u/No-Extent6863

Hello, I have a short story that, every time I think about what I experienced, I get goosebumps. Every single time, especially when I talk about it out loud.
This happened when I was around 6-8 years old. I honestly don’t know exactly how old I was, but I know I was younger than 10.

Back then, I slept in the same bed as my mom and my older sister. My mom slept on the right side of the bed, on the edge, and I slept in the middle. I remember I would always wake my mom up so she could go to the bathroom with me, which was just a few steps to the right of our bedroom door. I also don’t really remember the correct timeline or whether this happened before or after my mom’s dad’s funeral. (I’m mentioning my mom’s dad because I’ve always wondered if the figure I saw could have been him. But he wasn’t anywhere near 2 meters tall, so I really don’t know.)

The experience began on what seemed like a regular night. Honestly, I don’t know what time it was, but it was definitely the middle of the night because it was dark outside. I woke up because dogs were barking. Like usual, I really needed to pee, so I tried to wake my mom up, but that night she was in a really deep sleep. It was actually the first time she didn’t wake up. I also tried to wake my sister, but she was in a deep sleep too.
Thinking back now, I wasn’t scared of the dark or anything like that. It was just a habit I liked my mom to go with me.

So what happened next is something I still don’t fucking understand, and it’s so fucking creepy. When I was crawling down from the bed, I need you to imagine me as a little girl, kind of scoot-crawling, with my face toward the bed and my butt up as I was climbing down. Now that I’m 23, I know what I saw, and it freaks me out, but back then it didn’t.

While I was crawling down,my mom was on my left side. There was a woman’s head between my mom’s legs, right around her crotch. And now, when I really think back to that night, the room or the atmosphere felt foggy and eerie. Guys, the creepy part was that the woman’s head was upside down, and she was smiling. And that’s not even everything. Her hair was so long that it trailed all the way to the door. (I still don’t know why I wasn’t scared when I saw the woman.) Again, I don’t remember being scared back then. As I was walking toward the door, I was looking at the hair on the floor. When I opened the door, straight ahead was our living room, which had about three steps leading down into it.

That’s where I saw a tall black figure. Its head reached the roof, and our living room was about 2 meters tall, so it was really tall. It was definitely facing me, but I couldn’t actually tell because it was completely pitch black. You could only see its outline. Luckily, I guess I had human instincts even as a child, because I held my pee that night. That’s all I remember. I guess I went back to bed and forgot about it after that.

Guys, I really want to know what you think I saw, or why. And what would have happened if I didn’t have that instinct that the figure might have been dangerous? What if I had been a very curious and “dumb” child and walked toward it? And what the fuck was the woman’s head?

It’s my birthday today I’m 23 now and got me thinking: why do we only get older on the one day we were born? Shouldn’t everyone just get older every year on January 1 — like, literally everyone’s birthday?

