Body armor drink 28 oz

It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything. My life has become a constant drudgery, even special events have become dull. My son’s fourteenth birthday was a few weeks ago, but it could’ve happened yesterday, or the month before, it’s all been melding into one. I still remember though; I remember being in that moment, and I can tell you the exact details of what occurred, who was there, but I can’t for the life of me remember how it meant to me. I was simply a presence, a bystander. I think my son was happy, I hope he was.
The tasks in my life that were once a burden have become noise to me. In a way I suppose that’s a good thing. I can work my ass off all day, get treated like a dog, and I would be none the wiser. I’m not exactly sure when this happened, I used to hate my job. I guess somewhere along the way I got lobotomized in my sleep. That would explain it. At least I can provide for my son this way.
He reminds me of myself in more ways that I’d like to admit. He’s a pleasure seeker, and the friends that he’s made push these hedonistic tendencies. On his birthday he came back home absolutely plastered, and I should’ve been furious, but it didn’t affect me at. Hell I even offered him another drink. At his age I sought the same type of stimulus, the same type that I yearn for today, so in a way I am living vicariously through him. He’s a good kid though, he’s on this path but he’s not anchored to it. He refused the drink and went to bed. As a father what I did was not good, but as bystander I wish he took it. I wish he prolonged his euphoria. I wish I could see him live.
They’ve been advertising this new medication all over TV. It’s a pill that gives you constant nightmares when you sleep. It’s been all over the news actually. Some people are up in arms about, and for some folks it’s a godsend, folks like me. In my mind this seems like the stimulus I have been craving for so long, but I can’t stop thinking about my son. What happened on his birthday was a moment of weakness. I couldn’t let him know I stooped so low to get a high. Seeking the pleasures in life is one thing, but seeking fear is another. The road my son is on mirrors my own, and I don’t want him to become nullified in the same way. But at this point, he’s becoming a young man before my eyes, and I am indifferent. I need to feel something, I need to be present, not a presence.
After meeting with my doctor, I received the prescription, 30 pills for 30 days. She sternly informed me of the side effects, about how easy it is to overdose, but like all other stimuli in life, it became white noise. But at last, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could finally feel again, and I couldn’t wait to fall asleep. I waited until the lights in my son’s room went off, and after I saw that he had fallen asleep, I could begin. I sat upright on my bed and pulled out the prescription bottle from my drawer. I took another look, scanned it up and down, maybe even considering a reason not to take it. On the label was a warning sign
“Do not take two doses within a 12-hour period”.
“Good to know” I thought to myself, and I popped open the bottle, took a gulp from my glass of water, and closed my eyes.
Thirty minutes passes, and then an hour, and no effect. Worthless scam. My eyes blasted open, but when I tried to get up, my limbs were numb. I tried closing my eyes again…nothing. I tried breathing and I realized I was suffocating; I couldn’t move any part of my body whatsoever. The sweat from my forehead rolled into my open eye. I couldn’t move, but I could experience pain. As the asphyxiation engulfed me, my bedroom became blurry.
“This is it" I thought, I am about to die.
With each passing second my vision faded until finally, as I imagined would be the last moment of my life, the pain stopped. I could breathe again, and sure enough I rose from my prone position and stood up. I look around, everything is in its normal place. I take a deep breath in relief. Now that the worst was over, I got up to examine the pill bottle. The warning was no longer in English, but instead covered in strange markings.
Suddenly I was dragged down by an unbelievable force through my bedroom floor into a black abyss. There was an extremely loud sound that sounded like deep breathing and I felt as if something was watching my descent. At an instant I fell on a sandy bottom. I looked around, but it was so dark that I could only see at an arms reach. I trudged through the sand, stepping on what felt like organic material occasionally. At last, I reached a metal industrial door, like one you’d see in large freezer. On it was some type of text or message, I squinted my eyes attempting to read it. It was in that same language on the pill bottle. My eyes wander down and I notice a door handle. My heart is beating faster than when I was dying. I smile and reach for it.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
My eyes tear open as if they were glued. I’m back in my room, I can breathe. I realized that I forgot to turn off my Saturday alarm. I exhale in a sense of relief when I noticed something wet underneath me. Damn I pissed my bed… Understandably, I jumped up and exclaimed upon realization. I hear footsteps coming sprinting towards my room. My son opens the door and sees me in my current state.
“Dad are you ok?”, my son said.
“Oh, yeah…I’m fine, just had a bad dream”
My son notices my soaked trousers and bed sheets.
“Are you…feeling alright?” he says.
My cheeks become bright red.
“Oh um…I just…”
My darting eyes reach the half empty water glass.
“Yeah I just spilled a bit when I was taking my medicine”
My heart froze. I didn’t hide the bottle last night. My son’s eyes meandered to the pill bottle on my dresser, and then back to mine. After what seemed like an eternity, my son perked a smile.
“I think you’re just getting old Dad”.
With that he laughed and rolled his eyes while closing the door. Silence at last. I began to laugh quietly to myself. I couldn’t believe it, but I finally felt something again. I could feel the warm embrace of the sunshine seeping through the blinds of my window.
I walk into the kitchen to find my son cooking breakfast. The sweet scent of the bacon permeates my olfactory senses. I take a moment to listen. I hear the low hum of the air conditioner, the upbeat banter of daytime television, and even ever so faintly, the songs of birds outside. I find myself grinning ear to ear. My son places a plate consisting of tater tots, eggs, and bacon in front of me.
“Someone’s chipper today”, he says.
I smile at him.
“Yeah…yeah I’m feeling good”.
My son leans against a wall and tosses a tater tot into his mouth.
“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad dream after all”, he says.
I snag a tater tot off my plate and do the same.
“Honestly I don’t remember what it was about”.
I felt at peace…or at least it appeared so. I took a bite of my breakfast, but with each chew the flavor began dissipating. I squint, the sunshine has become dull and bright. My hand begins to tremble as I feel an object in pajama pocket. I feel a compulsion to reach down. I slowly retrieve the object from my pocket. My eyes widen and my heart begins to race…it’s the prescription bottle, and the English text is replaced once again with a foreign language. I gawk at it sitting in the palm of my hand, and my lips start to form a smile.
“Dad!”
I snap out of it and stuff the bottle back into my pocket. My son is standing behind the kitchen counter.
“Do you want any more bacon before I put it away?”.
“Uh…no thank you, I’m alright for now”
My son stares at me with a charged look.
“All right…” he says.
I quickly regain my composure.
“Son, do you have any plans tonight?”
“Yeah I think Devin’s having some people over tonight…unless you wanted to do something?”
I feign a smile.
“No, no, have fun with your friends!”
“All…right, cool…” my son says.
I jump.
“But maybe we can do something tomorrow?”
My son ponders for a moment.
“I was actually gonna go to Luka’s basketball game tomorrow. A bunch of my friends wanna support him, ya know?…”
He sees a hint of sadness in my eyes.
“But after we could figure something out!” he exclaims.
I smile.
“Yes…that sounds great!”
My son nods and walks out the kitchen door. My hand is still trembling. I look down to see that I had been gripping the bottle the whole time. I check the door; I think he’s gone. I pull the bottle out and examine it, the text has returned to normal. I exhale, I felt safe again.
I hear the door slam closed followed my son’s car screeching out the driveway. He asked if he could spend the night at Devin’s and I complied. It’s seven o’clock in the evening…perfect. I purchased a plastic mattress cover to avoid last night’s mishap, so I put it on the bed, strip naked and sit the mattress. There is a part of me that feels a slight embarrassment at my current situation, but honestly, I’ve been caught doing worse. I also purchased a water-resistant blanket, so I’m not a complete degenerate.
I pull the bottle out from the drawer. The label’s in English…great. I purposefully put the bottle into the drawer and hide it under some of the junk in there, and for good measure, I set my alarm for five in the morning, just in case my son came home early. I pop a pill into my mouth and swallow.
Immediately I am pulled down into the abyss. Darkness has now overcome my entire vision. I am moving extremely fast, much faster than last time. I swear I even feel my ears popping from the change in pressure. BAM!
I slam into the sandy bottom once more. I take a few moments to catch my breath when I notice a light in the distance. It shines an iridescent purple color, unlike I had ever seen. Immediately my feet began trudging towards it, almost automatically. I carefully amble over what seems like a sea of organic matter. I have no inclination of what exactly I’m walking on, but it is consumed most of the sand from before. As I approach the light, I see what I had been drawn to…the door from last night.
Although the door appeared the same as the night prior, it felt…different. I would even say it felt familiar…safe…welcoming. Before I could even think, my hand rose and grasped its handle. It’s difficult to explain, but it reminded me so much of her. I was grinning ear to ear once more. I began to twist the handle, and as I did so the iridescent light that guided me here shined brighter and brighter, once again bathing me in a warm embrace. I peer forward, filled with the most excitement in years, as I’m about to pull the door open.
“Mom! Dad!”
I stop. I look around for the source of the outcry.
“Mom! Dad! Help me! Please!
It’s my son.
Without a second thought I let go of the handle and begin sprinting towards him.
SLAM!
I face plant into the ground. Something has snagged my ankle. The iridescent light has become bright enough to illuminate the ground and…oh my goodness. Around me are what seems like thousands and decrepit bodies, all trying to claw their way out of the sand. I look down at my ankle and see a man gripping me. He has a look of desperation in his eye. I promptly kick him in the face and run off.
“Mom! Dad!”
I’m getting closer.
“Mom! Dad!”
I’m almost there.
“MOM! DAD!”
I can see him! But he’s being engulfed by the bodies and sand below. I sprint as fast as I can when…
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
I scream and flail on my bed. I take a few moments to catch my breath. I glance at the source of the noise…my alarm clock. It reads 5:00 AM. It’s morning. The sun has not fully risen yet, but the warm embrace still reaches me. I glance over at the water glass and pill bottle on top of my dresser. I exhale in relief, it’s over… I throw some clothes and head to the restroom. Fortunately, I didn’t have an accident last night, so there’s no evidence there. And thankfully I made sure to hide the pill bottle last night as well.
Wait.
I sprint back into my room to find the pill bottle on top of my dresser. I try to calm myself down. I must’ve forgotten again. It’s 5 am, there’s no way he’s home. He wouldn’t do that, he’s better than me. I take a deep breath and un-tense my body. Yeah, everything’s ok…
I jump at the pill bottle and count its contents.
“1…2…3….”
With every number my heart races.
“24…25…26………27”
My heart sinks. I burst out of my bedroom and sprint to my son’s room. I slam open the door, and my fears realized. He is lying unconscious on his bed. I check his pulse, he’s alive, but his heart rate is slow, and he’s ice cold to the touch. I panic, looking for anything to help. His slow breaths act as a ticking clock as I search for a solution. I grab a phone and begin to dial 911 when I notice something. Silence.
I rush over to my son’s side. He’s stopped breathing…but his heart is still beating, then I notice something more. All along my son’s chest and arms appear to markings materializing beneath his skin, the same markings on the pill bottle. With no other options, there’s only one action I could take to save my son. I sprint back into my room, grab a pill and swallow it.
What feels like an eternity passes, but I cannot fall asleep. I try taking other sleeping pills, I try asphyxiation, I even try knocking myself out with blunt force. But to no avail, I’m trapped here in the conscious world while my son is fading away. My emotions overcome me.
“Why isn’t it working!”
“I thought you wanted to experience true fear?” a deep voice bellowed out.
I did, whatever was talking to me was right. I wanted to feel something, fear, sadness…anything. But now I’m overcome with only one emotion…rage.
“Release my son!”
Silence.
“Release my son right now, I command you!”
Silence.
I look around the room and spot the pill bottle.
“What if I made you a deal?”
“…Go on” the voice boomed.
“If I swallow every pill in this bottle, would you let go of my son?”.
“But he’s so fresh and ripe…what do you have to offer?”.
“I don’t…I don’t know…nothing!”
Without thinking I grab the pill bottle and swallow the lot. I collapse onto the floor and begin sobbing. I’ve done it, my son has done nothing wrong and has paid the price for my wrongdoings. But wait, I refuse to live on without him. Even if his fate is sealed, I will live on every day from now living to the fullest, in his memory. If he can’t be here to experience what life has to offer, I’ll experience it twice fold!
“Deal” the voice bellowed out.
At once I began my descent into the void, seemingly at the speed of light, but even then, I saw something ascending out of the darkness. Although my fate had been sealed, my son’s is safe. So here I find myself in a sea of now millions of the damned, smiling ear to ear.

