Everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY, on the internet calls caving or spelunking "cave diving".

PSA people, cave diving and caving are not the same. Cave diving involves literal diving. Hence the name cave diving. You use scuba gear and dive into a cave that is submerged underwater.

You only wanted me at night

You only wanted me at night.

I would do for now. None of the others responded, or they had other plans. You couldn't bear to sleep alone, so I guess I would do.

You tried to disguise it as a friendship. You'd put on music or a YouTube video. My favorite was the bears!

You'd talk to me about work, the union, renovations, hunting, NASCAR, and, on rare occasions, politics. That one always ended up frustrating you. My views seemed crazy to you. Acceptance. What a terrifying idea!

At least you were polite about it when you'd reached your limit. I heard you yell once, even if you won't admit it. I heard you yell once.

It was scary at first, but then trauma took over and whispered, Now this turns you on so much.

You told me you only wanted me in bed. I always enjoyed going three or four rounds with you. There was so much feeling in the way you touched me. Deny it all you want, but it was there. That thing between us.

You liked my attention. For a while, you even craved it.

You told me you loved me first. I enjoyed hearing those words so much, but I couldn't return them. I truly didn't believe you meant them.

I misunderstood what you meant when you said, "I have to be a better person."

You were never a bad person to me.

But I should have realized then. You were never going to choose a life with me by your side. Whatever love was there only seemed to exist when you wanted me to pleasure you.

I became a doormat, believing that one day you'd go back to loving me again.

That was never going to happen.

The last time you pulled away from me, I saw it in your eyes. The lack of interest. The way you quickly turned your gaze from mine and walked away.

I died a little in that moment.

I knew then that I needed to stay away.

But then night came.

My body craved you so badly. As soon as I lay down alone in my bed, I wanted to reach out and touch you. To feel you there beside me. To have one more night where I could pretend I was something more.

But there was no response.

I have to get used to that.

My feelings were never your concern. As long as I could pleasure you, we were good.

Until I couldn't anymore.

You stopped finding pleasure in me. There was someone else who had your attention. She had kind of always been there. But when you didn't have access to her, I would do.

Not anymore.

There is no pleasure left in being someone's second choice. No comfort in knowing I was good enough when no one else was available.

One last hug, with a boob grab as you exited my car.

Fitting, really.

My tits were always your favorite. They were the first part of me you said hello to every time we were together.

Only at night.

Always at night.

Whole of my life I was waiting for somebody to understand me a certain way, to love me a certain way and to care for me a certain way.

Like the picture is clear in my mind what is the perfect person i imagine for myself. But recently, I have realised looking for such a relationship outside oneself is the biggest mistake a person could do.

Like why should I wait for somebody else to treat me a certain way.

Why shouldn't i build that relation with myself. When I exactly know how should I be behaved, why don't I start putting in efforts for my own self.

This is the best advice that anybody could ever had given to me.

Don't wait for the perfect person to heal you or change your life. Start changing it the moment a though comes. Don't wait for others just do it for yourself.

Like I feel there could be many persons like me existing in this world. Those who are waiting to be treated right when the right person to treat them in the best possible is they themselves.

And these are those persons who have been doing willingly for others whole of their life. But are late to realise this relationship with themselves.

If i was r!oting i’d be saccaging something that is a symbol of Fr4nce’s oligarchy like a museum or Stock exchange. Anything that has significance for the Fr3nch government that would make them shake in their boots.

bins* lmao

My post itself wasn't anything bad, at all. There's this music fella I follow, and probably 90% of my social media activity is just trying to boost his signal. I just saw him in concert last week, two shows in a row in Los Angeles, and I put up a post and a story of one of the songs he did.

But I've always been a lurker on TikTok, never made a post, only the occasional comment. Almost everything about that platform I find skeevy and untrustworthy. It feels dishonest to me, full of fake accounts and ulterior motives. And yet - I posted.

I don't know what came over me. And what is perhaps worse, I feel absolutely disinclined to delete my post. For whatever reason, I've stepped into the cesspool, and here I stand...

Thank you for listening. I had to tell someone and was too ashamed to tell anyone I know, in person

Sorry for any spelling mistakes in advance.

