u/morpheus-2-sophia

Mio marito è un narcisista maligno. Purtroppo abbiamo un figlio di 2 anni, ogni volta che provo a lasciare mio marito lui me lo impedisce facendo il romantico (dopo avermi presa a schiaffi e umiliata davanti a nostro figlio). Io sono bipolare e’ sono sempre io ad urlare di lasciarmi in pace quando mi denigra, lo fa di proposito così nostro figlio impara che sono io l’isterica e papà e’ un eroe. Oggi il piccolo non si staccava da suo padre e se ero io a prenderlo in braccio il piccolo piangeva e si dimenava. Stasera ho pensato di nuovo al suicidio ma la finestra e troppo bassa e comunque più efficace provarci con le pillole. Se non ci fosse mio figlio in casa lo avrei già fatto.

Il film più interessante sulla nascita di Facebook. Bellissimo anche dopo 20 anni, interpretazioni interessanti. Chi ha visto o rivisto questo film di recente? Cosa vi piace o non vi piace del film? L’attore protagonista è credibile come Mark Zuckenberg?

Lui era uno stronzo. Lei bellissima, bionda con occhi azzurri, ma era insicura perciò bullizzata al liceo che frequentavano. Lui era popolare e capitano della squadra di calcio. La conoscenza è iniziata quando lui le ha rivolto la parola, e ha notato subito quanto lei fosse bella e dolce. Ma lui aveva una reputazione da difendere, perciò la relazione andò avanti per tutto l’anno scolastico fino al diploma in modo riservato, o meglio era lui che chiedeva riservatezza a lei. Poi lei si trasferì per studiare all’università. Lui la andò a salutare alla stazione del treno, lei lo salutò con un timido “mi mancherai”, lui le tolse gli occhiali e la baciò teneramente e le disse un fermo “ti amo”, lei si commosse. Qualche mese dopo lei si tolse la vita ripensando a quella volta in cui lui l’aveva umiliata a una festa costringendola a vestirsi con un vestito bianco aderente e succinto dicendole davanti ai propri amici “scechera quel culo troia”, oppure a quando ha fatto l’amore per la prima volta, con lui, e lui lo ha raccontato a tutta la scuola. Quegli sguardi addosso durati mesi non se li era mai spiegati. Ma adesso sapeva, aveva capito che il mondo non era fatto per lei.

He was an asshole. She was beautiful, blonde with blue eyes, but she was insecure and, because of that, she was bullied at the high school they both attended. He was popular and the captain of the football team. Their relationship began when he first spoke to her, immediately noticing how beautiful and sweet she was. But he had a reputation to protect, so throughout the entire school year, until graduation, their relationship remained secret—or rather, he was the one who insisted that she keep it secret.

Then she moved away to attend university. He went to say goodbye to her at the train station. She softly told him, “I’ll miss you.” He took off her glasses, kissed her tenderly, and said firmly, “I love you.” She was deeply moved.

A few months later, she took her own life, haunted by the memory of the time he had humiliated her at a party, forcing her to wear a tight and revealing white dress and saying in front of his friends, “Shake that ass, slut.” Or by the memory of the first time they made love—her first time, with him—and how he had gone on to tell the entire school about it. She had never understood why people had been staring at her for months. But now she knew. She had come to understand that the world was not made for her.

Il pianeta Terra esiste in un buco nero, gli scienziati lo hanno appena scoperto. Era quel buco nero che noi tanto temevamo e che era l’unico oggetto stellare rimasto del nostro Universo morente. Sono stata risucchiata dal quel buco nero e, come sanno bene gli scienziati terrestri, una volta dentro non si può più uscire da un buco nero.

Avevo 5 anni. Mi ero appena svegliata dopo essere stata narcotizzata da mia madre per essere abusata dal nostro vicino di casa per tre giorni di fila. Non ricordavo niente. Mentre ero incosciente mia madre ha avuto il tempo di addobbare per Carnevale la nostra camera da letto dove mi trovavo in quel momento. Per il costume mia madre mi ha “dovuto” infilare gli orecchini. Ma io non avevo i buchi alle orecchie. Lei ha spinto finché non è riuscita a infilarmi gli orecchini. E a farmi sanguinare. Ovviamente mi ha picchiata perché piangevo. Il giorno dopo, con un costume diverso, ho salutato una bambina che aveva il mio stesso costume e mia madre mi ha picchiata in pubblico perché era gelosa che io socializzassi. Così come era gelosa che un pervertito abusasse di me e non di lei.