If I have a drink, it feels like heaven in the first 5 minutes. I read it's the body releasing opioids when the blood alcohol level is rising. I need to continue drinking to prolong the euphoria.
Then I just feel buzzed/drunk and get annoyed at the hours it takes to sober up. I don't filter my words as much and act stupid, but I still feel anxiety inside mentally.
Can anyone relate?

When I first watched Heathers: The Musical, believe it or not, I fucking hated Heather Duke. My favourite character back then was Heather Chandler, because she’s a mythic bitch. Then, I realised I hated Heather Duke because she was too much like me.
But that’s not the point. My point is, Heather Duke is considered by many to be an extremely hatable character. The purpose of this essay is not to convince you to like Heather Duke more; it is just to defend some of her actions, as stated in the title. Though many of Heather Duke’s actions were inexcusable, she is ultimately one of Heather Chandler’s victims; an example of the victim becoming the bully. Most of this essay is written with the Off-Broadway production in mind, as well as the movie.

Heather Duke has a personality

Let’s start from the very beginning. While it is true that we have about 2 hours of musical content and 1 hour and 44 minutes of movie content to go off of, as well as deleted scripts, much can be gathered regarding Heather Duke’s personality.
Veronica describes Duke as having ‘no discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants’. It is proven further on in the musical that yes, Duke does have a personality; a personality is defined by the Oxford dictionary as the combination of characteristics or qualities that form an individual's distinctive character. Duke is far from having no discernible personality; hell, you could even argue that Duke is the most in-depth character in Heathers.
The most prominent example of this is Duke’s interaction with JD before ‘Kindergarten Boyfriend’, Duke immediately knowing that “I now know thee, thou clear spirit” is from Moby Dick, and that’s not even the whole quote. Duke is shown to be an avid reader in the movie as well; reading Moby Dick even while playing croquet and in early drafts of the script, referencing The Catcher in the Rye (“Yeah, you know Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye wouldn’t put up with their bogus nonsense.”).
I read The Catcher in the Rye recently, and it’s a coming-of-age novel from an unreliable narrator perspective. The main character, Holden Caulfield, has a very warped worldview, classifying people as ‘phonies’, smoking and drinking while underage, his most notable trait being his red hunting cap; a physical manifestation of his different thinking and uniqueness from others. I interpret Duke liking this novel as her relating heavily with its themes of angst and alienation, often picturing herself as being alienated from the Heathers; with Chandler shown to treat McNamara better than her, and even treats Veronica better than her (to an extent). And as another Reddit user mentioned, curiosity is a sign of intelligence; her willingness to seek new information such as books makes her an extremely intelligent character (even managing to find a quote from a book with 135 chapters immediately).
I almost forgot to add how Duke runs the yearbook; and running a yearbook committee requires qualities such as good leadership abilities, good teamwork skills as well as a high level of creativity. High schools do not just let random people run their yearbook committees; unless Duke bribed the faculty to give her the position or intimidated the student body into electing her as yearbook committee head. In the movie, there’s a scene that Dennis, Peter and a random girl are discussing the yearbook regarding Chandler’s suicide, and the fact that Duke is allowing it to be included in the yearbook (as the head, despite not being in the scene itself) shows that not only is she a somewhat competent head, she also knows what’s best for the yearbook and what isn’t.
Duke comes up with many snarky remarks throughout the musical, some taken directly from the movie version of Chandler (“What? It’ll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks!”) which implies how she models her behaviour after her though she does come up with her fair share of snarky remarks herself (“We all didn’t kiss on the kickball field!”, “Here comes the cootie squad! We should-“, et cetera).
Duke is insecure, described in the Off-Broadway script as being ‘the whipped beta dog of the three Heathers. Deeply insecure.’ A good example to show her insecurity is in the OOBC bootleg of ‘Beautiful’ on YouTube (Alice Lee is an amazing Heather Duke), when she tells Veronica “Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds.” she grips her stomach area, heaving deeply as if she’s disgusted by herself, reflecting her insecurities on Veronica, but regains her composure quickly. Another Reddit user pointed out how Duke seems to adjust the bottom of her blazer after being placed in a situation out of her control; and control is a very important aspect of her character, which I will also be going into when talking about her eating disorder. After Duke gets SA’d by Ram in ‘Big Fun’ and suspended by Mrs. Fleming after ‘Lifeboat’, she readjusts the bottom of her blazer, and I do think this is symbolic; reminding her that after everything, the one thing she has control over is her body and her weight, which is why she specifically readjusts the area of her blazer covering her stomach.
Lastly, Duke is the only character in canon confirmed to have a disorder; bulimia nervosa. While some of you may argue that “JD has antisocial personality disordePTSD!” or “Veronica is depressed!” they are not confirmed. The diagnostic criterion for bulimia nervosa in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th Edition (DSM-V) are:

• Recurrent episodes of binge eating
• Recurrent inappropriate compensatory behaviors in order to prevent weight gain (like purging)
• The binge eating and inappropriate compensatory behaviour both occur on average at least once a week for 3 months
• Self-evaluation is unduly influenced by body shape and weight
• Disturbances do not occur during episodes of anorexia nervosa

While Duke’s bulimia is mentioned only once throughout the whole musical in ‘Beautiful’, and twice in the movie where it is shown that she started to make an attempt to normally after Chandler’s death (no, you can’t recover from bulimia instantly), it shows a lot about her character. The act of binge eating itself has a sense of lack of control, as stated in the DSM-V. It goes so far that during binges, individuals tend to eat foods they would otherwise avoid; continuing until they are uncomfortably full. The DSM-V states that experiencing multiple stressful life events can precipitate onset of bulimia, and bulimics tend to be ashamed of their eating problems, which can be triggered through multiple factors like interpersonal stressors, negative feelings related to body weight and body shape, boredom, et cetera.
Why am I telling you all this? Because Duke’s bulimia is a product of her insecurity. Heather Duke hates the way she looks; if she didn’t, her mom wouldn’t have paid for implants. Also, the minimum age to get breast implants in the USA is 18; implying that Duke’s mother and Duke got it through illegal means. Heather Duke mafia arc?! Bulimia is also seen by bulimics to be a way to maintain control over their own body. They believe that even if they can’t control anything else around them, they still have complete control over their own body; which is what leads to the development of an eating disorder. Duke wants control; shown by her jealousy of Chandler as well as her taking initiative to obtain the red scrunchie in the musical after Chandler’s death. When Duke doesn’t have control, she uses unhealthy coping mechanisms like her bulimia and phrases to reassure herself (like when JD blackmails her, she says “Nobody cares about the past. Nobody cares about Martha Dumptruck.” and it has a vengeful, angsty intonation to it; as if she’s saying it to reassure herself, perhaps?).
In conclusion, Heather Duke has a personality. She is highly intelligent, snarky, insecure, aching for control over her own life and the lives of others’. Which leads me to my next point.

Heather Chandler’s abuse

Many people speculate that Chandler is an asshole to Duke because she knows that Duke will go batshit crazy on McNamara if Duke gets the power (like she did after ‘Lifeboat’) and hence keeps Duke on a tight leash. In actuality, she does not just keep Duke on a tight leash. She abuses Duke, both physically and mentally. Chandler’s physical assault is shown in ‘Candy Store’, before her riff where Duke wails vocal ad-lib and Chandler fucking pushes her. It has come to the point where people don’t compare how good each individual Chandler’s riff is, rather, people compare how far each individual Duke gets pushed. Under no circumstances should you ever push someone to the ground, let alone your friend or someone who is part of your clique. That’s called bullying.
And if I could list every single instance that Chandler mentally/verbally abuses Duke, I’d be here all day. Which I already am. Some examples include:

• “Grow up, Heather. Bulimia is so ‘87.” Not only does Chandler not show a conscious effort to help Duke recover from her eating disorder, she mocks it, ridiculing Duke for being immature (as implied by Chandler’s words) in front of McNamara. Also, fun fact, excessive purging can lead to death. Either Chandler is extremely indifferent and couldn’t give 2 shits if Duke died or is ignorant of what bulimia is. In which case she is still an extremely shitty friend for not trying to help Duke.
• Chandler tells Duke to shut up a total of 4 times in the musical (first time in ‘Beautiful’, “How about prescriptions?” “Shut up, Heather!” second time before ‘Candy Store’, “What? It’ll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks!” “Shut up, Heather!” third time during ‘Candy Store’ before the riff, “Woah! Honey, what you waiting for-“ “Shut up, Heather!” and last time during ‘Big Fun’, “Here comes the cootie squad! We should-“ “Shut up, Heather!”). And Chandler is alive for a grand total of 42 minutes. Notice that every time Chandler tells her to shut up, Duke always replies with a meek “Sorry, Heather…” (except for during ‘Candy Store’ because Duke’s on the floor but there’s a recording of Jessica Keenan Wynn, Elle McLemore and Kristolyn Lloyd performing the song at a Barnes and Noble where after Jessica as Chandler tells Kristolyn as Duke to shut up, she replies with a hasty “Sorry, Heather!”) which shows how Chandler has basically beaten this poor girl down into submission, silencing her and giving her no right to speak or even have an opinion. Which brings me on to my next instance.
• “You’ll need something to write on. Heather, bend over.” Chandler literally makes Veronica use Duke as a table. In the movie, there is literally a table right behind them; and in a deleted script, both McNamara and Duke bend over, and Chandler makes Duke go back down. The fact that in both the movie and the musical, Duke does it with zero protesting shows that she was acclimatised to her position as Chandler’s metaphorical (and literal) punching bag.
• “I am talking to my friend.” This is in the West End production, where Chandler directly addresses Duke after she says “You were totally throwing your panties at him!” to Veronica. Even within the Heathers, there’s a hierarchy at play; Chandler’s tone of voice is extremely condescending, addressing her as if she’s a dog or an insolent, disobedient kid. Which Duke immediately ‘steps back in line’ and responds with a “Sorry, Heather…”
• During ‘Big Fun’, after Veronica saves Duke’s ass (both metaphorically and literally) from Ram, Duke approaches Chandler who throws her hands up and gives her a patronising look. Even after being sexually harassed by Ram, and even after calling out (“Quit it jackass, get off of me!”), Chandler refuses to offer Duke help; leading to her responding to Veronica’s offers of help with spite and anger from being thrown aside by Chandler (“I didn’t need your help.”).
• “Heather Duke was such a sad little poser. Veronica, tell her to stop touching my stuff.” While this is arguable because this is Chandler’s ghost and it’s implied that Chandler’s ghost is a manifestation of Veronica’s guilt, it shows that even Veronica would subconsciously know that Chandler would say this about Duke. Chandler’s treatment of Duke is so bad to the point of Veronica knowing exactly what Chandler would say about Duke in that situation.

This is way too much for a 17 year old to handle. When Chandler says “Grow up, Heather. Bulimia is so ‘87.”, it’s also implying that they knew each other since/before 1987. Which is even more fucked up considering Duke has been constantly taking abuse from Chandler for 2 years or more. The worst part is, if Duke wants to remain a Heather, she can’t do anything. And she’s not allowed to do anything. Or she’d become an ex-somebody, and we all knew the consequences of that in the actual musical. After 2 years (or more) of suffering, what do you think Duke would do? It’s human instinct to feel like shit if you were abused like this. And instead of getting swallowed up by her pain like McNamara did, what did Duke do? Lash out at others. But before I go into that, I’ll go into a small sub-section.

