Do zoey and chase ever date

As mentioned in the title i’m a 23m pisces getting divorced to my 23F scorpio wife of 5 years. It sucks because i’m so hurt and emotional. Even if she is sad and she’s too stubborn to show it. what makes it worse is we still have to live in the same house until i get an apartment 😣 why do i have to be so sensitive and emotional. never dating a scorpio again

So I have nord VPN and I'm always paranoid about family or friends finding my, tiktok, Instagram or Twitter OR Reddit.
I have a burner phone for all this with a different phone line and everything, I have 0 contacts on the burner phone and have nord VPN on 24/7 on all my devices.
I thought no one would ever find me..... well I'm just gonna outright say tiktok is most definitely taking personal data without your permission, it's literally Chinese spyware.
My little brother came to visit me from out of the state and within 3 days I WAS SEEING MY PROFILE RECCOMENDED TO HIM, he then followed me but has no clue it's me (I wear a mask,and act like a complete slut, but IRL I'm a tomboy, shy, religious((I act religious to cover up my secret online life lol)) conservative type so he would never think that was me) so I blocked him and everything etc. Then out of nowhere I had old friends from my highschool who live across the country starting to follow me?????
None of this was making any sense because my burner phone has vpn on 24/7 completely different phone line (under my BOYFRIEND'S NAME WHOS FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY) location permanently off, I legit have no permissions for tiktok (no phone or email linked to the account + manually disabling all permissions through Android settings) yet my closest friends and family keep getting my account reccomended to them. I also have a completely separate email for everything OF related (all social media etc.)
Also all my socials for OF and everything is all done through my burner phone, I'm not logged in on any other devices.
I know it sounds like I have a tinfoil hat on but seriously if you're trying to keep OF or Fansly a secret from your IRL people, absolutely do not post or promote on tiktok, there's nothing you can do to hide yourself on there it's fucking weird, invasive and extremely concerning. Tiktok is all up in your shit whether you want them to or not.
I just deleted my whole tiktok with 10k followers averaging 20k views a video all because of this, big bummer but I'm not trying to have my FAMILY WATCH MY PORN. It was by far my easiest promotion but omg this experience has me SHOOK I'm paranoid now that he knows but then again he probably doesn't who knows fml. Mad awkward.

I visited Paris in mid April and bought from Gucci. The sales associate completed my VAT forms (Planet Payment), I scanned at the VAT kiosk at the airport and everything was all good. I keep checking the status on the Planet Payment website and the status says it’s as processed but still haven’t received my VAT refund. I contacted Planet Payment last week and received this response today -
“Thank you for your mail.
I have checked our database and can confirm that we have received your Tax Free form for your purchase in FRANCE DS successfully. The Tax Free form has been processed, but unfortunately we do not have any credit card details to issue the refund to you.
In order for us to complete the refund for you, please send us your credit card details. For security reasons, we request that you send the number divided across two emails.
Once I receive this data I hope I can resolve this matter promptly for you. Looking forward to hearing back from you.
Your Planet Team”
Has anyone ever had this happen with Planet Payment? Its very odd to me. Thank you!

so my boyfriend and I have been dating for 7 months but we have been a thing for over a year and have known eachother for 6+ years. theres a problem that keeps arising but there has been many. first of all, he has loved me for years and treats me pretty well and I love him more than anything. but since the beginning of our relationship hes been getting off to pics/videos of other women. I told him to not do it anymore about 4 times before he said he stopped for good and I mostly believe him? it's just been so many times I dont know how to anymore. the last time was mid March. he used Twitter, instagram, tiktok and I found out today, reddit. it made me very insecure and my ex would do it too and did the same thing where I told him it made me sad and he said he would stop but didnt multiple times. I also found out he talked bad about me to a girl he used to talk to when we first started dating, he has lied to me about like everything, he unblocked and texted this girl that I was uncomfortable with because he was mad at me. theres a couple more things but yea. so today I saw the subreddits of alt girls he was getting off to. sometimes it was just a girls face bro. and I'm also like "alt" and have always been so I'm scared he just likes me for a fetish thing. I also saw pron reddits of this video game he likes. he also got off to pron of an anime that he showed me and we watched together. it just seems like he gets himself off to anything and everything but me. on every app. and of every show and game he plays, he finds pron of. I just dont know if I can stay with him. it's never gonna end and I cant handle it. I dont feel like he finds me attractive and I feel like he might have a pron issue. and I cant trust him anymore or anything he says because of the past. well not really the past this has been ongoing since I can remember. anyway, what should I do. I really love him but I dont know if I can handle this anymore

TLDR; (25M) My GF (24F) has been sleeping with her neighbor (36M) and I am spiraling out of control due to my reality instantly morphing into a nightmare.
After months of being called psycho, crazy, controlling, paranoid, etc I finally caught my girlfriend cheating on me 2 night ago.
I drove over to her house and as I was pulling up she was stepping out of the neighbors house. The neighbor (Luigi, 36M) comes outside and explains to me that he was told by my GF (Elizabeth, 24F) that we were broken up and had been for a long time. My now ex girlfriend then comes outside and starts telling me its not cheating because we have been over for a while and yada yada. I guess she forgot to tell me…..
I am thoroughly disgusted for a few reasons:

1. It’s now evident that she had sex with him and me on the same night, several nights a week, for over a year straight. She would fuck him and then come over and kiss me on the mouth and cuddle in my bed. FOR. OVER. A. YEAR. STRAIGHT The age difference is also extremely disgusting to me. 2. This woman truly was the love of my life. I lived and breathed the sustenance from this woman. If she was here I was warm. If she was gone I was cold. I viewed her as THE most decedent Goddess ever to grace the earth. And I made sure to treat her like it every single day. She would constantly thank me for treating her so well. I can’t wrap my mind around how she could knowingly hurt me so deeply. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that another man was defiling my Goddess each and every night, while I was being made a fool. 3. I’m just plain embarrassed. Whenever I would hear stories of people cheating, I would shudder. I had always viewed getting cheated on as a terminal disease, impossible to ever rid yourself from. I know understand that I was right. Everybody looks at you like all you are is the guy who’s bitch got fucked. 4. She could not have possibly loved me. She KNEW what kind of irreversible damage this would have on my psyche. She is an incredibly smart person. She weighed the pros and the cons and came to the conclusion that enjoying another man’s penis was worth the damage it would cause me for the rest of my life. She could not have possibly loved me. 5. She was the only person I had in my life. I have no deep connections with my family, I have no close friendships. I have no social clubs or internet groups. I do not even feel legitimate love for any other single person on the planet except for her. All I want to do is run to her and feel her warmth and tell her how badly I’ve been mangled! But she is the one who caused it….. The loneliness I am experiencing literally has manifested itself as a permanent weight on my chest. I am actually going insane. 6. I haven’t heard from her since I busted them. She hasn’t reached out even once to explain herself or offer any clarity, or to say sorry, or even to say goodbye. One day I was head over heals in love, and the next day I am in the pits of hell. The whiplash is insane. I just want her to talk to me… 