I want to tell you a story about the man who accidentally taught me every red flag I know today. I was born in 2003 and he was born in 2001.
We met online at the end of 2024. I lived in northern Sweden and he lived in the south, about fourteen hours away. Looking back, the first red flag appeared almost immediately.
He love-bombed me.
Long romantic messages. Passionate texts. Constant attention. At the time, I thought he was an INFJ. He seemed emotional, deep, caring, and incredibly interested in me. My gut told me it was a bit overwhelming, but I was lonely and I wanted to believe it was genuine.
So I ignored my intuition.
When he offered to travel hours to meet me, I thought it was a huge gesture. Part of me thought maybe I was special. Looking back, that’s honestly funny. You don’t become that special to someone you’ve never met. What happened was that I wanted to believe I had finally found someone who shared my values.
That was his greatest trick.
Not the romance.
Not the compliments.
The fact that he convinced me we were the same.
We both loved classical music. (I did) We seemed to have the same values. We judged situations similarly. I remember thinking, “Nobody could fake this this well.”
Turns out they can. But not perfect. I just made it seem perfect at the time.
The moment I saw him in person, I had two reactions.
First: he was handsome.
Second: my stomach dropped.
There was something about him that immediately felt wrong. I can’t explain it logically. It was just a feeling. It was like standing next to someone who was constantly calculating something.
The funny thing was that he was extremely nervous and I wasn’t.
The man was sweating so much that I eventually told him to take a shower and put on deodorant.
He didn’t bring deodorant.
Imagine dressing like a Stockholm fashion model while forgetting basic hygiene.
That should have been impressive, but not in the way he intended.
When we sat down together, I expected conversation. I had questions ready. That’s how I connect with people. If I like someone, I want to understand them.
Instead, he seemed impatient.
Not to know me.
To kiss me.
Everything felt rushed.
When I asked why, he said he was just excited to finally meet me.
At the time, I accepted that answer.
Today, I don’t.
Later we went bowling.
I was having fun. I was winning.
He wasn’t.
At one point he asked if I had played before. I told him yes, years ago, but that I had never taken lessons.
For some reason this made him angry.
Actually angry.
He accused me of lying.
I remember feeling my stomach sink. My body was trying to tell me something.
Then I slipped, injured my nail, and started bleeding.
While I was hurt, he stood there staring at the floor like an angry child before eventually helping me up.
If I could go back in time, that’s the moment I would tell myself to leave.
But here’s the thing about red flags.
People rarely show you only red flags.
They mix them with beautiful moments.
And those beautiful moments make you doubt yourself.
He would suddenly stop me in the street just to kiss me. He would create these romantic movie scenes that made me forget what happened five minutes earlier.
At dinner, I asked him about his previous relationship.
His response?
“That’s a red-flag question.”
No, it isn’t.
If someone treats normal curiosity like a problem, they’re usually hiding something.
And he was.
The relationship moved fast.
Too fast.
One day we were showering together and he looked me in the eyes and said:
“I love you.”
In English.
We’re Swedish.
The weird thing wasn’t the language.
The weird thing was that I felt absolutely nothing.
No warmth.
No butterflies.
Nothing.
It felt empty.
Looking back, I think English gave him emotional distance. It was easier to say the words without fully owning them.
A few weeks later he said it again while we were outside in the dark doing an ice bath at three in the morning. Then he asked me to be his girlfriend.
And I said yes.
A few months later I visited him and met his family. They were rich.
That’s when I saw a completely different version of him.
Around his parents, he wasn’t confident or warm. He was bitter. Childish. Almost resentful.
The chemistry I thought we had completely disappeared.
I remember sitting there thinking:
“Who is this person?”
The more time I spent around him, the more I felt like the version I met online had been a performance.
Then came the biggest shock.
I Googled him.
What I found made my stomach drop.
Court documents.
Prison records.
Criminal charges.
Things he had never told me.
When I confronted him, the first thing he asked wasn’t how I felt.
It wasn’t an apology.
It wasn’t an explanation.
It was:
“You Googled me?”
That was the moment I realized his concern wasn’t what he had done.
His concern was getting caught.
From that point forward, everything started making sense.
The secrecy.
The defensiveness.
The manipulation.
The constant feeling that something wasn’t adding up.
Later, I moved to a new city because we had talked about building a future together there.
Then he changed his mind.
Just like that.
The future we had planned suddenly wasn’t a future anymore.
The worst part wasn’t that he changed his mind.
The worst part was realizing he probably never intended to follow through in the first place.
Eventually he became colder and colder.
More distant.
More irritated.
One day I reached for his phone to change a song and he reacted like I was trying to access classified government secrets.
At that point I knew.
The relationship was already dead.
Neither of us had said it yet.
But I knew.
Then he disappeared for a month.
When he finally came back, I asked him something simple:
“If you’re going to treat me like this, why don’t you just break up with me?”
His answer was that he loved me.
By then, those words meant nothing.
Because love isn’t something you say.
It’s something you consistently do.
The final thing he sent me was a photo of himself dressed up and looking his absolute best.
Hours later he disappeared again.
I called.
No answer.
And that’s when something strange happened.
I wasn’t heartbroken.
I was clear.
For the first time, everything made sense.
The love bombing.
The lies.
The manipulation.
The performance.
The future faking.
Everything.
If you’re wondering what I learned from all of this, it’s actually quite simple.
Shared interests are not shared values.
Liking the same music, books, or hobbies tells you almost nothing about a person’s character. Values are revealed through decisions, accountability, consistency, and behavior under pressure.
Chemistry is not compatibility.
Attraction can make someone interesting. It cannot make them trustworthy.
Attention is not love.
Anyone can give attention. Love requires honesty, responsibility, and actions that remain consistent when there is nothing left to gain.
Most importantly, intuition is pattern recognition happening faster than conscious thought.
My mind was still collecting evidence while my body had already reached a conclusion.
The signs were there from the beginning.
I saw them.
I questioned them.
Then I explained them away because I wanted the story to be true more than I wanted the facts to be true.
That was my mistake.
The relationship ended exactly where it was always going to end. The only thing that changed was how long it took me to accept it.
Ironically, the most valuable thing he gave me wasn’t love, trust, or a future.
It was proof.
Proof that my instincts were working the entire time.
Now, when something feels wrong, I don’t argue with myself anymore.
I pay attention. (It turns out he’s an INTJ—I had him take the test before things got worse.)

At work one day, our manager told me and three coworkers nearby to take our break together in the lunchroom and have some donuts. I usually avoid the lunchroom. There is another break room that is quiet and private, and that’s where I prefer to be. Eating there isn’t really allowed, but I still do it and no one has said anything. Officially, everyone is expected to sit in the lunchroom, where the same kinds of conversations happen every day.

The manager also said he would have a short meeting with us there, so I didn’t have much choice. I had to sit with three coworkers I don’t talk to. We’ve never made an effort to get to know each other. There’s just distance and occasional side glances.

While we were waiting, they talked about their boyfriends, their plans, makeup they bought on sale, and complimented each other. I wear makeup too, but only to look awake at work. After a while, they started talking about food and the weather. It was raining.
I thought to myself that food seems better when it rains, and that I might get a kebab later. I said it out loud without thinking much.

They all looked at me. One of them said, “Oh really? I’ve never thought of it that way.” Their reaction made it clear that my comment stood out.
So I explained. I said it’s mostly psychological—rain makes people feel calm and comfortable, which can make food feel more enjoyable, even though it doesn’t actually change the taste.

Right after I finished, the manager walked in, which ended the moment.
After that, I only spoke to them when it was necessary for work.

,INTJ