Heather McNamara’s ignorance

Heather McNamara is not an innocent cinnamon roll. She is equally as bad as every other Heather; just that she is redeemable. As Janis Ian/Sarkisian once said, “There are two kinds of evil people in this world. Those who do evil stuff and those who see evil stuff being done and don't try to stop it.” And it is safe to say that McNamara falls under both categories.
She doesn’t try to stop Duke or protect Veronica when Duke spreads the rumor that Veronica had a threesome with Kurt and Ram; instead, she actively encourages it! In Blue (Reprise), she sings “I hope she rinsed it!” and actively joins in the singing in the West End production’s ‘Never Shut Up Again’.
Heather McNamara is a follower. She’s a lot like someone I know; she follows what the most influential person wants, and goes with it. After Chandler died, it was Duke. And before Chandler died… you guessed it!
You may argue that McNamara told Duke “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.” but that is kind of a given…? Someone with bulimia, as stated earlier, would not be open about their eating disorder at all. That is extremely shitty advice to give someone. She could’ve agreed with Duke, could’ve stood up for her or at least tried to interact with her or help her up when she was pushed down; but she didn’t (I think in the West End production she did? I’m not sure either; it looked more as if she was pushing Duke into place which is an even more asshole move to do). Naturally, Duke would associate McNamara as one of the people who wronged her, as well as Chandler. And when McNamara poured her heart out to TV cameras during ‘Lifeboat’… well…

Justifying Heather Duke’s actions

…Heather Duke was not having it. Many people take notice of the “And every morning on the bus I feel my heart beating louder and faster and I’m like ‘Jesus, I’m on the freaking bus again because all my rides to school are dead…’” and then they look at Duke’s line in ‘Candy Store’ (“And get in my Jeep!”) which could be interpreted many different ways. And I like to think that Duke walks to school because bulimics tend to overexercise in order to lose weight (especially considering Heathers occured in a relatively short time frame), but as I said, it could be interpreted many different ways. Bulimics typically have to go through cognitive behavioural therapy (or they can just… recover from their own, but it takes time) but that’s not the point. My point is, Duke didn’t necessarily refuse to pick McNamara up. It’s just a theory. A musical theory.
After ‘Lifeboat’, where McNamara is stuck in a trance-like state, Duke rushes towards her, confronting her. And here’s where everyone forgets that the TV cameras are still recording; why would Duke yell at someone who is suicidal on TV cameras? She wants control. She craves positive attention. The last thing that Duke would do would be to make herself seem like an asshole on national television. The whole sequence seemed as if it was out of rage and pent-up anger more than anything; it was almost immediate after ‘Lifeboat’ ended. Her tone was not dissimilar to Chandler’s before ‘Dead Girl Walking’; both extremely indignant. And here’s where some people also forget that ‘Shine a Light (Reprise)’ happened in McNamara’s head and Duke didn’t actually tell her to go kill herself. I interpret ‘Shine a Light (Reprise)’ not just as McNamara imagining Duke telling her to kill herself, but subconsciously encouraging herself to kill herself. Why would Duke use Mrs. Fleming’s song? In essence; Duke lashed out at McNamara in rage. It seemed more of an outburst rather than a premeditated action.
Sure, I can’t justify Duke spreading the rumor about Veronica having a threesome. I admit that Duke is an asshole for doing that. Which is why I like her. What I can somewhat justify is Duke usurping Chandler’s position as head bitch.
Duke had always been in Chandler’s shadow; and in this case, always been beaten up by Chandler. Naturally, what she’d want to do is issue a final “fuck you” to Chandler by firstly, usurping her position, her red scrunchie, raiding her locker, and blowing her boyfriend (I believe that’s in a deleted part of the movie script where she blows David. But people with EDs typically don’t participate in sexual activities because of their body image issues). Duke wanted to take what Chandler didn’t give her, and she wanted to make others feel how Chandler made her feel. Her actions were out of vengeance and rage.
After ‘Kindergarten Boyfriend’, Duke attempts to get Veronica and McNamara to sign the petition, and when Veronica tells her that “We were avoiding you.”, Duke lets out a gasp of bewildered betrayal. This implies that Duke didn’t understand the consequences of her actions (which again, I can imply that Chandler did it to her so many times that she thinks it’s okay) which is so fucking sad. Which also further leads me to believe that Duke lashed out at McNamara out of rage.

Conclusion

The saddest thing about Heather Duke is that in the Off-Broadway production, she does not achieve a happy ending. She is the only living character in the musical to not have a happy ending (JD reunited with his mom in heaven, Veronica, Martha and McNamara reconcile, the school as a whole reconciled) and instead goes back to being a nobody. She joins a random group and sings with them, showing how it’s so tragic that she didn’t even get to keep what she wanted for so long. Though, in the West End production, she reunites with McNamara and Veronica. But I don’t really like that ending because after what Duke did, I wouldn’t see McNamara and Veronica forgiving her, especially since Duke said that Martha was “Just another geek trying to imitate the popular kids and failing miserably.”
Heather Duke’s actions can’t be fully excused, but she isn’t inherently bad; I believe that her actions were mostly out of vengeance. And that is so relatable. What the fuck.
I like to think that after the events of Heathers, Heather Duke and Heather McNamara went to therapy together, explaining their actions and pushing past their past grievances and turning their trauma bond into a true friendship. But again, it never happened. Unless I write a fanfic about it.
If you’re reading this, thank you for coming to my TedTalk. And I’m so happy you managed to read through my Heather Duke essay. She just like me fr

Right about the time I went through puberty I discovered Mr. Pibb and Dr Pepper. They were my first loves. I’m sure the caffeine had something to do with my love, but to be quite honest my addiction is mainly to the taste of Dr. Pepper. My sleep became disrupted around this time but I never even considered the caffeine could be the cause. Of course, I was young, and you’d think my parents would’ve had a concern about it, but both of them can drink caffeine and go to sleep. My mom quit coffee and didn’t even get a headache. I don’t know how I got these genes, but nevertheless...
It was in my early 20s when I spiraled into depression that I noticed when I was feeling enormous stress, I would have the overwhelming urge to go buy a Dr Pepper. That was when I started to wonder if the caffeine was actually bad for me. I used to get headaches all the time and I never attributed it to days when I didn’t have caffeine until many years later. It’s embarrassing to say now. I was so out of touch with my own body.
In my 20s I quit caffeine a couple times. The first time was easy, probably because I was taking Adderall at that time. The second time I quit caffeine was around the time I quit taking benzos so I really don’t know for sure if it affected me because the benzos put me through hell.
Fast forward to now, in my mid 30s, I had my last drink of caffeinated Dr Pepper on Halloween last year. When I quit caffeine last year it was like I gained weight overnight and simultaneously lost my appetite for many months. I was riddled with exhaustion, fatigue, antisocial, major anhedonia. Irritable, numb, zero patience for human beings.
It’s been almost 5 months and I’m pretty convinced that I am experiencing PAWS caused by caffeine withdrawal. When I came off benzos in the past I went through a hell of an ordeal. I took benzos as prescribed, never abused them, but my withdrawal was terrible and I had PAWS for years (believe it or not, others disbelief doesn’t change the truth). I did fully recover.
When I quit caffeine last year, it was like someone had thrown me back into the benzo withdrawal state, just a more mild version. It’s actually been really eye-opening and very sad as I never thought I would go back to this sort of state where I’m not quite sick but definitely not healthy either.
Something bizarre about me that medical science could probably never explain is that if I stay off caffeine for 2 years and then have caffeine for only 2 or 3 days, I will go through withdrawal from it. I will get headaches, brain fog, exhaustion, etc. I’ve had so many people tell me it’s all “in my head.” That there’s no way caffeine could do this. Of course people are right to be skeptical, but I know my body best at this point.
It took me awhile to realize it. I fought the exhaustion and the antisocianess for several months. I didn’t initially attribute it entirely to caffeine. It seemed too crazy. I kept going to the gym, hiking every week with a friend, but I finally realized that it was causing me such extreme stress that I was better off hermiting until I feel better. I know there’s gonna be people here who disagree with that, but I know myself best. I know that I’m so sensitive to stress these days that the best thing I can do for myself is rest as long as my body demands that I do so.
I know there’s people reading this thinking that I have some sort of mental illness, but I really don’t care. Th people who come on this forum and try to tell people that they’re actually mentally or physically ill in some other way, and caffeine can’t do this to them, are just people who lack critical thinking skills. Everybody is different. Some peoples bodies treat caffeine like a hard drug, and unfortunately I’m one of those people.
I am 5 months off caffeine and never going back, no matter how long healing takes.
Please don’t let my story scare you. I am in a very extreme minority having this abnormally sensitive body. Most people will be healed far before 5 months.
I just felt like saying hello and sharing my experience. Sorry for the essay. Thanks for reading!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- Special
These item only swap for listed weapon
- List
V FSS 1S Sheepsquatch Staff swap for V FSS 25LVC Sheepsquatch Club/Staff
V FSS 40LDWPA Chainsaw swap for V FSS 25LVC Chainsaw/Ripper
V 50C 25LVC Pepper Shaker swap for V 25FF50H 25LVC Pepper Shaker
I'm looking for V FSS 25LVC Mole Miner Gauntlet/Power Fist. Thanks.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- Energy Heavy Weapon
AA 25Aim RW GP
B 50C 15VCF Cryo
B 50C FR Cryo
B 50C 25LVC UGL
B 25FFR 250DR GP
Ber 25FFR RW GP
F 25FFR 25LVC GP
F 25FFR 25LVC UGL
J 25FFR 25LVC GP
J 50C FR Pepper Shaker
- Ranged Weapon
Rolled 419 Dragon
AA 50C 25LVC Tesla
AA 50C 15VCF Railway
AA 25Aim FR Gatling Gun
AA 50C 25LVC Hunting Rifle
AAE SF Gatling Gun
AAE SF Handmade
AA 25FFR 25LVC Handmade
AA 50C 250DR Handmade
AA 25FFR 250DR The Fixer
AA 50C SF The Fixer
B 50C 25LVC Tommy
B 50C 25LVC 10mm SMG
B 50C 25LVC Radium
B 50C 25LVC 50cal
B 50C 25LVC LMG
B 25FFR 15VCF Handmade
B 25FFR 15VCF The FIxer
BE 25LVC Hunting RIfle
BE 15VCF LMG
BE 15VCF Pipe Revolver
B 50C 15VCF Gatling Gun
B 50C 15VCF Handmade
B 50C 15VCF The Fixer
B 50C 15VCF AR
B 50H 50BS AB
B 50H 15VCF The Fixer
B 50H 15VCF Handmade
B 25FFR FR Minigun
BE FR Minigun
IE FR Lever Action
I 50C 15VCF Crossbow
J 25FFR FR 50Cal
J 25FFR 25LVC Minigun
JE 15VCF Hunting Rifle
J 50C 25LVC Crossbow
J 25FFR 90RW LMG
J 25FFR 15VCF Laser Rifle
J 25FFR 15VCF ULaser Rifle
J 50C 15VCF Laser Rifle
JE 15VCF Pipe Revolver
J 50C 15VCF Pipe Revolver
JE 15VCF Combat Shotgun
JE 15VCF DB Shotgun
J 50H FR Handmade
J 50C 15VCF Lever
JE FR Pump
J 25FFR 15VCF Gamma
JE 90RW Minigun
J 50C 25LVC Railway
J 50H 25LVC Railway
J 50C 25LVC The Fixer
J 25FFR 25LVC Tesla
J 50C 25LVC Tesla
Q 50C 25LVC 50Cal
Q 25Aim 25LVC 50Cal
Q 25FFR FR Auto Pipe Pistol .38
Q 50C FR Radium
Q 50H FR The Fixer
QE 50DR The Fixer
Q 50C 250DR Handmade
Q 25FFR FR AR
Stalker 50C 25LVC The Fixer
TSE 25LVC Pipe Revolver
TSE FR DB Shotgun
TS 25FFR FR Gatling Gun
TS 50limb 25LVC AGL
TS 25Aim 50DR AGL
TS 50H 50BS Fatman
TS 50H RW Missile Launcher
TS 25FFR 25LVC Missile Launcher
TS 25FFR 25LVC The Fixer
V 50C 25LVC 10mm SMG
V 50C 25LVC Railway
V 50C 25LVC Crossbow
VE 25LVC Railway
V 25FFR 250DR The Fixer
- Enclave Plasma Rifle
Med 25FFR 25LVC EPR (Standard Capacitor , Stabilized Splitter , Stabilized Stock , Reflex Sight)
V 50C FR EPR (Refined Beta Wave Tuner , True Flamer Barrel , Stabilized Stock , Reflex Sight)
TS 25FFR 25LVC EPR (Standard Capacitor , Aligned Automatic Barrel , Stabilized Stock , Reflex Sight)
- Melee Weapon
AA FSS 40LDWPA Tenderizer
AA 40PA 40LDWPA Tenderizer
J FSS 40LDWPA DCG
V FSS 1S Board
V FSS 15Block Power Fist
V FSS 15Block DCG
V FSS 50BS Power Fist
V 40PA 1S Power Fist
V 40PA 1S Sheepsquatch Club
- Armor
Ass AP Sent Trapper RA
Ass AP Cav Leather LL DR: 17 36 Sturdy
Ass AP Cav USA RL
Auto Stim AP Sent Combat LA DR: 20 20 Heavy
Auto Stim AP Sent Raider RA DR: 22 10 Sturdy
Bol AP Cav Trapper RL
Bol AP Sent Combat RA DR: 12 12 Light
Bol AP Sent Marine RA
Bol AP Sent Robot LA DR: 13 13 Sturdy
Bol AP Sent Trapper RL x2
OE AP FDC Robot CP DR: 24 24 Light
Uny 1I Sent Trapper LL
Uny 1S Sent Wood RA
Uny 1S Sent Raider LL DR: 22 10 Sturdy
Uny 1S Sneak Leather CP DR: 21 59 Sturdy
Uny 1S Sent Combat LL DR: 15 15 Sturdy
Uny AP FDC Metal CP DR: 51 11 Light
Uny 1P FDC Marine CP
Uny 25RR FDC Raider LL DR: 28 13 Heavy
Uny 25RR Sent USA RA
Uny 25EDR Sent USA RL
Van AP FDC USA CP
Van AP Cav Combat RA DR: 12 12 Light
Van AP Cav Leather CP DR: 16 45 Light
Van AP Sneak Raider CP DR: 42 15 Light
- PA
Ass AP Sent Ultracite Torso
OE 1P WWR T51b RA
OE 7LED Sent Raider Torso
- Plan
Pepper Shaker x2
- Mask
Buffoon x2 , Raven x1 , Deathclaw x2 , Hag x1 , Winterman x1 , Loon x1
- Apparel
WP JS , BOS JS