When I tried to login into googleclassroom using my account I got thrown into captha that required to write some code using one of two ways: by reading and copying or by hearing and mimicking. I could't read the words (some f up latin letters) so I clicked the speaker option and suddenly like a hundreds of voices started to blast in my head. Not screaming, just... talking. I got so scared I almsot shit my pants. My heart was beating so fast I though I'll have a heart attack. I had to manually close the site and then it stopped. WTFF?

I tried to open it again, but nothing happens. It's just normal login using google account. The only notable thing I remember when trying for the first time was that I was thinking about my gmail. Like think about it, your official mail adress. Usually it's your Real Name and like for exemple numbers. This exact combination is one of a kind. Your exact type. No one else has it.

I typed my password, got a weird captha. It was in a small rectangle with orange-red letters on whiteish background. The fount was like a reversed cursive put through a twirl. The text changed one time when I was trying to read it, so I guessed it must be time based (i'm dyslexic so that's like an impossible chellange for me) and that's why I tried the listening one. I literally thought nothing of it when I clicked on the sound. And then this shit? I wish I had the wits to record it before I panic quit.

I have an online meeting in a couple of minutes and I'm still scared shitless.

What's yor advice? Should I contact a doctor, a psychiatrist, or maybe... a priest?

The fact most of em re the same yet we chose to watch and read em somehow well knowing all are the same ending. Hoping get something more of em and still satisfied with that .It's like watching the same story in different time lines . I think that's it why I like​ it . I hope ya all find true love someday ❤️‍🩹.(No hate)

Everyone is focused on the lines about women’s shorts but the most important line was said at the end. “That’s it you’re either gay or your Hitler, isn’t that where we’re at as a country” and he’s 100% correct. The left sees everyone who supports trump as Nazis and the trump supporters think anyone that doesn’t support trump is a gay terrorist sympathizer.

We’ve lost all nuance and detail in this country and everyone now paints with broad strokes. It seems we as a nation have decided that how one votes is the only thing of importance about a person.

I understand why people feel the way they do with everything this administration has done thus far this term but I’d be willing to bet most people didn’t think this would be how it went. Yes they’re responsible for causing it by voting them into power but I can’t be mad at the ones that recognize they made a mistake or realize they were lied to and repent and attempt to make things right in the future. Those who continue to support it after seeing the truth are just rotten imo.

The reality is propaganda works and we the people have been heavily heavily propagandized since birth. It’s hard to escape your upbringing. Even the Bible recognizes this when it says “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” In proverbs 22:6. Many of these people were raised in environments that fostered racism and bigotry so for them to escape that way of thinking means relearning a lot of things. It’s not as simple as saying ok I’m not going to be racist. That’s how they start the process but racism is so ingrained in their thinking it’s very difficult to get it out. When you grow up with something being normal you never question it.

I have a cousin in Mississippi well a few but most aren’t racist even the ones who use the N word. They don’t use it out of malice it’s what Black people have always been called when they were growing up. I was super uncomfortable about it and to his credit when I talked to him about it he first was shocked because he didn’t know that was offensive. He said “that’s just what you call em” like that’s how ingrained this stuff is in some places. To be clear that doesn’t justify or excuse it but it explains why some people can say the n word and then say they’re not racist. Now days most people could t make that case but this was in the early 90’s before the internet took off. He had spent his whole life in his little town and spring break at Daytona beach. I grew up in a diverse SF Bay Area so we had a lot of instances where I was (often vocally) uncomfortable with the casual racism.

Im addicted to talking shit to people on Fb & IG. I have been banned from Reddit 3 times and IG 4 times. I only do it when I’m in a mood. If I’m feeling good I have no desire to do it. I just want to share memes and cool post with friends and family but I keep ending up fighting with strangers and getting banned.

You wake-up okay, your doing okay and and you think is something bad or good gonna happen today, so you over think the whole day if you did anything wrong yesterday or the day back or anything particular containing bad or good, so you just observe your surrounding being careful and the whole day nothing really fucking happened you just wasted 1 normal day.

It has been a dream ive secretly had but never dared to hope being asked. The honor of being a godfather. My best friend and his girl together asked me. It is truly humbling… ive never felt so deeply happy

Some girl randomly messaged me today on my number. It was a new number so I had no idea who it was and almost thought it was a scam. Turns out it was some girl I hadn't seen in years saying that she had moved back to my city and wanted to hang out. I could barely even remember who it was. I feel like it reeks of desperation and just seems sad.