When I walk past the mirror, or catch a reflection of myself on my phone screen, I absolutely fall apart. When I scroll thru my camera roll and see my girlfriend I begin to sob like a baby. How could that perfect face be so cruel? I can’t bring myself to delete any of her pictures because it feels like I’m killing her. It’s like I’m killing that moment that was preserved on camera and ill never get it back. This is made even more significant by the fact that I don’t think she will ever reach out to me again. I will never see her again. The final time I ever got to see the love of my life, she was in another mans oversized sweater, running into his house. The image is forever seared into my brain. The day prior to this we were laughing and cuddling and having sex like everything was fine. THE WHIPLASH IS INSANE.
I do not know where to go from here. I can accept that she’s gone but It’s so hard because I don’t have a shoulder to cry on. All I want to do is fall into a woman’s warm chest and cry my heart out. My pillow will have to suffice.
This post only begins to scratch the surface of all the different dimensions of pain I am feeling. I have no clue what my next steps will be because I truly feel dead inside. I truly wish I could go to sleep tonight and not wake up.
Thank you for reading, it makes me feel better that someone knows how deeply I’m suffering. Please guys, show me some love or recommend me a group I can talk to about this or something.

What are some of the fun non music things to do in the forest? Heard about the dating depot in the hanger and they did temp tattoos there too last year. The giving tree and some other obvious instillations I saw, but I’m always looking for something new or cool to check out

I bought a new iPhone from the Apple Store and they told me to bring in my old phone to get the trade in value. I brought my trade in one day too late so they had to refund me my new iPhone and resold it to me so I could get the trade in value of my old phone. Ever since then the new phone says it’s Apple care coverage has expired and I’m not able to purchase additional Apple Care plus for the device. Even if I go to the Apple care plus website and put in the serial number it says no coverage is available for this device.
I’ve contacted Apple twice. First time they said there was no purchase date listed so they added one and said to wait a couple days… Did that nothing change. Second time I called they said there was an Apple care processing and that’s what’s causing the issue but it’s been a few days and it’s still the same.
Anyone on here ever get an issue like this?

How do you all reconcile these? Often times when adopting a puppy there is no way to research the breed beforehand? Also many rescue puppies are mixed breeds that would be impossible to research in any precise way. I was having a tough time with my puppy biting and kept telling people how confusing it was and that he was the bitey-est puppy I had ever been around, then I got a DNA kit done and found out his highest breed percentage is Australian cattle dog, which was not one I or anyone else had expected whatsoever but explains a lot in regards to the biting/mouthing. I love him and have no regrets but absolutely would not have knowingly chosen a puppy with that as the highest breed since they are notoriously challenging due to their high intelligence and high energy and herding drive.

The quest continues. The quest to find my person. I have posted on a couple of subreddits in the last few weeks and turned up empty like most of you and I don't plan on giving up until I find something promising. I'll link the old post below if you're curious. My post My last posts were long and some may find it long-winded. I'll take a different approach with this one by making bullet points to summarize myself and what I'm looking for:
Me:
* I work in IT for a living and have most of my shit together. Believe in constant personal growth be it staying active to keep myself healthy or being introspective about my actions, and words by learning from my mistakes. * Loves all animals alike, some more than others. Dogs, Horses, and cats are at the top of that list, and reptiles are at the bottom. * Left most of the immature habits I indulged in during college and moved on to more productive and fulfilling things.* While I am cognizant of the fact that I'm fully capable of being a dick, I try my best to make others' day if possible. * I may not be religious but I am a firm believer in karma and I have my parents and the faith they brought me up in to thank for. * Strictly monogamous, kinda old fashioned in ways like holding the door for you and all that jazz. * As much as I like a night out drinking with friends, I equally enjoy staying in to cook a meal I like and watch a movie. * I like communication. Sometimes the way I communicate may sound too direct but I try my damndest to be respectful and when I fail I'm not afraid to say "I'm sorry". You:
* Give or take a few years within my age range, healthy and hwp. * Stable career and ambitions for the future. * Located somewhere in California or the west coast of the US (Open to other states, depending on whether we hit it off) * Monogamous. Able to hold a conversation and keep an open mind about things, even ones you don't tend to agree on. * Mature: I hate how this word is overused and I dislike I'm using it but here goes. The true measure of the character of someone is not how they talk to people who share the same world views, but how they treat people with opposite world views. * Be willing to voice chat in the first day or two. This may not be for everyone, but voice calling is surprisingly effective to find out if two people can vibe or not. * Religious or not, I do not mind. As long as you're okay with having a partner who's not religious. * Lastly, firmly believe in "Pineapple has absolutely no business being on a pizza". (Not a dealbreaker, but I'm willing to fight you on this) * Not passive-aggressive, making snide comments about something that bothers you. (No point in being mean when you can clearly communicate what's bothering you like a normal person) I swear when I was thinking earlier today about stuff to write this post I had so much more and it sounded great in my head. But then again, I'm not an English major to make this sound that beautiful. Anyway, those are the broad strokes. Low-level effort messages will be ignored with prejudice(Sorry, not sorry). It's only fair to expect something with a remote semblance of a thought to be put into words. Messages with a picture(yours) will receive priority, and I will share mine.Good luck and good night.

Australia is not real. It's a hoax, made for us to believe that Britain moved over their criminals to someplace. In reality, all these criminals were loaded off the ships into the waters, drowning before they could see land ever again. It's a coverup for one of the greatest mass murders in history, made by one of the most prominent empires. Australia does not exist. All things you call "proof" are actually well-fabricated lies and documents made by the leading governments of the world. Your Australian friends? They're all actors and computer-generated personas, part of the plot to trick the world.If you think you've ever been to Australia, you're terribly wrong. The plane pilots are all in on this, and have in all actuality only flown you to islands close nearby – or in some cases, parts of South America, where they have cleared space and hired actors to act out as real Australians. Australia is one of the biggest hoaxes ever created, and you have all been tricked. Join the movement today, and make it known that they have been deceived. Make it known, that this has all just been a cover-up. The things these "Australian" says to be doing, all these swear words and actions based on alcoholism, MDMA and bad decisions, are all ways to distract you from the ugly truth that is one of the greatest genocides in history. 162,000 people were said to have been transported to this imaginary land during a mere 80 years, and they are all long dead by now. They never reached that promised land. Tell the truth. Stand up for what is right. Make sure to spread the world – Australia is not real. It's a codeword for the cold-blooded murder of more than a hundred thousand people, and it is not okay. We will not accept this.Stand up for the ones who died. Let it be known, that Australia does not exist.