I have noticed that I don’t feel much restriction in the week leading up to my period. I can easily eat my 4 oz and still be hungry for more. Last night I ate 4.5oz of fish and felt satisfied but not overfull. This only seems to happen when my period is coming, but all other times, I feel almost too full after 4oz of food. I am almost 6 weeks post-op. Can anyone shed light on why this is happening or how this is possible? Thanks in advance!
ETA: My boyfriend of 4 years broke up with me last week and I had been finding it very difficult to eat up until a day or two ago. Perhaps my body really needs the protein for that time of the month?

Currently as I’m writing this, I’ve had very severe symptoms which interfere with my day-to-day life. My symptoms have been on-going now for several months and have not improved at all. Oddly enough, I had symptoms appear at the end of October and then go away after a couple of weeks that match what I’m currently experiencing. Prior to experiencing my symptoms in October, I’ve had a number of other symptoms appear that I think are related, but I can’t verify if they are or not.
Cognitive Issues
Currently the symptom I’m experiencing everyday is a cognitive disorder. It’s hard to explain exactly, but it feels as if I haven’t slept for a week or that I'm buzzed. The symptoms are typically worse in the morning and night. If I’m working in the middle of the day I don’t experience this issue (as much). The symptom also gets worse if I do any sort of physical activity like walking my dog, hiking, or mountain biking. That being said, I do sometimes notice I feel better after doing physical activity. Sometimes the cognitive issue is also paired with odd head sensations like head pressure that I notice around my ears and the back of my head. Sometimes I’ll also have a tingling feeling that happens on the sides of my head near my ears. In addition to the tingling sometimes I’ll have an odd aching sensation on the top of my head near the vertex (the coronal suture) and back of my head near where the occipital bone and parietal bone meet. The aching sensation almost feels like my skull is about to split open. I’ve also experience increased head pressure and a pulsing sensation on my head sometimes when my cognitive issues are at their worst. Less commonly, I’ll also have issues with vertigo and balance. Specifically, if I’m walking I’ll feel like my balance is off and I’ll lean to one side- usually my left side. I’ve had on-going issues with tinnitus as well. It’s not persistent, but it seems to happen most often at night. I experience it almost everyday. Sometimes I'll lose my hearing temporarily as well and it'll come back after about a minute. Lastly, my left ear will sometimes feel clogged and nothing I do seems to relieve the pressure. My cognitive issues also seem to be much worse after taking a hot shower. Specifically I’ll have increased head pressure and have an increased jet lag/hangover feeling.
Chest Pain
The second most common issue that I’ve experienced is chest pain. The chest pain I have manifests in different ways, but usually it’s an aching sensation that I notice on my clavicle head and extends to the sternocostal head slightly and it occurs on both sides of my chest. Sometimes the pain is also a burning sensation. I’ve also had pain that occurs in my sternum that’s a sharp pain. Most often these pains occur at night or in the evening.
Heart
My heart related issues seem to happen less often, but have started becoming more frequent as of late. The most common issues that I experience is heart palpations. Commonly it manifests with either a racing heart, the feeling I skipped a beat, or a fluttering feeling. I experience these symptoms most often at night and especially while I’m sleeping. I’ve had a few incidents where I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with my heart racing. I wear an Apple Watch SE most of the time now since my symptoms started and I’ve noticed my pulse is as high as 96 when I wake up in the middle of the night with my heart racing. I don’t have nightmares- I can’t honestly the last time I remember having a nightmare in fact. My pulse has recently been pretty high when I'm sleeping as well. Usually it's between 40 - 50, but recently it's been between 50 - 70.
Another issue I used to have, but has sense improved greatly since I cut down dramatically on caffeine and stopped eating late at night is heart burn.
Rashes
Another odd symptom that I’ve started having is red rashes that manifest on my chest, stomach, arms, or legs. The rashes are usually a solid red color or are spotty and sometimes cover a large area or a very small specific area. I’ve had a very large chest rash that covered the entirety of my chest and other times I’ve had small rashes on my legs that look like a small line.
Eyes
Another very common issue for me is bloodshot eyes. I will usually wake up in the morning with my eyes completely bloodshot. The only thing that seems to relieve it is eye drops which I use at most once a day. I will strangely also sometime have very red and visible veins that extend from my pupil to the tear duck. Near my pupil I’ll have a spot that can be either very red or slightly pink. I usually know I’ve having this issue because my eye will burn and begin to water. Sometimes I wake up with this issue and other times it will come and go throughout the day. I usually notice it during the middle of the day while I’m working on my computer.
Veins
I really don’t know if this is a cause for concern or not or if it’s even related, but I’ve noticed my veins on my arms and hands are more visible than they've ever been. They’re a very deep blue color and they’re most pronounced in the morning, after I take a shower, or do any sort of physical activity.
Muscle Mass/Weight Loss
I’ve noticed that since of February last year to today, I’ve lost quite a bit of weight. Last February I weighed approximately 138 and now I weigh about 130. I haven’t had any significant changes in my diet other than not eating late at night. I attribute most of my weight loss to muscle loss which I notice physically because I’m not able to lift as much weight as I use to be able to. I use to take creatine monohydrate regularly which I know will increase muscle mass and weight so I’m sure this is part of the reason I’m losing weight, however, even after not taking creatine for several months I’ve still struggled to keep on weight and muscle mass. Since my symptoms began I’ve been diligently tracking my diet and on average I eat approximately 2,400 - 3,000 calories per day.
Muscle Twitching
This is a symptom I’ve had for at least a year now. Typically I’ll notice it in my arm near the extensor carpi radials longus. What will happen is an uncontrollable twitching sensation that will be visible if I happen to look at it. This happens on both arms around the same area. I’ll also have muscle twitching as well in my ankles sometimes, but it’s not very frequent. I've had it in my face as well on my eyes and lips. Occasionally I’ll also have restless legs when I’m sleeping, but this does not happen often.
Uncontrollable Teeth Chattering
One strange event that I had before was while I was sitting on the couch. I was feeling otherwise normal, but my teeth began to chatter uncontrollably for no apparent reason. I didn't feel cold either.
Hands
An issue that I’ve had for many years now is cold hands. Sometimes they’re purplish in color, very pale or very red. My hands will become cold for no apparent reason. They’re not cold 24/7 but at least several hours of the day. A specific problem that I have with my left-hand is that it will often be weak, specifically it’s difficult to pick things up with my left hand. Also when I type on my computer I’ll frequently have pain in my wrist associated with it. My pinky and ring finger also sometimes go numb especially if I bend my arm for a long period of time.
Arms
As I mentioned above, I frequently will have muscle twitching in my arms. Another thing I’ve noticed is that while I’ve had my symptoms, I’ve had a few nights where I’ll wake up and my arm is totally numb. Lately for the last few weeks my left arm has felt heavy and perhaps slightly numb. It seems to happen on the outward facing side of my arm specifically.
Face
An on-going issue that I’ve had for years is facial flushing. It seems to have gotten worse since my symptoms began. It feels like I have a fever, despite taking my temperature and not having one. I’ll typically notice the flushing mostly on my nose and it will extend to my cheeks. Sometimes when I get facial flushing I’ll have congestion as well. I noticed I’ll frequently have dark circles under my eyes as well. I’ve had this issue for quite a while now, but it’s become even more pronounced lately.
Feet
My feet are also frequently cold. I’ve noticed my toes often are purple. My big toe on my right foot also has dry skin. This has been an on-going issue for years. Recently my left heel went completely numb. I’ve since gotten feeling back but it lasted for a few days.
Ankles
I’ll frequently have heaviness in my ankles like they’re swelling, but they don’t appear to be visibly swollen at all. It’s been an on and off experience that can sometimes last for days at a time. One night my left ankle felt extremely swollen and painful. The veins in my legs were pulsating as well.
Thighs
I haven’t had much thigh pain, but occasionally I’ll get the same muscle twitching in my thigh or aching pain in my quadricep or my abductors.
Privates
This is one of the strangest symptoms I’ve had. Sometimes I’ll have issues where I’ll have pressure near my prostate (I think). It makes me feel like I need to urinate even though I don’t have to. Also have I finish urinating sometimes I’ll have a pain in my privates like I just passed a kidney stone which I definitely don't have.
Stomach
When I started having my symptoms I would typically have pain in areas like left flank above my left hip. It was either an aching pain or a sharp pain. I haven’t had that pain recently. Another pain that I’ve had frequently (maybe a few days per week) is located on my top left abdominal muscle.
Back
I’ve had a dull aching pain in my upper back for quite some time that I attributed to my sedentary lifestyle, but lately it’s gotten a lot worse to the point where it’s very painful. It’s still an aching pain but it’s much more severe. It's since gotten better.
Ribs
I don’t usually have rib pain, but when I do it’s an aching pain that’s tender to the touch and lasts a few days.
Breathing
I haven’t had any issues feeling out of breath at all even when I had Covid.
Nausea
Since December I’ve had nausea maybe 5 or 6 times total and I didn’t start having symptoms of it until January. It seems like it’s gotten more frequently lately. I haven’t vomited, but I have the feeling like I might.
Bad habits
I had a bad habit of drinking a lot of caffeine per day. For at least a couple of years I think it was higher than 600mgs per day. I cut down to 600mgs per day prior to having my symptoms, but I’ve slowly gotten down to having 100mgs of caffeine a day or none at all. I also used to eat at night shortly before going to bed which gave me heart burn and caused me to have sleep issues. I also used to drink lots of diet drinks like diet sodas. I’ve since almost entirely cut out aspartame from my diet except I might have a diet soda a couple times per month. I think I also had a lot of sodium in my diet from the vegetarian meat substitutes and canned foods I was eating. I also drank a lot of water per day. Probably at least a gallon.
Past events
In addition to the other strange past events I’ve had like uncontrollable teeth chattering. I’ve had a few other strange symptoms that have come and go. One such event I had was in July or September while I was mountain biking. I was biking up a hill but I didn’t feel like I was pushing my self exceptionally hard. When I got up to the top of the hill I got very lightheaded and had the same jet lag/hangover feeling I’m experiencing currently. The same happened in November shortly after I got over my symptoms in October. I had the same lightheaded feeling and cold sweats I experienced before while mountain biking. Also a few months back I had the same experience but while walking on the treadmill. I began having sudden cold sweats without explanation, but I didn’t feel light headed at all. Another time I was taking my dog
Sleep
I’ve mentioned that I’ll frequently wake up with my heart racing, but I also sometimes wake up suddenly without any explanation. Sometimes I’ll wake up because my back is in pain and I have to transition to my side or vice-versa. I’ve tried both firmer and softer mattresses and neither seem to make a difference.
Supplements
Melatonin at night to help with sleep
Cannabis sleep capsules
Gingko biloba to help with cognitive issues
Creatine (cut out since symptoms began)
Pre-workouts like amino energy or L-Arginine (stopped taking these when my symptoms began)
Energy drinks like Reign, Alani Nu, and Ghost that have 300mgs of caffeine and high B vitamins and taurine
Covid
I had Covid in mid-November that I tested negative for on Black Friday. It wasn’t severe- mostly cold like symptoms with a very bad headache and head pressure. I thin Covid probably contributed to my current condition, but I’m not sure if it’s the cause of my issues considering my major symptoms began before I got Covid in October.
​
Tests Done:
UTI - negative
PSA - waiting on test
Urinalysis - normal
CBC - normal
JAK2 - negative
EPO - normal
CRP - near 0
Sedimentation rate- near 0 / 2 march
Creatinine - low 7.3
High co2 in metabolic tests
NT pro BNP - 26
Troponin - 5
Lipase - normal
Ferritin - normal
Iron - normal
Folate - normal
Cortisol - normal
T4 - normal
Free T4 - normal
T3 Uptake - normal
Free T3 - normal
Creatine Kinase - normal
TSH- high in October but tested twice and was normal high again in March
Immuglobulin - normal
A1C - normal
Lyme - negative
Kidney stones - negative
CT scan on head - normal
Whole body MRI - normal except for a minor bulging disc in my lower spine
HIV - negative
ANA - negative
Sleep apnea- negative
Comprehensive Metabolic Panel - normal except slightly low creatinine, slightly high co2, and high albumin on very test
Liver panel - normal except high albumin and low globulin sometimes. High a/g ratio- 3.5
EKG- low resting pulse rate (53 - 56) and borderline abnormal T-wave. Last test I did I had a left axis deviation (-32 degrees).
Micronutrient test - borderline low vitamin D, B12 ok, high selenium, high zinc, high magnesium
​
Veins
Eye
Rash
Facial Flush