I work at a boat yard, the owner just bought a new car that costs more than I make in a year. Many of the boats I work on cost more than I'll make in my whole life time. Recently my back started hurting bad. Fml

Looking for new jobs, but it's hard to get hired outside of the trades when that's what you've done your whole life.

just got home from the hospital today. ama

Maybe users who aren't writers have no clue the energy it takes to put together a profound post with well thorough placed text and structure with focus on correct grammar and a tone that is suitable while also remaining at topic at hand and keeping it organized. Maybe all you know is how bots do it. But I'm from a time when humans was the main authors.

The same people who made news paper articles , essays, or books, made reddit posts or other writings. Today they all are compared with bots. But from my view I don't see constant slop or fake content. I see authors still trying, topics, still mattering. I don't panic when I see structure in a post, I'm not paralysed by my own ego in trying to control content or sources behind them, I don't get anxiety from a positive tone in what I read , and it must be insufferable to never relax online.

And to the authors who gave up and moved over to AI (since they are never credited anyways.) Your haters was your AI advertisement. It's on them that you weren't appreciated for your own work.

It’s just past 9 PM here in New Zealand, and I’m boiling a small pot of dumplings again. I had originally cooked them at 9 AM for my family; I’d hurriedly boiled the water and cooked them for a few minutes, but realized there wasn't enough time to finish cooking them—let alone eat them—so I gave up. We had a drive of over an hour to Christchurch to renew my son’s expired passport, and our appointment window was tight. Fortunately, we weren't late; even though we were missing some documents, the staff at the embassy were kind enough to help us resolve the issue. Now that we’re back, I’ve been curled up on the sofa watching a production of Arthur Miller’s *Death of a Salesman*—a version directed by Miller himself in Beijing decades ago, featuring a cast of brilliant Chinese actors, some of whom have since passed away. I decided to watch it because, while weeding the garden the other afternoon, I happened to listen to a podcast discussing the play. Having just finished the performance—which runs about two hours and forty minutes—I watched as old Willy died, with no outsiders there to attend his funeral. Just then, my son stepped away from his PS5, returned to the living room, and picked up his phone. Thinking about Willy’s family story and my own, I felt an urge to step outside for a cigarette and talk to someone. I only joined Reddit a few days ago; I originally intended to find ways to promote a social app I’m developing, but simply chatting here is great, too—otherwise, I might not have been able to shake this heavy mood tonight. Sorry if this isn't the most upbeat post—if it’s not appropriate here, I’ll share it elsewhere. Hope you all have a good evening.My English isn't great—using it feels like trying to do embroidery while wearing oven mitts—so I used Google Translate for this. Please bear with me.

现在是新西兰晚上9点多，我正在重新煮一小锅饺子。这是我早上9点钟爬起来为家人煮的，当时我慌里慌张地烧开了一壶水，煮了几分钟，但发现时间不够煮熟，更来不及吃，所以就放弃了。我们要开一个多小时的车去基督城为儿子补办过期的护照，而预约的使馆时间不多。好在我们没有迟到，尽管我们缺了文件，感谢使馆的同胞，热心帮我们解决了问题。现在回来了，我窝在沙发上看了一部米勒的话剧，推销员之死，是几十年前米勒在北京亲自导演，一群了不起的中国演员演出的，他们中的有些早已过世。我看这部剧，是因为前天下午在花园拔杂草时，偶然听了一个探讨这部剧的播客。现在我看完了这部剧，大概2小时40分，老威利死了，没什么外人为他送葬。那时我儿子离开ps5，回到了客厅，又拿起手机。我想到老威利一家的故事，想到我自己的故事，忍不住跑去外面抽了一根烟，想找人说点什么。我来reddit没几天，本来是想找机会为我做了一半的社交应用在未来做点推广，但在这里只是说说话也很不错，要不然，这一晚心情可能都过不去。抱歉不太积极，如果不合适我会换一个地方，希望你们有好的一晚。英文不好，用起来像带着烤箱手套绣花，所以这是google翻译的，见谅。

Today while travelling to my work place I came across a dog. It was crying like humans due to some reason. All the passers just crossed him without paying due attention. Then I noticed that a man consoled it by saying few loving words. He adored him a bit with love and magically the dog was quite.

Even without touching or doing anything just few words of love touched that soul.

Likewise we humans are roaming on this earth with a little desire to be loved. A few words of empathy can soothe many souls.

I want to tell you about something that happened in my house last week. It is a simple story, but it made me think a lot about family and memory.