When I was a kid, I realized that you could draw 3d looking objects on a piece of paper (3d onto 2d). It gave me a lot of intuition on 3d objects.
I have no intuition on 4d objects at all. But i do feel like if there was ever a 4d object and it was translated into 3d then i could also get as much intuition as i can in the same way as drawing a cube on a piece of paper.
Maybe i'm wrong. But has anybody even tried doing this?

To all current pilots in this reddit platform , please consider replying not just for me but for all other aspiring pilots out there. These concern I believe is extremely important other than passion.
I'm 23 right now and I had a long sit down with my dad yesterday talking about my passion which was to be a pilot .
I want to be a pilot I do, but via the advice of my father it's best to ask the hard questions first.
I'm based in Malaysia , and the flying schools here are governed by an aviation body known as CAAM , which follows the standards of EASA not FAA
I plan to finance my flight school via the help of my father by securing an education loan from a Malaysian Bank , the cost of my flight school i researched so far costs approximately RM439,000 (95,351USD + -) .
Passion isnt an issue , i want this and i'm willing to go great lengths to achieve this but my future is a concern
This concern about my future as a pilot is specifically regarding several topics:

1. Paying off loans and ability to buy a house and a car in the future and being able to provide.

To senior pilots or captains out there, Assuming all goes to plan , I graduate at age 25 , I start getting a job in the airline industry as a second officer type rated on an a320 being on the observer's seat (example only , realistically I will take any aircraft type rating the airline offers me but I have a goal of getting type rated on multiple aircrafts throughout my life to increase my career security) . From this age and this position , how long would it realistically take (based on your average salary that you have earned incrementally from the lowest position up to captain) to be financially secure enough to :
A. Pay off my loans completely
B. Buy a house and being able to pay it off
C. Buy a decent car and being able to pay it off
D. Start a family and provide Extremely well
How long did it took you guys to achive A,B,C and D ? Would I be able to do this by age 30? 35? 40 ? 50 ?
Please be as honest as possible and do not sugar coat, screw all the marketing bs that being a pilot is a good life etc, I need to know the challenges I will be facing and advice on how to be prepared to face them.

1. Airlines work politics .

Assuming all goes well, I pass flying school , I gain the hours I start as a second officer and I start building my career.. I do everything right I follow every single rule of the book.
But there has to be a corporate catch somewhere ... some kind of grey area where as much as I follow the rules , there could be management grey areas or unspoken rules about the airline industry that I must abide by . If there is , what are they and how would I go about that .
Is there any favouritism in the industry, has anyone ever been fired by the airlines before for apparently no good reason other than 'you follow the rules but we just dont like you / we want to hire another pilot because he has ties to a fellow colleague / gov body /family ,'? Has any of you ever experienced a delay in your promotion to captain because other pilots got the queue cut due to connections ?
these are highly unspoken about items and they dont pop up on google but I need to know this before I invest and risk my life in service to the industry and know whether or not there is going to be some corporate BS that I need to prep in order to safeguard my career security.

1. Working for Airlines in another country ( how difficult is the process of license conversion / visa or any related documents that I must know about in order to make this a potential reality in pursuit of a higher paying salary )
   
2. What are the typical benefits and perks of being a pilot ?
   

- flight discounts ?
-complimentary stays in hotels ?
-family packages ?
-memberships ?
-free healthcare ?
- taxes ?
(Details on cost)
Payment Scheme : Bank Loan covers 90% of the school's fees for a max of RM400,000 (86,881 USD)
with 7.75 % interest rate pa with a max tenure of 20 years .
Bank says during my flight school course I only pay installments based on the interest first excluding principal .(20 months duration for CPL/IR + Frozen ATPL course ).
after graduating , I get a 6 months grace period where i dont have to start paying the bank immediately . After that however I start paying Principal + Interest and from my understanding this a 'Reducing Balance' type payment .
I plan to take the loan and choose the 20 year tenure period, to give me more breathing space to pay off the loans, however once I get a really good paying salary , I will attempt to pay off the loans in lump sum to avoid paying such a ridiculous interest amount . Ideally down to 10 years or less
I do understand as well that some of this is PnC and maybe u dont feel comfortable posting it publicly, you may also direct message me or whatsapp my number +60108838549 (Chris) from Malaysia .
(Phone number Privacy is the least of my concern and is a risk im willing to take in search of valuable information )

I have taken my 1 year old cat to the same vet ever since he was 6 months old and i've noticed that his lymph nodes get swollen and sometimes they get better but every time I take him to the vet I tell the vet about the lymph nodes and he just graces his neck and tells me every time that he doesn't feel anything swollen. Last week I made an appointment again because I noticed his lymph nodes getting swollen again and same thing, the vet checked his lymph nodes and said nothing was swollen and he got defensive when I asked him if he checked thoroughly because I feel them myself every day and I notice the size fluctuation.
At this point I don't know what to do, i've raised my concern to my husband and he says i'm just being paranoid and if the vet doesn't see anything wrong he must be correct because he's the profesional but I'm scared my cat has something serious because his lymph nodes have never gone down.
I guess I'm looking for other people that have had the same experience. Should I take him to another vet? Or what should I tell my current vet to check him more seriously, every time we go he is literally in the room for 1 whole minute and charges me for "an examination" even though he doesn't even take my cat out of the carriage.
I'm at my wits ends, i'm just trying to help my cat but the vet says there's nothing wrong and my husband isn't worried at all, I could use some help here to be honest.

Popped into my local store to make two returns. One was an instore purchase and the other was online. There was an educator training on the register and someone helping her.
The in-store purchase they just matched to my phone number, no problem. For the other, they asked for my email, specifically the one with “the wait is over” as the subject line. I couldn’t find it. Anywhere. I even checked after I got home. The purchase was in my online account and I had order confirmation, plus shipping/delivery confirmation. I don’t think they scanned the item to match with my phone number like the first item. The person who was doing the training got really impatient and told me they would do it as a one time courtesy but I really needed to keep that specific email in the future because they need to be able to scan it. They made me feel slimy when I really wasn’t, at all. I really just wanted to get out of there so I didn’t ask any follow ups.
just wondering if that email is a new thing, since March? I couldn’t find any email from ever with that headline. ty!! I don’t want to bump into this problem again so I appreciate any clarification!