Welcome new readers. Please start with chapter one https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/11ai7iv/last_of_the_defenders_ch_01/
Previously https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/11xv7ss/last_of_the_defenders_ch_28/
Allah settled into a corner of the room, resting against a wall at a crouch. Li pulled out a sheet of shiny black cloth from her pocket, flapping it to unfurl the short, shawl length thing. She set it on the desk and the cloth lit up--a duplicate of the interface she had used in Star dancer’s CNC--to form a keyboard. The human danced her fingers over the glowing surface, lists and glyphs changing, growing, being replaced by new symbols.
Several times the lights flickered ominously. Once they went out completely for a span of seven times seven times three and six heartbeats, the room suffused by the glow of the sticks, the monitor and Li’s keyboard cloth.
Allah lowered her head in thought. Why would the other defenders abandon them? Abandon Li? She had said, before, that “the tempo of the war had changed” when the bullies attacked…dirt? The bullies seemed to attack anything. What was so special about this particular dirt?
It had to have been important. Irreplaceable even. Allah suspected the war must not be going as well as Li’s performance last night had appeared.
She wanted to ask but more importantly she did not want to interrupt. Li remained focused on the screen and her keyboard until Allah had lost all track of time. It was only after the human stood, stretched and yawned that Li took notice of the U’knock.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Waiting,” Allah said simply. And what else could she do? She had barely managed to make broth, and that with help. Allah had considered returning to the mess hall to clean the dishes and dispose of the trash left from their meal but…she did not trust the hole in the wall to provide enough water to clean them, nor did she know where to find a well, wash rags, or the refuse heap. Was the outpost like Star dancer? She did not remember seeing a bucket in the walls to whoosh away such work.
“That won’t do,” Li chastised, turning to stride out the door. The lights flickered again and Li returned to the desk, grabbing her glowing stick.
“Demeter?” Li called as Allah rose from her crouch and picked up her own stick to follow, “Do you have any V-REHs in storage?”
“T-t-t-t-t-this facility hhhhhhhhas a fully stoc-c-c-cked classroom,” the machine replied. Whatever Li had been focused on, heeling Demeter speak was not an apparent priority.
“Show me,” Li ordered.
"P-p-please follow the indicated-d-d-d-d-d-” Demeter hiccuped, clicked and was silent. A blue light flickered on and off on the floor. Li followed.
They reached the great hall again, and Allah was almost surprised to hear the sound of robots still busy tearing apart other machines. More, in place of the planters there now sat the squat carts from the holoimage at the quorum. Tanks, Li had called them. They were bare, skeletal husks now, but the treads and wheels were in place. Three humanoid robots were pushing a large many tubed box into the machine's center.
“How many of these will we need to make?” Allah asked as she passed another husk of metal.
“We’ll keep producing until the siege ends,” Li answered, “but I’d like to have at least one thousand per continent. And at least a hundred mass drivers for orbital bombardment deterrence.”
“Those are the larger ones,” Allah guessed, “the wide ones that will crush Umati’clam’s buildings?
Li nodded. “The same,” she pointed up. In the dim scattered light Allah could see the open center of the spire was no longer so open. Highlighted by the glow of sparks were the skeletons of metal birds. She could not be certain but these forms looked larger than the arrows that had assaulted the bully vessel. “But those bad boys,” Li continued, “will be able to take the fight to em.
“Nachtkrapp class assault fighters,” Li explained. The flickering blue light led them out of the garage and down another door filled corridor. “With quad mounted rail guns and hardpoints that can load up to four Hawking/Golubev B-903 ship killer missiles.
“Buster missiles,” Allah said uncertainly. Li nodded. “These birds--these Nachtkrapps--are much larger than the arrows from before. Why did Demeter not use such weapons last night?”
Li stopped in the dark hallway, turning to reappraise her friend. “You catch on quick,” the human complimented Allah. She turned, resuming their journey. “Two reasons. First, Nachtkrapp designs are only about thirty years old so Demeter didn’t know how to make them before we uploaded thermopylae. They’re not bleeding edge tech but they’re proven and tough. The assault drones you saw last night are in-atmosphere interceptors. Not much bigger than busters themselves.”
“You said there were two reasons,” Allah pressed as she was led into another room filled with tables. These were much smaller than the mess hall benches, a single chair and monitor for each. They were arranged in a circle around the room, facing inward. Li strode to a closet in the corner.
“Gravity weapons have a…life cycle. They need to either be used within a couple years or recycled. Buster missiles are expensive to maintain. So there was no foreseeable reason for Demeter to waste resources on making and maintaining a fleet of drones that could carry them.”
“Until now,” Allah concluded. “But I still do not understand. Why did the bullies come here? We have nothing of value to offer.”
Li stopped digging through the closet, returning to the ring of tables. She set three helmets on one of the tiny tables, then glanced around the room. She walked to another closet, retrieving a pitcher and a plate. Allah watched as Li set the plate in the center of the room, took the pitcher to a waist high box and pressed a button. Water spouted from the top of the box and Li used it to fill the pitcher.
She returned to the center of the room, tapping a button on the edge of the plate with her foot. Allah could feel the air begin to hum.
“Here,” Li handed the pitcher of water next to Allah. “Pour this over the Vibro plate. Don’t worry; it won’t spill as long as the plate is on."
Allah did as instructed, and the water began to shimmer. It hovered three paw’s spans above the surface of the strange plate. Allah bent, sniffing at the floating pool.
“Now,” while Allah had been pouring the water, Li had made a tiny toy out of paper. It was pointed like her ship, but not. It looked like some strange raft, “place this under the water with the flat side pointed up.”
As Allah moved her paw under the water, she felt a force shaking her. She drew her paw away.
“It won’t hurt you,” Li promised. "We used to do this in primary school. It’s a science experiment. For children.”
Cautiously, Allah crouched and slid her paw under the floating water.
“Make sure the boat touches the water before you take your hand away.”
Allah did so and the boat floated upside down on the water.
"This is using vibrational force to counteract gravity. It is not true anti-gravity but it lets you see what I’m trying to describe next."
“It floats upside down though,” Allah pointed to the toy boat as it bobbed on the underside of the pool, upside down. “It defies the gravity."
“Not entirely,” Li answered, “this is more a case of bending the rules."
“What,” Allah asked, “is gravity?”
“It's a fundamental force of physics,” Li explained, holding up a hand at Allah’s question. “We’ll get to physics another time. Every object, including you and me, has gravity. It allows objects to pull one another closer together. It’s what holds you to the ground and,” she dug into a pocket, pulling a round coin shaped object free. She dropped the coin onto the ground, “what causes objects to fall to the ground when released."
“It is not magic then,” Allah gestured to the boat.
“Depending on your level of technological achievement,” Li shrugged, “that's debatable. The point is that normal gravity pulls objects together. The larger the object, the greater that pull. Generally speaking, I’m not getting into mass today.
“But,” she continued, “let us suppose you had a way to harness gravity, “ she bent and manipulated a dial on the plate. “If you could force the gravity of a giant object into a single point,” the pool of water began to shift and change, the upside down boat rocking violently in the sudden storm. Slowly, as Li pressed other buttons and turned dials, the tone of the plate changed, and the pool of water with it. It began to swirl, becoming a tiny typhoon. “Something that is creating a strong gravity well--like this planet--you could “dip” from that well using a special bucket,” the boat was now spinning rapidly faster up the inside of the typhoon, “and take some of that gravity to use for your own means.
“This is how we first learned to control gravity,” Li finished as the boat flew up from the top of the typhoon. “Large objects create it, and we exploit it. It's how we created the slingshot drive. We could use gravity because its pull is infinite, and reaches beyond all the known universe.
“But if it reaches so far,” Allah asked, “why do not all objects pull themselves together?”
“They may,” Li answered, “eventually,” she waved a hand in defeat. “The tech heads would be able to explain this much better than I can. But,” she handed Allah the paper boat, “the important thing is to understand that gravity pulls everything together by its nature, and the closer you are to a large object, the more powerful its effect becomes.
“Now,” she set the pitcher under the typhoon and tapped another button with her foot. The water--most of it--sloshed inside. “This is where things get a little weird. When we first created sling drives we used gravitational pull and massive amounts of power to pull us to neighboring stars, and from there to other stars, and others. But as my species learned more about gravity, we realized we could…” She trailed off. “I am not a gravity mechanic, and we start getting into infinite universe theory, supersymmetry, string theory and you’re barely ready for quantum mechanics,” the human shrugged, “but it was explained to me when I was…younger that it is like reversing the polarity of a magnet. To create an anti-gravitational well inside of an existing gravity well.”
“What is a magnet?” Allah asked.
“Another force of attraction, like gravity, only stronger than gravity, but with much shorter range. But magnets can both pull and repel. So can gravity…Once you learn how.
“And that is part of why the,” Li grinned again. Allah was getting used to the expression, “Bullies attacked here. Your planet has an easily exploitable gravity well and all the resources they could ever want. Well, most. And the swarmers are what my people call a ‘competitive species’. They don’t seek cooperation and destroy any sapient species they find to avoid the chance of competition later.
“That's the main reason why they attacked your planet. Its what’s called the Smorgasbord Doctrine. Once a species learns to control gravity, it becomes more energy and time efficient to use that control to harvest larger astral bodies than to chase down multiple smaller ones. They could have parked over or in one of your gas giants like Star dancer is now and gotten most of the same minerals, water and materials but…there is a third reason. They came here for something ‘special’.”
“What?” Allah asked. What could her planet still have to offer that the bullies could possibly prize?
Li looked at Allah appraisingly, “Complex proteins and carbohydrates remain energy intensive to synthesize or store for long periods of time.”
Allah’s face remained blank as the tiny star behind her ear translated the strange words into U’knock. “Meat and plant matter,” it said.
Li put it more plainly still.
“They came here to harvest you…”