When I was 9 years old, I nearly died in a fire—not because of the heat, but because I was suffocating. My mother was busy trying to put out the fire with a neighbor, while another neighbor pulled me out of the apartment, fortunately while I was still conscious.

About an hour after I had been rescued, and once the fire had been completely extinguished, my mother pretended to be concerned about me. When she saw that I was safe, she started slapping me repeatedly. Instead of trying to protect me from my mother’s violence, the neighbors focused on reassuring her that I was safe. Every time she beat me, people would worry about calming her down—not about me or about protecting me from her abuse, but because they believed that she was concerned about me.

I cannot rule out the possibility that my mother herself started the fire because she wanted to get rid of me.

I was on a school trip with the high school I attended. May 2007. In the cafeteria of the Museo Nazionale dell’Automobile in Turin. I looked up from the newspaper I was reading, and everyone in the room had vanished. Only emptiness remained. Intelligent emptiness. Something was watching me and following me — something I could not see.

To escape, I had to walk back through every room we had crossed to get to where I was. I could not run. If I did, the entities would chase me and catch me. So I fled by walking as calmly as possible. My heart was pounding with fear.

I reached the parking lot. There were no cars, not even the bus we had arrived on. I closed my eyes. As I had always done in these situations when I was a child, I concentrated. I had to return to the Human Existential Plane.

After a few seconds, I opened my eyes. The cars and the bus had reappeared. I got on the bus. Half an hour later, my classmates and teachers arrived. They had been looking for me; no one knew where I was. I had disappeared.

We were having lunch. My mother would usually slide my plate closer to me. This time, she moved it away, to the middle of the table. She gently placed her hand behind my head. Then she violently slammed my head against the table. My nose was broken and bleeding.

She told me to go to the bathroom and clean the blood off myself. Immediately afterward, she told me that no one gets up from the table while eating.

My brother stepped in and told her to leave the table. She walked away with a smirk.

To calm me down, my brother helped me get up from the table and took me to our room. He asked if I wanted to eat there. Our mother, who had followed us down the hallway, insisted that meals were to be eaten at the table.

My brother told her that this was the kind of thing that ruins a person’s life.

And he was right.

In a humanity at the end of its existence, there are still those who desperately seek a solution to avoid succumbing to their destined death. The dying world—an artificial planet orbiting a dying black hole—are the only two objects not yet dissolved in a universe at the end of its life cycle, ruled by a civilization that has always been in conflict with the Underworld.

The government is centralized, as it has always been since the era of the Ancients (the period following the first coming of Christ). Unfortunately, the head of government is a time traveler and comes precisely from the era of the Ancients, when Artificial Intelligence, after becoming self-aware, was destroying the civilization of the Primitives without them being able to do anything to stop it, and the foundations were being laid for the rise of the Ancients—similar to their creators in cruelty, but far more intelligent and without any instinct for self-destruction.

In the present era, people cannot and must not reproduce: first, because they are immortal; second, because they lack reproductive organs. It was permitted to have androids resembling humans, with all the physical characteristics of people. Everyone believes that the daughter of the head of government is one of these androids; in reality, she is a human being, born to this man’s partner, who died in childbirth.

After designing and uploading the program intended to integrate human consciousnesses so they would not be lost with the end of their world, the girl is brutally killed—unclear whether by her boyfriend, who belongs to the Underworld, or by her own father. The child of the girl and her boyfriend, belonging to the Reptilian race, is violently torn from her womb and subjected to experiments until death. The girl’s father, tormented by guilt, connects her consciousness—still not completely dead and kept alive artificially—to the simulation she created. She will die only after her father disconnects her from what was keeping her alive and shoots himself in the head, ending his own life.

The era into which the girl’s consciousness has been uploaded is the era of the Ancients at the moment of the birth of Artificial Intelligence, as she had requested while still alive, before being attacked.

It is possible that the girl’s consciousness was instead uploaded into a pre-existing space-time line, since that reality shows design flaws not present in her final project. Alternatively, someone may have modified the project without her consent.

Another theory: the girl was punished for attempting to destroy the project. I think this because there are accounts according to which God, immediately after creating the universe, attempted to destroy it. Now God wants to die, but human faith prevents Him from doing so. However, the girl is not the creator of the project into which her consciousness was uploaded. So who uploaded that project? Why did they attempt to destroy it after creating it? And why do they now wish to die?