Having just gotten out of the recent Spider Man film, and as a former animation student...
I know it's probably blasphemy depending on who you ask, but I have to wonder why Toei doesn't consider at least one run of dope animated films, or just one once in a while. They don't have to do it often, I get it, a great deal of the spirit of Kamen Rider is watching live action dudes in suits, that special Tokusatsu feel you can't get anywhere else. But it can't possibly hurt to invest in an occasional full force anime film.
The potential is just nuts, especially after being reminded of it yet again in Across the Spider Verse. As someone who wishes that more superhero films took advantage of the medium, it's a shame so few do it. With the insane talent they have access to in Japan in particular, the set pieces they can set up would be INCREDIBLE. All the seamless effects they can tap into for raw style, like glowing eye trails or stylish scarf trails for those that have scarves, hell... they wouldn't have to worry about street laws and custom motorcycle issues - imagine the chase sequences, Riders really living up to being Riders! The sheer raw potential is quite literally limitless provided Toei gives it its full support.
Again, I don't mean this to replace anything, I know Tokusatsu is a special thing unto itself (mind, I enjoyed Shin Kamen Rider not long before this) - but this is to just ADD to the franchise; something they can do once in a while.
I know there's been some anime work, but has this just never really been pushed? Is it something that just isn't considered overall due to its roots? I'm not up to date with how the fandom is at large, especially in Japan regarding this - would they not accept that kind of thing?