David, Alice, and Frank watched the white, featureless and glowing - oval ship silently approach and then hover a few feet above the desert. As a door appeared in the side and dropped down to create a ramp – Frank said: “The algorithm worked! We just made contact with aliens!” A moment later he muttered to himself: “I wish we had thought about what to do if we did contact aliens.”
The aliens exited the ship with circular disks floating over their heads. After making some indecipherable gestures, they set up an odd looking device that then hung in the air. They then said something that sounded like breaking glass. When they finished the device said: “Trickery can't smell video games.”
David replied: “Uh . . . Hello?” The device then made more sounds like breaking glass and the aliens turned and – looked at each other? Did they even have eyes? Then another one spoke and the device said: “ A baked potato stands on somebody else’s Legs!”
In an attempt to defuse the situation Alice stepped forwards to shake the closer alien’s arm? Tentacle? Not a body part at all? Just as she took hold of it - something made a squishy crunching noise from under her foot. The alien let out a loud “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” noise and Alice jumped – producing another squishy/crunchy noise from the appendage she was holding. The device then said: “” Alice backpedaled while two other aliens started waving devices that were shaped like the letter ‘N’ in what was presumably a threatening manner. One of them announced: “ A sickeningly prodigious profile is often pregnant!” while two others helped their injured comrade back to the ship.
After they were aboard, the door closed the alien ship shot upwards – creating a sonic boom that knocked them to the ground and blew out the windows in the truck and the RV.
The dazed trio lay on the ground for more than a few moments and Frank was the first to speak: “What . . . just . . . happened?”
*******
She was reading her grandchildren a bedtime story when the phone rang. She apologized to the kids and promised them two stories tomorrow, then went to her office to answer it.
She answered the phone: “General Abrams.” “Ma’am – Major Johnson, duty officer. We have an incursion. Mojave Desert, California, 15 miles north of . . . a town named Ludlow. I have placed the QRF on alert.”
“Get the QRF in the air – we can always recall them if it turns out they aren’t needed. Contact the nearby airbases and find out if any of them can get aircraft overhead to feed us video of what’s on the ground. Recall the staff – I’m on my way in.”
………
Alice sat up and then decided that she was going to wait a few more minutes before trying to stand up. Looking around she couldn’t see David or Frank in the dark and called out: “Are you guys OK?” Frank replied: “I don’t think I’m badly hurt, but when I tried to stand up, I just fell down again.” David answered with: “My head’s still spinning a bit but not as bad as a minute ago.” Then he asked: “What happened to the lights?”
In a blinding flash of hindsight Alice realized that the reason it was dark was because the lights were out. “Must still be a little loopy after whatever that was hit us.” she thought.
By unspoken consensus they decided to just lie there until they felt they felt good enough to stand up.
………..
General Abrams walked up to the doors to the Operations Building. As she approached the steps, a calm and quiet voice announced: “Halt.” She stopped – being careful to ensure that her hands remained visible. “Who is there?”
“General Abrams”
“Advance and be recognized.”
She took three more steps and:
“Halt” then: “Fencepost” General Abrams congratulated herself for looking up the password before she got out of her car and replied: “Handbook”
“I recognize you General – you may pass.”
The General thought: “The duty officer posted extra security – that’s not a good sign.” She then entered the building without ever getting a glimpse of the sentry. Something she approved of.
……….
Alice finally felt good enough to stand up and pulled out her phone for more light, looked down at it and . . . nothing. She then looked around and discovered that she could see – not well. but see well enough. David said: “it’s dark and I can still see – did the aliens do something to us?” Alice knew the biology here – but this was the first time she had ever actually used it. She said: “It’s natural, in the dark our eyes produce ‘Rhodopsin’ a chemical commonly referred to as ‘visual purple’ that triggers phototransduction in the rod cells and . . .” Frank interrupted her: “OK - in the dark our eyes make a chemical that lets us see better in the dark.” Alice argued: “Well it’s not that simple.” Rolling his eyes Frank sand: “It’s close enough. Lets start figuring out what works and what doesn’t.” David gave a sigh of relief at avoiding a 15 minute lecture on the biological and chemical processes behind our ability to see in the dark.
*********
General Abrams walked into the operations center and looked at her Chief of Staff: “What’s the bad news?” At the same time wondering how he always not only managed to get here before she did – but had enough time to get a good picture of the situation also.
Captain Halsey (US Navy) called forward Captain Ryker from US Space Force. “Ma’am – when we looked at the records over the past several weeks, we discovered that every Friday and Saturday night a beacon sending data using some kind of advanced algorithm had been active at that location. And it was active tonight.”
“Did our deep space surveillance detect the ship?” “We didn’t detect it coming in but when it left it made no attempt to hide. Once this crisis ends, we’ll spend some time looking into how it evaded the deep space surveillance network.”
“Good job – carry on,”
She then turned and looked at the Operations Officer – who had just arrived and was getting briefed. She got his attention and when he turned his attention to her, she said one word: “Ready?”
“I have the most important stuff. QRF went wheels up 5 minutes ago. Flight time to target location is 40 minutes. Augmentation force has just called in and stated that they can be wheels-up on three minutes notice. Aliens were not detected when inbound but were detected outbound.”
The general: “OK the situation is worse than we expected. Launch the augmentation force with orders to take control of the target location and to secure it. QRF is to parachute in and capture anybody they find, then set up security until the augmentation force arrives. Once the augmentation force arrives, they are to return with any people they located and anything unusual that they find. Talk to Captain Ryker – he'll give you the bad news.”
She then turned and called out: “Air Ops – when are we going to have eyes on the target?” A Captain in an Air Force uniform put his hand over the receiver of the phone he was using and replied: “I’ve got two Marine F-35s and a C-130 tanker practicing air refueling ops 150 miles to the south. The F-35s are enroute and I’m working on grabbing the tanker in case the V-22s need fuel.” Estimated time over the target for the F-35s is just over 15 minutes.”
Satisfied that that her staff had things well in hand and that it would be a few more minutes before she needed to do anything, she decided to get a cup of coffee and stay out of their hair until then. She walked into the break room. She poured a cup, took a sip and . . . An angry voice bellowed from the break room: “Who let Navy make the coffee?”
********
“Well, the good news is that the problem appears to be that every battery we have is drained completely. We do have a small solar panel that we can use to charge the battery on the truck enough to get it started. Then we can jump start the RV and get out of here.” “Oh – and now for the really good news.” He pulled out a chemlight, said “Let there be light!” and snapped the vial inside it. A moment later he said: “I thought it would be brighter.”
Alice listened to Frank’s report as she put down the meager amount of sticks and brush she had managed to locate. She then said: “Well it appears that gathering firewood in a desert in the dark is just about as difficult as we expected.”
David came and placed his pile of sticks and dried brush and sat down and started spinning a stick between the palms of his hands. Frank came over and asked: “What are you doing?”
“Spinning a stick. The friction will heat up the tip and we can use that to get a fire started.”
“Why don’t you use the matches in the RV?”
“We have matches?”
**********
“We have eyes on the target location. Sending the imagery to the center display.”
The thermal imagery showed three people sitting around a campfire, a pickup truck and an RV. When the pilot switched the display from ‘white hot’ to ‘black hot’ the previously invisible tables and what appeared to be radio components showed up against the warmer sand underneath them.
“Is the QRF seeing this?” asked the general. The Air Ops officer replied: “They’re piggybacking off of our feed.” And in anticipation of her next question: “QRF is 22 minutes out and will deploy via parachute upon arrival.”
The fire had burned down and the only light was coming from the chemlite. The trio had finished a snack of toasted marshmallows and were now drinking some hot chocolate Alice had made. “Good thing propane stoves don’t need electricity.” Alice said to ease the feeling of gloom that was setting in. David says: “All in all – it looks like we’re lucky that nobody but us knows about this.”
*********
The video from the second F-35 came on – showing the Special Forces team land, discard their parachutes, don gas masks, and then - using nothing but hand signals - form up into an inverted V formation and move out towards the target.
******** Frank: “Well, I think that we might as well go get some sleep. We are going to have to make sure we get the glass out of the bedding though.”
In response to Frank’s comment David added: “Yea – looks like the worst is ov . . .” Then: “What’s that?” as objects landed in the sand on either side of them.
David suddenly couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and his eyes and ears hurt.
**********
Both video feeds showed the same thing. The Special Forces team stunned the three people with flash bangs – then one ran towards each of the three people, yanked them out of their chairs and threw them face down into the sand. They then bound their arms with zip-tie handcuffs and put bags over their heads. The other three provided cover for the first. Once the three were immobilized two commandos kept watch on the trio while other four cleared the RV and the truck.
Then the team sent their first and only radio message: “Bastion – this is Predator Three. Objective secured, three persons detained, continuing mission – out.”

“OK – the good news is that we have determined that you have not been exposed to some alien supergerm that can wipe out all life on this planet. The bad news is that I Hate You. Friday night I was with my boyfriend, and he was about to propose – when I got the recall message.”
The annoyed nurse continued: “The exit doors are unlocking. Take a shower and put on the coveralls. You are no longer my problem!”
David: “What she means is that we are now somebody else’s problem. Somebody who can send a military team to kidnap us.”
Alice: “And has a Level Four Biosafety laboratory to use as a quarantine area.”
The Nurse: “Actually this is a Level Five facility.”
Alice: “What’s the difference between a level Four and a level Five?”
The Nurse: “A Level Five is one that would automatically flood the entire facility with Chlorine Trifluoride if any of you got sick from an alien pathogen.”

I have a long past of psychedelic use but it's been years and for some reason this preparation has me really nervous 😂 I'm worried that it won't be enough but I'm also afraid it will be too much!
Depending how things go I have some Amanita gummies I might throw in too. I get mixed reviews online if it will enhance the trip or if it will kill it due to muscimol acting on Gaba. My body feels great on the gummies and I feel like it could easy body discomfort from the HBWR
I might only drink 75% just to start and be safe and gauge it out. Wish me luck!
Edit/repost 20+min since consumption and wow Im definitely in for a ride

I’m feeling discouraged.
I put on some weight between October and December. 18 lbs to be exact. I stopped taking adderall because it made me so out of touch with my health I couldn’t stand it. But the weight I went up to I have never been to in my life, even pre-adderall.
So here I am in December, 140lbs, ready kickstart my new workout routine and be more mindful in my diet. I’ve always been a fit person, I love cooking and nutrition, and my friends used to come to me for inspiration. In January, I stopped drinking alcohol entirely, it was the only vice in my life I had yet to give up. I joined the Transformation Challenge and decided to track my calories closely to give me that edge. I increased my protein intake for muscle recovery. I have always loved water so chugging away at a gallon a day is pretty easy. I have been consistently going to class 3-4 times a week. On off days I like to hike or run just to get outside. This all sounds great.
I get on the scale today, 140 lbs. My Withings scale says I’ve gained 2% body fat and lost muscle. How?! My pants are still tight. My bras don’t fit ever since I gained weight and I feel uncomfortable. How is it even possible to basically maintain my size despite these efforts? Everyone’s bragging (as they should and I would too) about their changing bodies through OT. I’m still waiting for mine.

