in a way, you were right.

I loved you much more than you deserved, thought far too highly of you, and felt you to be more trustworthy than I should have. I was afraid of my own power, my own heart. I thought it made me seem weak or desperate.

Yet now I know that I am bold; my heart is brave. You were afraid of the grandness of my feelings, but it wasn't me who was too much.

It was you – you were not enough.

I found a challenge in your stubbornness, in your games. I took a deep breath and tensed my muscles, bloodying myself against a boulder that would never budge. Sisyphus, insane to think the same attempts would ever yield different results, determined and frustrated endlessly to try and prove myself.

You would give an inch and it would feel like everything, like my work was paying off. I was prepared to take every weight from your shoulders, to crush myself with your burdens just to give you a second of relief. I would smile as I struggled, happy to help you, but never expected the same in return. I didn't realize I needed someone who could help carry the weight of life from time to time. I couldn't do it for us both, alone.

You were afraid to work with me rather than against me; you held us back, not me.

I would have given everything for you. That notion terrified me, but I knew that it's okay to be scared; it's about how you react to your fears that determines your character.

I was a fool for love, willing to risk it all. I held out my hand to you, heart pulsing in my open palm, and offered it to your closed fist. You knew that I would have made that leap because I was blinded by my own feelings for you, my certainty, my readiness. You manipulated me to that edge, sweet-talked me to the point of no return just to see if you could – and it worked.

But when the time came to jump, you were too afraid to even consider me, much less to choose me, and I fell alone. I fell, but at least I experienced the rush of wind in my hair.

You always played it safe – moderate, controlled, detached – because you are a coward.

Maybe I should thank you for being too weak, too afraid to open yourself up to me. You never deserved my boldness or my affection, I was just too foolish to realize it.

I've become wiser though, learned from my mistakes with you. I have found the value in myself, in my own heart, and in my extraordinary capacity to love. The fact that you still let fear hold you back – well, maybe I'm not one who's the fool, after all. TC mark