When I was getting started, an actor I knew gave me some really good advice. While deciding whether or not to take a certain role, consider three factors: the money, the show, and the people. If at least two of those things are good, accept the job. If they’re paying you well and you love the play, you won’t mind putting up with shitty people. If it’s a great show with a cast full of friends, but you’re not getting paid so well, that’s still alright, it’ll be artistically fulfilling. If it’s a bad show but you love the cast and you’re making money, you’ll probably have the time of your life making fun of the playwright backstage and laughing all the way to the bank.
What my friend failed to mention is that as an aspiring actor, you don’t usually get to be that picky. When I got the call from my agent that a production of The Bacchae was urgently seeking a new chorus member, all I could see were dollar signs. My survival job had just fallen through (the family I nannied for was moving upstate, insisting that Manhattan had just gotten “too dangerous” for their toddler), and my savings were only going to cover my rent for another month.
It was raining the day of my audition, and my train got delayed. I showed up panting (I had to run from the subway station) and my hair a disaster. Luckily, in The Bacchae, the chorus is full of… well… Bacchae. Fervent followers of Dionysus, wild women, drunk and running through the countryside. In the climax of the play, they crowd the protagonist in a frenzy, literally ripping him limb from limb.
I’ll never know if it was my frenetic energy from barely making it to the theater on time, or my actual acting, but I got the part. My costume fitting was the next day– they weren’t kidding about urgently needing a replacement. Which thrilled me, because I wasn’t kidding about urgently needing the money. At the fitting, I discovered something my agent failed to mention about the production: this wasn’t just any version of The Bacchae, it was a recreation– an attempt to perform the play in the traditional Greek style. In other words, everyone was wearing masks.
I’ve never been fond of masks. We had to do a few assignments with them in my college acting courses; covering your face can enhance the physicality of your body, something like that. But I never liked wearing them, or seeing other people wearing them. It wouldn’t be fair to call it a full-on fear, but the stiffness, the lack of expression, gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. And wearing one, your field of vision limited, your mouth covered, making it harder to breathe, harder to project your voice– I don’t like it. It’s as simple as that.
But I needed the money. My costume wasn’t ugly, per se, just strange: a long white dress, or maybe toga is a better word, the fabric about the thickness of a burlap sack. My mask, stark white, paper mache, covering my entire face except my eyes, the mouth carved to imitate a grin. No shoes. My hair tucked into a wild black wig– we wore wigs, they explained to me, so the chorus could be identical, indistinguishable. We moved as one, spoke as one, and were meant to look like one. They even made sure to cast women of the same height. In our costumes, it was impossible to tell which of us was which.
It didn’t help that I was an outsider to the rest of the cast, joining the show weeks into rehearsals. Everyone seemed annoyed that they had to teach me the blocking, the inflection of the lines (so my voice didn’t stick out from the other chorus girls), and where to go backstage during scenes with no chorus. A few people tried to be nice to me, but quickly gave up when they realized I knew nothing about Greek theater, or masked theater, or the avant garde. My last show had been a regional production of Cats, for God’s sake. I was totally out of my element.
Things got especially sour when I tried to ask what had happened to the girl I was replacing. Nobody wanted to talk about it. People gasped when I brought it up. The clearest answer I got was a whispered, hesitant, “she fell,” but the person wouldn’t elaborate any further. The cast seemed superstitious, uncomfortable, like talking about her would cause them to suffer her fate: removal from the show. And it was clear that, aside from me, everyone else loved this show. The actor playing Dionysus, the couple of times he deigned to talk to me, just kept gushing about how honored he was to play this role, how electrifying it felt to put his history minor to use, to show people a piece of the world’s theatrical beginnings.
I thought the show was fine. Kinda boring, kinda scary. I don’t think I “get” The Bacchae. In brief, the story is about Dionysus, son of Zeus, disguised as a human. He and his followers (the chorus) show up in a town, but the leader of the town, Pentheus, is upset about it. He doesn’t understand why all these women are acting crazy, and he arrests Dionysus, not believing him to be an actual God. As punishment, Dionysus possesses Pentheus’s own mother with the same madness as his followers, and together, with their bare hands, they rip Pentheus apart. His mom walks back into town holding her son’s head, thinking it to be, in her madness, the head of a lion. When she realizes what she’s done, she is overwhelmed by grief, and futilely attempts to put Pentheus’s mutilated corpse back together. Dionysus returns, basically saying, “well, he said I wasn’t a God, and that’s blasphemous, so he got what was coming to him.” Pentheus’s mother is exiled.
It’s incredibly dark. In the reviews, critics called it daring, challenging, a bloody spectacle, a feminist masterpiece. I don’t really get what part of “a man who’s a God possesses women’s minds, driving them to murder” screams “feminism,” but hey, I’m the girl who commuted to New Jersey every day for four months to do Cats, what do I know?
Here’s something I do know: the other chorus girls did not like me. And they took their jobs seriously. As we waited to enter for each scene, there was dead quiet in the wings. Usually, there’s some light joking, maybe quickly running lines, maybe physical warmups, shaking out your nerves– I tried to do this once. Before our entrance at the top of the show, we all gathered in the stage right wing, all twelve of us, a perfect and identical dozen. It was a dress rehearsal. No audience. I did a few jumping jacks, trying to hype myself up. Another masked girl grabbed my bicep, hard. When I turned, she just shook her head “no.” Just a simple, silent, “no.” We don’t do that here. We stand silently in the wings, focusing on our craft, breathing, waiting for our entrance. I never tried it again.
When you can’t talk to your coworkers, acting becomes a lot less fun. The collaboration element is totally gone. And honestly, the “acting” element was gone for me, too. How am I supposed to find my character or sense of identity in a role when my role is “don’t let your voice stick out, don’t take a wrong step, blend in perfectly with eleven women who dislike you?”
So before the shows, instead of chatting, or doing jumping jacks, I wandered the theater. I’ve always loved theaters; the dramatic architecture, the ornate prosceniums, the stark contrast of backstage, so dark, so dusty. The theater was no Broadway house, but it had a fly system (which we didn’t use, because the Greeks wouldn’t have been able to fly anything in), just over three hundred seats (including a mezzanine– fancy!), and lots of backstage space. I could say more about it, because I spent hours during the run of the show wandering, but it wouldn’t be terribly interesting to anyone who’s not me. Just know, it was a beautiful old theater– and I mean OLD. Built in the 1910s, just before the Great Depression. I used to love imagining how many generations of people had performed on that stage, imagining what they’d think of this show, or what they’d think of me.
About a week into my wandering, on some fifteen-minute break, I was looking at the ladder that led up to the catwalk– a long, thin metal walkway stretching across the stage from above, usually used for hanging lights. I wondered how long it had been since it was used during a show. I wondered if it was even safe. What would the view be like from up there, seeing the entire stage from thirty feet in the air?
I slowly looked up the ladder. I wouldn’t actually climb it. That would be crazy, right? I’m not particularly good with heights. As my eyes lifted, I made eye contact– or rather, mask contact– with someone. A fellow chorus girl, up on the catwalk.
I stopped breathing for a second. What was she doing up there? I started to say something stupid, like, “Why are you up there?” when just as quickly as the face appeared, it vanished. I saw her white robed form retreat down the catwalk, heading for a different ladder, probably. It was weird. Why did she run? Embarrassed to be caught somewhere she shouldn’t be?
I allowed myself to entertain a little fantasy: maybe she was just like me. Maybe she also hated the other chorus girls, and didn’t “get” The Bacchae. Maybe she was exploring the theater for fun on our break, enjoying the old architecture, like I did. I had no idea who she was under the mask, and she had no idea who I was. She probably thought I was one of the normal judgemental girls, and ran off before I could tell on her to the stage manager.
I was filled with unfounded hope. Could I make a friend here? Was it possible? After two and a half weeks of silence from the other girls, it was hard to imagine. How would I find her? How would I let her know it was me– that I had seen her on the catwalk, and we were the same?
After that day, I got much more observant. When the director called for a break, instead of immediately retreating into the depths of backstage, I watched my eleven doppelgangers carefully, tracking who went for water, who went back to the dressing rooms, who ran off towards the vending machines. It was hard to tell everyone apart, but people had to take their masks off to drink water eventually. I memorized faces and tried to keep track of them. I started to get a handle on everyone’s patterns, narrowing down potential adventurers.
It was impossible. Eleven people is too many to observe. But I’m an actor. Memorizing shit is literally my job. By week four, just days from opening, I had three potential girls. I tried to stick close to them during rehearsals, picking one to follow each day, but nobody ever wandered towards the catwalk. Maybe the girl, whoever she was, had been scared away from adventuring when I caught her. I started to lose hope. We were opening soon– I should focus on making my entrances, not making friends.
But then I saw her again.
This time, it was half an hour before the curtain went up for our invited dress rehearsal. The press was there. I was nervous. I knew I had my part down, but when you’re doing a show, no matter how prepared you are, there’s always the lingering fear that you’ll freeze up, forget everything, and ruin everyone’s hard work. It just means that you care. I was surprised that I cared so much. I still didn’t even get the play. I couldn’t let the other girls see me weak. I barely show my real feelings to people I care about, much less mean actresses who look down on me. To get away from it all, I wandered down to another unused part of the stage: the orchestra pit. We did have music in the show, but the Greeks didn’t have orchestra pits. So it was closed off, being used as storage.
I loved it down there. I loved looking through the storage bins, finding props from long-forgotten productions– sometimes I would find something incredible, something I swore was from the day the theater opened, something old and valuable– and usually, I could never find it again. Those bins were a treasure trove. Of all the weird little spaces I found backstage, the pit was my favorite. I felt like a real explorer down there, illuminating my path with my phone flashlight, getting spooked when a mouse ran over my foot (of course the theater had mice, it was more than a hundred years old! And besides, every building has mice in New York City).
That day, I wasn’t there to look around. Just to sit. Just to catch my breath. I tiptoed down the creaky steps, and plopped myself on the ground, surrounded by bins. I inhaled and exhaled, smelling the mildew-y scent of old props on every side of me. And that’s when I heard a noise. Not a mouse noise– I was used to those. Something bigger. I turned my phone flashlight on immediately, calling, “hello?”
And the light landed on a mask, just like mine. Mine which was currently off, because I was doing my breathing exercises. I felt exposed– she could see my face, but I couldn’t see hers. I stood up. “You scared me!”
She didn’t respond. She looked at me for a second, and started to retreat the other way, towards the stairs at the other side of the pit.
“Wait!” I called. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you!”
She stopped for a second. But then she kept walking. I stood and followed. “Please stop. Can I at least know who you are? I don’t fit in with most of the chorus girls–”
I reached for her long white toga. I swear, I had it in my hand, but somehow, she slipped away. I staggered a bit, almost tripped, confused that I hadn’t made contact with her costume. And when I looked back up, I only saw a glimpse of her disappearing up the stairs. I tried to follow, again, but I found that side of the pit’s stairs reached a dead end. I didn’t understand how she’d gotten out. And when I looked back down at my phone, it was time for places. Disappointed and defeated, I rushed away to the other stairs, making my way to the stage right wing to wait for my entrance.
I counted heads immediately when I arrived. Maybe she hadn’t made it back yet. But, alas: twelve. All accounted for. I nudged a girl next to me, subtly. “Who was the last one here besides me?”
She just stared at me for a moment, which came off as very creepy through the blank dead stare of her mask. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? We all look exactly the same.”
I sighed. “Okay. Thanks.” For nothing, I thought bitterly.
The invited dress went well. The press liked it, as I’ve already said. I was distracted the entire time. After that day, I made it a habit to count all the girls when the stage manager called for “places.” If I was right about this girl, she, like me, would be one of the last, if not the last one there. She would be wandering, exploring, getting away from the bullies.
I wish I hadn’t done this. I wish I’d given up when she disappeared on a dead-end staircase. I wish I’d never seen her on the catwalk. Because when I started counting heads, I noticed something impossible. Sometimes, before we went on, I counted thirteen identical masked faces.
It was a chorus of twelve. It was supposed to be twelve. I’d recount. Recount again. Thirteen. A chill went down my spine. We all looked the same. Same masks, same togas, same wigs. Who was the imposter? How could anyone be an imposter? It didn’t make sense. How would they get into the theater? How would they get a costume?
I started counting more often. Between scenes, in the dressing rooms, even on stage during dull moments. It fluctuated. Sometimes I’d count twelve for a whole day, an entire show, and sigh in relief, feeling like some curse was broken. But the next day, at least once, I’d count thirteen.
And it seemed as if one masked pair of eyes was always trained on me. I don’t know how she knew it was me. We looked the same. But she’d stare. It felt scary, but also ridiculous– I couldn’t be sure it was the same person looking every time. I couldn’t be sure it was unlucky number thirteen. But I felt like it was.
I felt a lot of things. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone. The other girls already didn’t like me– I couldn’t have them thinking I was crazy. And admitting the presence of the thirteenth would mean admitting to my adventures into forbidden backstage areas. I couldn’t lose this job. I was living paycheck to paycheck. I wasn’t eating well, or sleeping well– maybe this was all a hallucination. And somehow, my biggest feeling was that if I told someone about the thirteenth, I’d never see her again.
And I needed to see her again. The obsession had only gotten stronger. I knew, somehow, deep inside, that she was the one I had seen on the catwalk and in the orchestra pit. I no longer wanted to be her friend– I wanted to corner her. To ask who she was, and why she was sneaking in as if she was one of us. I wanted to ask what she wanted from me.
Because she must want something from me, right? Why else would she stare? Why would she appear only to me?
The timing never lined up. The show had opened at this point, and I had a job to do: delighting the audience. I couldn’t skip my entrance to catch number thirteen. The chorus formations would look ridiculous with a missing person. And as much as the other girls hated me, I owed it to them as my costars to make them look good.
Logically, I knew there was only one person the thirteenth could be: Catalina, the actress I’d replaced. She must be jealous of me. Bitter. Maybe she wanted to take my role, like I’d taken hers. It would be insane, but it was all that made sense. She was the only other person who had the costume, who knew the keypad code to get into the theater. She must have recovered from her fall and come to find me.
It was almost like a game. It definitely made the show more interesting for me. Before I realized what was happening, I dreaded performances. I felt stupid, taking on this role in a show I didn’t even understand. But now I had so much to do. I had to plan.
I started showing up early, an hour before my call time. I walked my old spots, thinking I may see her. The other chorus girls were impressed that I was showing up early, thinking it showed some sort of dedication to the show. I think they even started to hate me less. They still detested any attempts at conversation in the wings, but in the dressing room, I started to have a few breakthroughs. In particular, I started a semi-friendship with Erin. Ironically, she had been one of the three women I thought may be the thirteenth, until I realized the thirteenth wasn’t really one of us at all.
She was the only person who I could actually ask about Catalina. “Did she ever say anything about the theater? The building, I mean? Did she have a favorite part of it?”
Erin would laugh at my seemingly random specificity. “We weren’t close, Michelle. I have no idea what she thought about the theater.”
“What did she do on her breaks?”
Erin thought for a second. “I don’t know. I never saw her at the vending machines, or the dressing room. I guess she found some quiet place to run lines.”
That confirmed it, for me. A quiet place like the catwalk. Or the orchestra pit. We were three weeks into our five week run when I came up with a plan to catch Catalina. It wasn’t a great plan, and I had no idea if it would work, but showing up an hour early every day was making me tired and producing zero results. I needed a new strategy. I realized that after seeing her in the pit, I only ever saw the thirteenth when all twelve of us were together.
So I told a white lie. One night after the show, when everyone was changing in the dressing room, I appealed to my fellow chorus girls. “Are you guys busy before the show tomorrow?” I innocently asked. “I’m feeling a little shaky on some of the entrances. If we could all get here just twenty minutes before our call time tomorrow, I’d love to run some stuff with you guys. I’ve been running it on my own, but without the entire team, I don’t always remember where I fit.”
To my surprise and intense joy, everyone agreed. They really did seem to respect me more when I looked like I was taking my role seriously. I could barely sleep that night, I was so excited to see if my plan worked. And hey, if it didn’t, I had two more weeks of shows to think up something else.
It was a Sunday night, our last show of the week. Mondays are often “dark days” in professional theater, meaning there are no shows that day to give the team a rest. I had planned this on purpose– if I failed, I had a dark day to reflect on that failure and try again.
At 5:40, twenty minutes before our call time, all the girls were assembled and in costume. We started running entrances. After ten minutes, I thought my plan had failed. We had run our first three entrances, and I never counted more than twelve heads in the wings. But around 5:55, as we got to our entrances in act two, offstage, I locked eyes with a mask. A thirteenth mask.
I quickly told everyone “I think I got it, you guys, thank you so much for coming early!” Everyone mumbled that it was no problem, that they were happy to help.
The thirteenth mask broke eye contact with me, looking around in confusion– perhaps distress. The girls started to trickle back towards the dressing room. The thirteenth turned and power-walked away. I shoved through the crowd to catch her, not calling out like I had in the past. I knew she didn’t respond to that. I knew I had to catch her now or never. Once we were out of the crowd’s eyeline, I began to run. She ran, too. “You’re not getting away this time!” I yelled, like some kind of cartoon superhero. My adrenaline was pumping, and blood rushed to my ears.
After I yelled, I suddenly became aware of another set of running feet behind me. “Michelle? Where are you going?” It was Erin’s voice.
“Don’t follow me!” I hastily called back, picking up speed. The thirteenth also picked up speed. Though she was running just as fast as I was, she showed no signs of exertion. I couldn’t hear heavy breathing, or heavy feet on the floor. It was like she was gliding. It infuriated me.
Erin didn’t let up. “Michelle, the stage manager is gonna wonder where we are!”
I ignored her. The thirteenth rounded a corner, and I realized where she was going: the catwalk. The ladder.
She ascended the rungs rapidly, like a spider. I clamored up much less gracefully. Erin’s voice had a heavy tinge of concern. “Michelle, what are you doing?! It’s not safe up there!”
“Then don’t follow me!” I yelled back, exasperated. “This is between me and her!” Despite my vocal warning, I heard Erin climbing behind me.
Once on the metal rail, I looked both ways, terrified she’d escaped me again. But her white toga was just a few feet away, retreating into darkness. I lunged at her. The entire catwalk shook. The thirteenth and I both grabbed the railing to steady ourselves. We met eyes. Or rather, we met masks.
“You have nowhere to go.” I stated.
I heard Erin reaching the top of the ladder behind me. “Michelle, come down, please. You’re scaring me.”
“I can’t. I finally have her.” I took a step towards the thirteenth. She took an equal and opposite step back. “Take the mask off.” I beckoned her. “I know it’s you, Catalina.”
I felt the rail shake slightly as Erin got on it. “What are you talking about, Michelle?!”
“She’s been sneaking in, Erin! She’s been standing in the wings with us before we enter! For weeks!” I took another step towards the thirteenth. In my peripheral vision, I could see how high we were above the stage. Thirty feet. You could die, falling from that height.
“It’s not Catalina. It can’t be. Stop this.” Erin called. Finally, frustrated, I turned towards her.
“Who else could it be?!”
Erin had taken her mask off. Her face was streaked with terror. “Catalina died, Michelle. She fell off this catwalk, directly onto her face, and she died. Please come down with me. I don’t know who you’re talking to, and I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t worth it.”
“What are you talking about? I’m talking to–”
I turned back, and she was gone. Vanished like a bad dream. “I swear to God, Erin.” I started to say. “She was right in front of me. I chased her here–”
I turned back to Erin. The thirteenth was behind her.
It made no sense. Nobody can move that fast. Nobody can be in front of me one second and behind me the next. It was inhuman. I stopped speaking. I stopped breathing. It sucks to learn that in a fight-or-flight situation, my answer is to freeze.
Erin must’ve seen how my face changed. “Michelle?” She asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”
Behind her, the thirteenth raised a hand to her mask. Her hands were impossibly pale. How had I never noticed that before? She gripped the mask in her hand. Time stretched. It must’ve only been a second, because Erin didn’t move. But it felt like years of my life passed me by as the thirteenth, inch by inch, raised her mask from her face. Or– raised her mask.
Because there was no face.
Under the mask, pale and gruesome, was a bloody flat edge. Broken, disgusting, it was impossible to make out eyes, or a nose, or a mouth. Inside a somewhat face-shaped frame of stark-white skin, all I could see was flesh, red and raw, squished in on itself. Like someone had fallen from a very high height. And landed on their face.
By the time I finally began to react, it was too late. The thirteenth– or, Catalina– or, the ghost, or– whatever the fuck that thing was. It moved its hands from the mask to Erin’s shoulders. And it pushed. And she screamed, agonizingly loud, as she flew over the side of the railing. And she screamed for the second or so she was in the air. I was screaming, too. And after the crunch of her body hitting the wooden floor of the stage, everyone else screamed, cast and crew alike.
I stared down at her limp form from thirty feet up. Her legs were twisted the wrong way. A pool of blood began to seep out of her. When I looked up again, I expected the thirteenth to be gone, but it wasn’t. With no eyes, it was also looking down at Erin. At what it had done.
And then, slowly, it turned towards me. On all fours, backwards, I scrambled away from it on the catwalk, terrified, not wanting to be next. The thirteenth’s shoulders shook rapidly, like a person laughing. But it made no sound. It never made a sound. Not going up the stairs of the orchestra pit. Not when it pushed Erin. And not as it climbed back down the ladder, rung by rung. I found myself alone on the catwalk.
Erin survived, somehow, paralyzed from the waist down. Apparently she fell on her legs, which, when you’re falling from thirty feet up, is a good thing. If she’d gone down head first, there was no chance. The show had to close, of course. When they lost Catalina a few weeks into rehearsal, she was replaceable. But with me refusing to go on, and Erin in the hospital, there was nothing to be done. I haven’t seen Erin since that day. I feel too guilty. But I was never arrested, so I guess she told the authorities that I didn’t push her. I don’t know what she told them. I don’t know what I would’ve told them, had they asked me.
I don’t do stage plays anymore. The family I used to nanny for gave me a star-studded recommendation, and now I make my living taking care of a five-year-old and a two-year-old for another filthy-rich family. I still act, but I only audition for film work.
I don’t even see plays these days. I won’t set foot in a theater. If the thirteenth had vanished off that catwalk, maybe things would be different. Maybe I could chalk it up to an extreme hallucination, some terrifying creature my mind brewed up to cope with the stress of the show and paying rent. Maybe I could even forget its bloody mess of viscera in the vague shape of a face.
But I saw it go down that ladder. Rung by fucking rung. And I know it’s still out there.
Erin was unlucky. Erin was a victim of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And if I step inside a theater again, some way, somehow, I know the thirteenth will get me on another catwalk.
This time, I’ll be the one going over the railing.
And I’ve never once landed on my feet.