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“God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"
Abe say, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"
God say, "No, " Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
Next time you see me comin', you better run"
Abe said, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God said, "Out on Highway 61"
The radio, a martyr’s relic from a bygone era, sounded half as faded as I was.
I reeked of vodka and middy weed. I didn’t care. This lonely stretch of highway belonged to no one as far as I was concerned, and you gambled taking the curves in the dark.
It was your fault if you choose to gamble with me. Least, that’s the way I saw it.
Texas felt so far away.
“Well, Cowboy Dan's a major player in the cowboy scene
He goes to the reservation, drinks and gets mean
And he's gonna start a war
He's gonna start a warrrrrr
And he hops in his pickup
Puts his pedal to the floor
And says, "I got mine
But I want more"
Because Cowboy Dan's a major player in the cowboy scene
He goes to the reservation, drinks and gets mean
He goes to the desert, fires his rifle in the sky
And says, "God, if I have to die, you will have to die"
I hacked up what felt like part of a lung. My hand was stained, the oxidized rust of old blood mixed with a fresh coat of red, a fresco that highlighted a life poorly lived.
Wait.
What happened to Bob Dylan?
Or was it Johnny Cash?
Wasn’t I just listening…
Gaps in time. I prayed I hadn’t taken the ketamine.
That was for later.
If you want proof time is just a strongly worded opinion, just slip into a k-hole.
That was for later.
My eyelids felt heavy.
There were no stars.
Endless pines, only shadowy outlines in the dark, still cover for the night’s starving predators, were all I could make out.
I just guessed at where the road kinked and turned and straightened.
I was playing a game with God, and I wanted to lose.
I wanted us all to lose.
“Dance, Dance to the radio
While the, Devil takes control,
Dance, Dance to the radio,
While the, Devil takes control…”
The warm hug of oblivion, a feeling like endless cookies and Saturday morning cartoons, began slipping its infinite arms around me.
Come and See, and I saw.
It was still the witching hour when I woke with a startled gasp. I could feel the claws of need, withdrawal, dragging up my arms, burrowing into my skin, making the back of my eyeballs vibrate.
Every day the need grew stronger, and every day, I killed off a little bit more of me.
One is too many, and a thousand is never enough.
I was in a ditch.
This wasn’t new or news. I tended to wake up in a lot of ditches. Beats Motel 6. Fewer roaches and you could smoke in every room.
My truck wouldn’t start.
Not even the wheezing gasps of a machine trying to cling to artificial life. Just a click and utter silence.
The battery couldn’t be dead. I checked my watch.
5:55 A.M.
I figured I’d tried to hit the eternal snooze button around 3 A.M. It had only been a few hours. Battery should be fine.
A cursory inspection showed no external damage. No blown tires, no misbegotten wires or missing spark plugs. Hell, it seemed like I’d just slowly cruised into this dark little corner of the universe.
It was as though the truck just gave up the ghost and said, "I’m done." The thirsty horse dropping to the ground in an endless desert, done with the death march.
I bear crawled up the small ravine and onto the highway.
A generous term for a lonely road in whatever the Hell backwater burg America had shit out here.
All I could see were outlines in the dark.
Fitting, I thought.
And then an explosion stole my vision.
Let there be light.
And there was.
And it was good.
Especially good.
Because it was a bar.
A ramshackle of a spot, dive joint meets biker meth hangout, from the looks of it, and it was just powering up.
Shit, if you couldn’t drink on Sunday morning, were we really free? Were we really God’s children at all?
I started ambling toward the light, my eyes adjusting to the deep gloom.
“The Man from Capernaum.”
Hell of a name for a spot in the middle of BFE.
Hell of a name.
Hell.
Hell, I needed a drink.
My watch read 6 a.m. but it was 5 o’clock somewhere, and this place had electricity buzzing it had to pay for and didn’t much strike me as the sort of establishment that probably saw the law as anything more than a nuisance.
I sauntered up to the door, my black boots clicking loudly against the rotten wooden porch.
Into the lion’s den we go.
Unsurprisingly, it was empty as a church on Friday night. Why kill the Son if you can’t have the sin, after all?
But it was unlocked and music was softly crooning from somewhere.
“As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that Good Ol’ Way
And who shall wear the robe and crown
Good Lord, show me the way”
Fantastic. No bartender and proselyting in a shit joint. That’s just what my migraine and itchy skin called for.
I considered hopping the bar and grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but this struck me as a place where your head might become acquainted with a shotgun right quick and nobody would kick up much fuss.
I was going out, a lamb among wolves, but on my terms. I’d had enough violence. I wanted to feel the void swallow me whole, not feel a hole swallow my head.
Plopping down on an empty stool, I risked lighting up a smoke. Certainly they wouldn’t get bent out of shape over a cowboy killer or two.
And shit, who was there to kick up dirt anyway? A ghost town without the spirits, save the ones just behind the bar and out of reach.
The tantalizing fruit in the garden.
God, I need a cold one, now.
“Till armageddon no shalam, no shalom
Then the Father Hen will call His chickens home
The wise man will bow down before the throne
And at His feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When The Man comes around”
The hairs on my arm stood up.
That wasn’t the gentle croon of some A.M. gospel channel. That was someone singin’ in the bar.
In the furthest stool at the left end of the bar, a wild looking man sat, intermittently taking greedy gulps of amber beer and singing loudly, his other arm flailing frenetically as though conducting an unseen orchestra.
Ah, good, a ninja crackhead. That’s just what I need.
He looked over at me and I leapt from my chair and damn near outta my boots.
Ancient as the hills, this man looked like he’d just come down the mountain from communing with the darkness itself.
God damn.
A wild, grey, patchy beard splayed out in every direction, as though the hair itself was trying to escape the vessel that grew it.
The crown of his head was bald but the rest was shaggy white hair, matted in some places, errantly sticking up in others, as though it couldn’t choose between electrocution and submission.
He wore what looked like a white robe, but it was stained with all manner of mess. Copper, brown, yellow, black. Blood, shit, piss, and Heaven only knows what. A fetid robe of many colors.
Tattered, rudimentary sandals held in dirty feet with long, yellowed toenails.
The man reeked worse than sulfur. Worse than death. It was like the pungent stank of the human stain clung to him with reckless abandon.
He was chubby and withered and maddened.
But none of that held a penny to his eyes.
Orbs of the purest white, ringed with seared, blackened flesh around the edges.
Nothing but endless, empty white that somehow felt like it saw nothing but what we all couldn’t see. Nothing of this world but everything we hide in it. Our lies, the horrors behind the masks, what we do in the dark, this tattered, horrible amalgam we have the audacity to still call “a soul.”
Fuck this.
I went to run but found I had no will to do so.
My boots had become one with the earth, like the leather was finally gonna join the cattle that had to die for me to feel like a man.
A crash of thunder stole my hearing, a tiny whirlwind began lifting and smashing bottles from behind the bar.
The seals of the bottles came open, spraying spirits everywhere.
The bar was alight with white fire and a light blasted through the bar that would embarrass the Sun.
Then all was silent and still.
“Nice hooves,” the man said in a velvety baritone.
I looked down at my black boots and back up at him.
There is probably a drug cocktail somewhere in existence where, if mixed properly and taken with utter scientific precision, probably unlocks the gates to Heaven in the human consciousness.
I think I might have found the one’s that unlocked Hell’s.
The man wore a wide, warm grin. Authentic and inviting, the jovial visage of every TV grandfather. Creature comfort. He no longer looked like a raving maniac.
Far from it.
The man was now young, maybe late 20’s.
Golden, feathered locks elegantly curved just behind his ears.
A black cardigan, dark jeans, and new Grecian sandals graced a well-kept temple, a body of with seemingly perfect porcelain skin.
Sapphire blue eyes, pools of painful beauty, the kind that feels like a knife twisting your gut, looked at me with compassion.
I could smell lilac and some spice that seemed reminiscent of a world long gone by but made me what want to curl up with a blanket and read a good book by the fire wafted my way.
A single, marred tattoo of a small cross ran down the index finger of his left hand.
The man sat down and said, “why don’t you and them hooves join me, Pappy?”
I go by a lot of names to keep myself safe in this shithole world, but I hadn’t gone by my real name since I beat a kid black and blue in elementary school for mocking me for it and my daddy had told me he was proud of me. Put a cigarette out on the back of my neck later that same night after a few too many for causing trouble.
The duality of man or whatever the Hell the academics prattle on about, I guess.
“They’re boots,” I snarled, playing at bravery, bluffing like I did every day of this wasted life, hopin’ it might but him back on his heels.
I didn’t know if I was messing with some damned creature not of this world or was just higher than a kite and seeing nonsense. While the latter seemed far more likely, I wanted to prepare for the former.
“Sure,” he said kindly, “sure.”
I sat down on the tattered stool.
“Where’s the bartender? And how the Hell do you know my name?”
“Calm down, son. You look like you could use a drink of the old blood. Sure beats those poisons you keep sticking in that body we gave ya.”
A wine glass appeared before each of us, filled to the brim. The man, or whatever it was, sipped away, humming some forgotten hymnal.
“I ain’t much of a vino fan. Got any Irish whisky?”
He lifted his glass as though to toast me and said “Sure. And you certainly will need that later. For now, the grapes of wrath, as it were.” A soft chuckle left his lips.
I sipped the wine. No sense bucking the bull when you don’t know how big or angry it really is.
It tasted like nothing I had ever had before. An indescribable, wicked deliciousness.
It warmed me up and filled me with light and hope and covered up all the dark holes that had punched through me by others.
Even plugged the ones I’d punched myself.
“We?”
The man took a small sip. “Sorry?”
“You said ‘the body *we* gave ya. *We*.”
It was only then I noticed he was crying.
There were no sobs, no audible gasps, no tremors or shakes, just slow, steady tears of blood dripping from those perfect blue orbs.
“Name’s Arah. I’m an Angel.”
Arah downed the goblet of wine, flecks of his bloody tears caking the glass’s rim.
“Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared.”
This obvious machination of my drug addled brain chuckled louder this time, a slight slur and anger tinging his words.
“I’m even less for all that religious babble than I am for wine. Though this shit’s pretty damn good, I gotta admit.”
“LIAR!” Arah screamed, shaking the whole bar. His eyes were wide and obsidian and his chest heaved heavily.
“Liar.” This, a quiet whisper.
“You spent your whole life in church.
You soaked up every hopeful word, every promise of redemption and fixing, and the truth of that still rattles around inside you.
You can stick all the needles you want into that arm so you can lie to yourself and take away the pain you were meant to bear, but you can’t lie to me. We see everything, for we are many.”
Arah refreshed his glass with a small flourish of his hand before downing it again, his disposition getting slightly wobblier.
“DRINK!” he screamed, and when the world stopped shaking and those eyes turned blue again, I sure as shit started pounding the fermented fruit.
Ain't the time to be picky.
“You aren’t having a bad trip. I'm having a bad trip.”
The endless tears of blood fell quicker, like a swift red river coursing from a deep blue waterfall.
Small pools of it began forming of the bar. A slight acrid smell was on the air, barely noticeable behind all the wonderful aromas.
I felt warm and real and firm. I felt human again. My glass had been refilled and I downed another.
Okay, so I was getting wasted with an angel. Admittedly a first, even for my winding and warped road, but getting blitzed on Jesus Juice sure beat pissing off some emotionally unhinged cherub motherfucker.
“I can’t find Him. I can never find Him.”
Slight groans left Arah’s lips and he gulped down another glass.
With a minor twitch, the glass flew and smashed against the wall.
A nanosecond, if even, after the sound of shattering, it reappeared anew, full of the deep blood wine, before him, and he slurped it down his gullet.
I was trying to keep pace with him.
Shit I could drink a fifth of whisky and make it home alive but something in this good good had me slippin’. A part of me knew I should be petrified to ask, but the rest of me was too faded to care.
“Find who? What brings you here, cryin’ tears in yer beers?”
Now I was the one slurring.
“Take them.”
I looked down at the bar.
A belt. A syringe full of something brown and beautiful.
All the gear.
And six shots of what I prayed was Jameson.
“But where sin increased, grace abounded all the more.”
Arah was slurring hard now, slowly spinning in his chair, laughing and crying.
“Have a taste. At least there’ still manna.”
I shot the whole thing and downed that beautiful Irish whisky. Warmth and light filled me up and stole me away from this putrid rock.
Somehow, as wrecked as I was, I felt I could see Arah all the clearer, like the Sun pushing out the remnants of a storm. His hands looked withered, and those blue eyes looked heavy and tired.
“I miss Him. God. Father.”
I began to mumble some apocryphal question, but a raised hand silenced me.
“We’re taking communion here, son, an act of contrition, of grief, celebration and loss. I’m not giving about to give you a seminar on the finer points of how you all bungled what we gave you and called it ‘religion.’ Just shut the fuck up and drink.”
We downed a glass of wine in unison, a broken human and clearly a broken angel, performing a ritual at the alter we were left with.
“You wanna know why I’m here drinkin’? I know you do. I can hear it rattling around in that little rat brain of yours, gnawing, gnawing, gnawing.
Well, here’s why. GOD LEFT.
You remember your Bible.
Like a schizophrenic mother when the voices just crept too far in, he drowned all his children in the bathtub. He felt regret.
You apes can’t come to terms with the fact that it isn’t cognitive dissonance to be perfect and make mistakes. Your binaries and absolutes are the pathetic crutches you rest on, the prisons you build for yourselves. You think you live in the grey but you don’t. You are the simple minded mistake of something far greater than you could possibly fathom.
Hell ain't nothin' but a door locked from the inside.
He was right to drown all of you, ya know.
You’re an abortion that didn’t take.
You’re the science experiment gone wrong.
You’re the motherfucking poisonous residue left over when the manufacturing process goes the slightest bit awry.
He TRIED. He gave you EVERYTHING. And you chased him away.
He wanted to put you all down. Wipe the slate clean. Shoot the wolf with the broken leg caught in the trap. Mercy. But He had made those fuckin’ rainbows, and He kept his word.
You all sit and pout and scream and gnaw and gnash and blow each other up. Always the same shit in this horrible flat circle.
"My god is real, your god is fake! "
You never once consider you’re all talking about the same damn thing, and more to the point, you're spend your entire lives debating His existence. What a catastrophic waste to be so far from the mark.
Is He real? Is He a fairy tale?
Is there a big bearded man with a sword in the sky or is it just what some primitive apes told themselves to explain the lights in the night sky, a mechanism of control and purpose in an entropic and meaningless world?”
I felt frozen listening to Arah rant.
Somewhere, between the distant sound of brutal words, I heard that radio kick on.
“The Third Planet is sure that they’re being watched
By an Eye in the Sky that can’t be stopped
And when you get to the Promised Land
You’re gonna shake the Eye’s hand”
“You won’t.”
Arah spoke quietly and sipped and audibly sobbed.
“I…I won’t what?”
“Shake his hand. He’s GONE.
You all fight with words and books and swords and shells and atoms about whether he exists. It’s your relentless, simpleminded addiction to dichotomy. It would be so boring if it wasn’t so sickening.
You think He exists, and if He does, He is here and He loves you and hears your stupid little prayers about football and bone cancer and bank accounts and AIDS.
And if He doesn’t exist, well, it’s just a bunch of conmen working over some fools with a fairy tale.
Any of you shitbirds ever consider He exists and LOATHES you? That he cut the cord to that existential phone line and ain’t nobody on the other side of that line anymore?
You live in an infinite universe that is forever exploding and expanding. He exists outside of even that.
You think you’re special? You’re one tiny experiment among so fucking many, I couldn’t make the smartest mathematician in the history of this planet understand how infinitesimally numerically irrelevant you are.
The question isn’t, is God real or is it all a hoax, a self-delusion?
The salient question, Pappy, is whether He’s here. And He ain’t.
He kept his word and let you all live and fester and replicate and mutate like the virus you are. The fruit that ate itself.
But daddy split. Went out for smokes and He ain’t never coming back. Moved onto a new family. Just like He's done again and again and again. And I'm guessing will keep doing 'till He decides He got it right. Ain’t been here for a long time. Long, long time.”
6 glasses of wine appeared before Arah and he downed them all with lightning speed, spewing blood, sobbing and gasping and drinking.
His hair greyed and whitened and fell to the floor.
His nails began to decay and yellow.
The smell of shit and piss and bile crept up and began to make me nauseous.
“And you know who got really fucked? US. The angels.
God gave us instructions and we followed it. We knew what we had and we didn’t deviate. We did our duty. And He left us behind, too.”
Arah’s clothes began to whiten and dirty.
The enrapturing blue of his eyes began to fade, growing paler and lifeless. A wild, twisted beard and belly began to sprout.
“Then it goes and takes along with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first. That is the way it will also be with this evil generation."
Arah began shrieking.
"Fucking humans.
I AM AN ANGEL OF THE LORD YOUR GOD, AND I AM BOUND FOREVER TO THIS SHITHOLE OF A ROCK, ENDLESSLY SEARCHING THE COSMOS FOR A FATHER I CAN NEVER FIND, TRAPPED IN A PRISON I CAN NEVER LEAVE, FOR A CRIME I DIDN’T COMMIT.
YOU ALL DID THIS.
YOU ALL DID THIS.
YOU DID THIS.”
Arah leapt up and grabbed me by the throat, lifting me on high.
Fire scorched his eyes, leaving empty pale pools singed to a blackened crisp at the edges.
The wild, infested thing I’d seen before held me as though I weighed less than the judgment feather.
He was sobbing.
“I…I just did what I was told.
Do you know what Hell is? There’s no fucking lake of fire or torture rack with goats.
It’s this.
An endless existence having tasted God’s grace and love and then forever being separated from it, eternally searching for that one drug you know you can never find.
'Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss.'
This, this place, is Hell.”
All the opium in the world couldn’t save me from the stark terror of this celestial’s tortured judgment.
I was quaking and pissed myself.
“Now I got ya shakin’ in your boots. Nice hooves.”
He threw me and I slammed against the wall and I felt every ounce of wine and heroin and whisky spill out of my body and onto the floor.
In that moment, I felt the unmitigated suffering of absolute sobriety, and I’ve been sober every moment since.
This wild, unfettered thing inched closer to me.
It was only then I noticed the tattoo on his finger more closely. It was…clearer to me now. Everything was. That little cross on his finger was upside down as it faced me.
“What does your name mean, Arah? What did you do that made God leave all his angels behind?”
Arah opened his mouth and two snakes, one a viper, the other a colorful coral, slid out of his mouth and began encircling his head and neck, never striking, never squeezing, simply coiling infinitely.
“YOU FUCKING APES. I’LL RIP THE SOUL OUT OF EACH OF YOU AND EAT IT FOR LIFE ETERNAL.”
Arah, this manifestation of man’s worst nightmare, leapt at me, blood spewing, snakes dancing, the bar shaking and burning and reeking.
Alas, Babylon, for me.
Inches from me Arah froze, held still by some unseen force, his mouth snarling words that only came out as unintelligible, wet squelches.
A voice from the bar’s door whispered a single word.
“World.
In the first tongue, 'Arah' meant ‘World.’
At the door stood an older black woman with the kindest eyes I’d ever seen.
She wore a bracelet of thorns and a dress made of every flower my mind could conceive.
Golden eyes flecked with amber looked at me lovingly.
She quietly sauntered up to Arah and shook her head wistfully, a disapproving but loving mother wishing her child would just behave.
“You would do well to accept your place here, Arah. The Father may be gone, but this is where you and your lot stay. It was not man’s fall that bound you here.
Tell him what you did...Angel.”
Arah fell suddenly to the barroom floor, all the strength clearly sucked out of him.
“I..I did what I was told. I followed the orders I was given. It was for Him, Uriel.”
Uriel tutted her tongue as though an impudent child had told her a silly, obvious fib.
“You can lie to yourself all you want, Arah, but you cannot lie to me.
You, who whispered endlessly to Herod.
You, who dwelt in Caligula.
You, who served Qin Shi Huang.
You, who sought refuge in Robespierre .
You, who possessed Mengele.
‘And the angels who did not keep their positions of authority but abandoned their proper dwelling—these he has kept in darkness, bound with everlasting chains for judgment on the great Day.”
Uriel helped me to my feet, brushed me off, and lightly put her hand on her cheek. It was the only moment in my life I knew what the word “home” meant.
“And you won’t lie to Man, either.
You remember the deal you begged for, Arah? Let remind you:
'They began to entreat Him, saying, “If You are going to cast us out, send us into the herd of swine.'
You had the gall to call his creation, however staggeringly imperfect, swine.
You got what you asked for, then.
And you will have it for all time.
Get behind me.”
Uriel picked me up as though I were a mere baby and carried me to my truck. She laid me gently in the passenger side and started the engine.
The radio kicked on.
“I’m a rolling stone
All alone and lost
For a life of sin
I have paid the cost
Take my advice
Or you’ll curse the day
You started rollin’ down
That Lost Highway”
As she pulled away, I looked back at The Man from Capernaum one last time.
It was consumed in fire and the squeals of pigs shrieking carried through the cool night air.
“Do not pity him.
‘You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons.’
God may have left this world but let the Demon burn.”