My grandfather passed away five years ago. Before he died, he gave me his old metal wristwatch. It was not expensive or fancy, just a simple winding watch he wore every single day. I kept it inside a small wooden box on my bedroom desk. The watch had been completely broken for years, and the hands were stuck forever at 3:15. I never tried to fix it because I liked keeping it just the way he left it.

Last Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk working on my laptop. The house was totally quiet. Suddenly, I heard a soft ticking sound right next to my laptop.

I stopped typing and looked around. The sound was coming directly from inside the wooden box. I opened the lid, picked up the watch, and held it to my ear. It was actually ticking. The second hand was moving around the face smoothly, as if someone had just wound it up a few seconds ago.

I checked the current time on my phone. It was 3:15 PM.

I stood there for a minute just staring at the watch in my hand. I tried to think of a normal, logical reason. Maybe I bumped the desk and somehow moved the gear inside? Maybe the temperature in the room changed? But no matter how hard I tried to explain it away, I couldn't ignore the exact timing. It started right at 3:15 PM, the exact time printed on the face.

The watch ticked steadily for about ten minutes, moving all the way to 3:25 PM, and then it quietly stopped again.

I called my mother later that evening and told her what happened. She stayed silent on the phone for a long moment, and then she told me something I never knew before. My grandfather was born at 3:15 in the afternoon, and 3:25 PM was the exact time my grandmother gave him that watch on their wedding day sixty years ago.

I put the watch back inside its wooden box on my desk. It hasn't ticked again since Tuesday, and I don't think it ever will. But now, whenever I look at that little wooden box, I don't just see a broken piece of metal anymore. I see a quiet reminder of two people who loved each other very much, and I feel glad that I get to keep a small part of their story with me.

Sometimes I just go into Google and search things like "Elon Musk looks like silly shit and everyone is laughing at him" or "Donald Tump is a nasty mouth-breathing dumbass and all women are creeped out by his dry little baby hands" or "No one on earth has ever loved Pete Hegseth and he cries about it every night" because I want it to come up as a search. Or maybe because I want AI to understand how the people feel. Or because I want to send a sick burn into the ether. Maybe I want to see if someone else out there has googled the same thing for the same reason. It's a weird thing to do, but i always feel better afterwards. Just to put a lil' truth out there.

I was lied to and left and I quit crack with a man I fell in love with now I relapsed. I want to use again and I need support. I really don't have anyone

The layout was confusing and it felt like you were constantly one mistake from pressing on the wrong thing and ending up lost amongst all film clips.

The never stop repeated ultra short clips felt like some mental torture. It felt like my brain had no chance to start getting used to a clip or a song before next came, so it was like my attention span wasn't ever fully present but rather scattered around in tiny bits all over the screen so I didn't really perceive anything I looked at.

I also got tired in my head very fast, similar to when there's thunder in the air and you feel that heaviness or pressure.

I also felt a huge stress when seeing THERE IS NO ENDING to all film clips, it's a never ending scroll trap, so if someone wanted to scroll for 3 days, they'd get 3 days of new content.

Comparing to reddit:

On reddit you can also scroll down the content, but you have an ending. You have a finish where you've read through all that has shown up in your latest feed and old content is showing. It's also less sounds colours blinking effects and all those extra dopamine visuals and it's mainly text, simple layout with little distractions. The only downside with reddit is the new respond system from a phone. But it's probably still a beta test version.

Edit: I struggle with anxiety and have a sensitive nervous system, thus am very selective with what I'm exposing myself to on my device. I don't follow the news, I'm not on Tiktok or Instagram. I'm taking social media breaks on off. My read reciepts and other stress notifications that are totally uneccesary are all disabled. I make sure my life is offline and that I'm present for the people inside it. If people with anxiety goes on Tiktok they can expect activated hyperviligance and I don't think I need to explain why that's a bad idea. If someone with mental struggles needs a sign to take their social media use serious and restrict it, this is it. You don't get much else support as the norm is to be constantly anxious or restless or feeling on edge. But if someone know how the other side feels like, they make sure to remain there.

So. Tiktok gets 🌟 of 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

When I was young my mom used to cry a lot, atleast once a week and she used to get down on all 4 and crawl around while she cried. I asked her why and she just always said “it’s mommy’s spider time” and never elaborated further. She stopped doing it eventually and I never brought it up to her as an adult.