I posted this theory the other day about how obvious it is that Kris/Kylie want the PR benefits from Kylie's fling with Timothy, and how the cigarettes were a ploy to throw him off/make him think the pap photos weren’t their doing. It's become clear that Timothy doesn’t want to be seen with her in any capacity (which is good advice from his camp/friends I presume) but Kylie/Kris have become desperate to prove the public wrong.
The most recent development? Well if you click on the original Page Six article, the original photos are gone. There’s been speculation that Timothy’s camp got the photos removed because they were illegally taken on his property. There’s ALSO speculation Timothy reached out to Kylie/Kris directly to get them removed because A. Kris has pull with the media and B. He knew it was them who called the paps to begin with, and was rightfully pissed about their maneuver. Kris was able to pull strings to a certain extent, but there was a previous deal in place (hence the bizarre replacement photos).
I think that the overall goal of Kris/Kylie here was to try to make Kylie seem desirable and to prove she’s not really in her “flop era”. There also might be an element of Kylie trying to make Travis jealous. Whatever the case may be, it's clear Timmy just doesn't fuck with her like that and doesn’t want to be seen with her. He's had a past in terms of being photographed with celebs he's hooking up with, so I can see him wanting to be extra private this time around. He probably has demanded privacy with Kylie, her and Kris just couldn't help themselves.
Thoughts?