Making Contact is about an object-oriented investigation of the universe for signs of intelligent life, which assumes the intelligent life will be somewhere out there – gestures to cosmos – and therefore essentially spatial in its orientation to reality. Spatiality has something to say about the presence of a body as the site of identity and intention, and the body is assumed to develop technology to amplify use-of-force as a form of authority – you can see how it all tumbles out. The inner and outer search for extraterrestrial intelligence likewise represents the directionality of the alien other – the alien is out there, seeming remarkably like ourselves. Given the potential for the intelligent alien other to be appearing trillions of times, universe wide, the notion that some of them will be like us – curious primates with opposable thumbs – seems reasonable.
Reasonable! Have I got a bridge to sell you! Crosses parsecs like nobody’s business, not that we have a good feel for economy at such scales, and even if we did, once such a distance is crossed, by vehicle or electromagnetic frequency, what topics do we use to break the ice? Pet peeves? Travel plans? If you had one superpower, what would it be? Let’s say we get past that, x-ray vision or whatever, aren’t we even mildly apprehensive – sits upright, steeples fingers – about having alien awareness enter our experience of consciousness? If an interstellar vehicle landed in the town square and an alien, by ramp or ladder, appeared before us, would we feel any anxiety at all if the first words that emerged from its lipless mouth were, drink this – meaning the corked veil it just extended in our direction, the contents of which is a complete mystery?
Here in the west, faith serves many functions, not the least of which is to cushion the blow of divine authority as a lived experience. Perhaps we think of divine authority as a magic trick – watch me pull loaves and fishes out of a hat – or like the scene a first-responder might run up against – then we wrapped Lazarus in Mylar, waited for the ambulance to arrive. Reasonable, no? Divine authority and the alien other may be silent threads adding stitches to the dress of day, but then suddenly they’re wearing it, turning this way and that before a mirror, which is us – how exactly do we cope? Yes, I’m worrying at an image of the divine, both in and of our minds, but every now and then, right in front of us, then all around us, relentlessly so, lasting mere minutes, a handful of seconds – but then going on to reorganize the rest of your life.
Faith! May the nothingness-with-a-bounce-in-its-step that is my waking life ever feel your hand in mine, the two of us taking windy walks over hot coals. When scientists hunting for life in the universe inspect the latest data for patterns in the firmament, do they prepare for the moment ritually? A prayer? A few deep knee bends? Some self-styled promise not to lose every hint of personal volition – a puff of smoke in a windstorm – because something with the circumference of a supreme being just leaped out of the data and onto the ledge of one’s mind? Do we imagine numbers and graphs are what’s actually discovered? Sure, I know, peer review, the expectations of the industry, I mean field – the expectations of the field, and what proper science looks like in the raw. The rawness itself is vastly assembled, industries working in concert to make even that.
Where does the contact experience begin and end? – what I worry about with the scientists and the data. A very reliable place to observe something analogous, in most any municipality, is arraignment court – a venue where the contact experience is governed by state authority, and the matter of being kidnapped by aliens toting glocks and tazers, then put in cages – takes on a whole other level of real. Defendants appear before the judge, are read the charges against them and possible penalties, and their expression says volumes about what contact with an authority greater than our own will be like – not a violation of anyone’s law but such a challenge to self-determination that months might go by, even years, before that moment in arraignment court can bear to be remembered. The court’s decisions are likewise driven by peer-reviewed data.
The woman in jail stands before the court via video screen, accused of aggravated domestic battery during a dispute the night before. By the time she stands before the judge, she has been in jail for 10 hours and stares unblinking, like someone using all her strength to remain upright and conscious. When the matter of bond comes up, the attorney for the prosecution reads from the police report about what was alleged to have happened, which report includes direct quotes – Black vernacular, filled with regrettable threats, read aloud by a perfectly sober white attorney who stresses the consonants at the ends of words. The woman I see before me, standing inside an airless space created by the authority of the state, begins sobbing uncontrollably, covers her face, doubles over. Such are the agonies of the contact experience, when the facts are added up.
She is alleged to have stabbed him with a 10-in. kitchen knife – a nonlife-threatening wound, but a moment of jarring truth that gets everyone’s attention in the courtroom. Did the contact experience begin then, when she reached for the kitchen knife? Before then? Did their love grow faint in the kitchen in particular? Near an ordinary cutting board to extremes? Did personal volition vacate the premises, the matter of making decisions fall under the spell of something else? Where terror comes to rest, we throw a sheet upon it, call it rage. The defendant’s tears in arraignment court, 10 hours after it happened, are about more than regret – also a bewildered exhaustion about what it feels like when one way of being in the world is rapidly replaced by another, and you’re alone in jail, bond set at $25,000, which someone paid the following day.
Could a dataset do that? Place the mind inside an alien organism for years at a time, even as the body goes about its business? The legendary science fiction author Philip K. Dick reported an encounter with the alien other on February 3, 1974, that precipitated an 8000-page exegesis, plus a series of books in which the author postulates the presence of a vast active living intelligence system, the system part seeming to me a little perfunctory – like he was probably detecting the outline of his own ontology with the system part. The encounter undoubtedly changed his life and to such a degree, the future might know Philip K. Dick as an avatar who happened also to write compelling science fiction. I haven’t read his work in a while, but he seemed to enjoy what he did, realized success in his own lifetime, rubbed shoulders with the noted and notorious.
What transpires when the unknown becomes known? A point in space opens its mouth as wide as it can, swallows the unknown, end to end, in its entirety – can you imagine that from the inside out? A mind grander than conception can itself conceive takes the place of the sky, and the daylight hits the window sill with an all new sense of purpose in its stride, like its ready to grow an entirely different kind of life. And what would any new life want to know before it commits to making contact with the human? Despite the skulls inside our heads, we are not a prison planet! And we vow to love one another despite the numerous exceptions! And someday everyone will do the right thing for the right reason all the time, feel the freer for it! But for now, our teleportation device tends to be on the glitchy side, fills in the gaps with intuition.
May future datasets furnished by the aliens greet science like the exhaust ports of bakeries in the morning. For now, though, we’ll take what we can get.