Same loop I’ll try and cut some details out and only comment if you have serious advise. Also before telling me to get help I am doing that but it might get bad because a messed with the social worker and phychiatris.
TLDR: my anger issues, memorie and DID cost me the love of my life and I might not get a 40th chance
I met a young woman when I was in 11th grade (15) she was 21. I accidentally grabbed her hand and she called me a pig I called her a stuck up rich girl and she pulled a knife on me I took it from her. A few things happens after that and I felt like my skin fell off and I was breathing through muscles. The second time I saw her she had this guy a 38 year old that had my same mental illness (his was from fisical abuse) I ended up fighting him and winning I got her mad for somthing I did and ask a navy recruiter I kneed in the face to find her for me and I enlisted.
He brought her only for her to try and pair me up with someone that had an obsessive crush on me we fought. She came back to where I worked and told me to ask her on a date I replied “the cum shot im gonna put in you is goma feel like a punch in your yuterus”. This was I front of 2 other guy the other guy started talking to her in that way i knocked one out and grab the other one by the throat and she sexually humiliated me and left. Found her on the mall talked how I usually talk she got disrespected got mad and told me I owed her a date. I tried to get her and her 2 brothers and the recruiter chased me away.
The recruiter started mocking me I asked him how does it feel a 15 year old fuck your wife. Evaded the fight dindt se her until I went to Uni saw her when I was taking her dads class. After agravating him he sent her away I got depressed and blocked my memory of her. And anytime she tried to talk to me I couldn’t remember her I even got annoyed to see her on one ocation. Her father tried to get me to do something for him in exchange he was going to let me go out with his doughter. I got out of hand and he changed his mind I got in leagel trouble and skipping to 2 year later she and surprisingly her brothers and father tried to get along with me but since her father ruind my life.
every time I remembered him I got mad and made them leave. Im writing this because the last time this happened she told me to seek help and to write an auto biography of my life prompting me to get mad and telling her I don’t need her and she responded with she’s not waiting for me anymore. I literaly rememberd her 6 week ago and I just wrote her dad to try and get in touch with her (he doesn’t want me close to her). The reason being is I want to know if she’ll forgive me and maby we can try agin with both our memories intact.

Hey Tracey…. When it comes to this snark page (and Kayla’s) with sharing pictures, allow me to educate you some and allow me to quote “If you're going to share photos that someone else has posted online, you need to make it absolutely clear that the content is not yours, and you must credit the creator. You should also get written consent to avoid any claims of copyright infringement.” No need for written consent because the pictures and videos are within public places and/or it’s one of you posting them and you’re both always credited. Pretty sure Reddit posts gives you and Kayla enough credit based on what you two post; your names are always mentioned from both your TikTok and Instagram, screenshots from Facebook with your names. Bullying? Nah. We all post the truth based on videos and pictures that you TWO post and credit is always given. No one is fabricating anything. Pretty sure pictures, videos, court dates etc. speak volumes and seeing as it’s all public information we can share. Almost all members here blur out Novas face which you two do not, aside from yesterday where I’m sure your purpose was to make it look like something was up with Nova vs. Kayla. Gotta keep your follower on edge, right? Keep them coming back for more with “new content” 😆 As for bullying, I’ve yet to see anyone threaten neither physically, mentally or emotionally. We all have opinions and judgement and it’s human nature. With that aside, Kayla is riding the welfare train and many, if not all of us, are tired of our tax dollars going to scum like her while she sports brand name clothing/cosmetics, goes for tans, has her nails done, goes to the gym, likely makes a lot of money being a hooker (not claiming her “business” to the government) lost custody of her kids, is an addict, steals from people, businesses, gardens…I can go on and on and on. You my dear, need to get your own shit together and THEN focus on your family. You’re not going to be TikTok famous or an “influencer.” No one looks up to you and unfortunately there is likely no hope for Kayla. If her own kids aren’t enough for her to make a change with her lifestyle then it just proves she’s a selfish junkie.

After going through something really traumatic back in August to October of 2022, I’ve had a hard time holding down a job. I’ve finally locked down a job that I’m currently working at from Feb. 2023– to present. I work part time and I am a manager. I have never worked dealt with the stuff in the store I work at ever before and I was told numerous times I was going to be trained and what not. I’m still learning. My boss, the assistant store manager, always seems to get infuriated when I do something wrong. She also makes it seem like I’m purposely doing it wrong, which I’m not. I never intend to do anything purposely wrong. While I’m still suffering from what happened last year, this is now bothering me too. I am trying my hardest to do things right. I also always get the feeling that my assistant store manager doesn’t like me, and never has. She’s sat in everyone else’s interview while she skipped out on mine. (I was interviewed by the store manager). She always is talkative with others while she’s very blunt and avoiding me. It might just be my severe anxiety but these are all things I’ve pieced to together.

Known her for 20 years both females in our 30s. The things that are the most important to me, like social Justice (which is 99% of my career + passion), recognizing and celebrating marginalized communities, diversity, having an open mind on how the world is changing , not being racist or homophobic…. She’s none of that. She’s ignorant. She also doesn’t make her kid go to school because I guess dealing with his mental health + the school is too much for her. … and he plays video games all day. He’s almost a teenager and I already know he’s going to be failure to thrive if he isn’t already. It infuriates me
I can’t take it anymore I hate who I am when I talk to her , all I do is get angry. I have several friends that I share differences with, and everybody should be able to have their opinion on things- and I fully respect those people.
But this is too far. Her judgments about marginalized communities hits too close to home because I belong to one.
Has anybody else ever felt this way where your friends belief system or ignorance is an absolute dealbreaker? I guess I just need validation I know how to solve the problem, but I feel so alone. I’ve been angry all day.

I am a 32 year old female who works full time. In my free time I enjoy sewing, crochet, and recently gardening. I mostly sew clothing with knit fabric and I have a ton of PDF patterns. I enjoy crocheting amgurumi because it takes me longer, so I appreciate instant gratification projects. I'd love to discuss works in projects or just ideas of the next projects in mind.
No matter what I am doing, I am listening to music. Right now some of my favorite bands are Bleachers, Dance Gavin Dance, Bilmuri, Saint Motel, The Strokes. I am open to many genres, but find myself returning to the nostalgia of the 80s/90s.
My absolute favorite hobby is lounging with my cats. I have three amazing cat babies, a black cat, a calico, and a tabby. I absolutely love sharing pictures of my cats and receiving pictures of yours.
I am looking for a female that has some similiar interests to be friends and see where it goes. Ideally we will chat first and meet in person if the vibe is right so I am only looking for someone local. I am in a long term relationship so I am not looking to date.