People Are Revealing the Things About Themselves That Seems Fake But Are the God's Honest Truth

I was diagnosed with PTSD because of dreams I had. Because of sleep apnea and how my brain dealt with not being able to complete full sleep cycles without getting interrupted, for almost 15 years I would have intensely vivid dreams at night that mostly prevented me from being able to tell it wasn't reality, and none of them would fade from memory after waking.

My brain was dreaming and filing it under long term memory of "things happened while conscious."

Sometimes absurd things would happen that are common in dreams and I accepted them as normal, as you do in dreams, there were okay nights in those 15 years of course, but otherwise anything terrible that did happen stuck with me and sometimes still affect me 15 years later.

Like, for example, the dream I had where I was put on death row, and I was executed by being forced to cut my own throat open.

I know now that the feeling of floating in a dizzy-like state while everything I'm seeing starts to move away in a tunnel, everything fading to black, is just a result of periods of no oxygen from the apnea, but I had no idea at the time.

I have faced my mortality several times in dreams like these. Several times having to suddenly accept I am dying and accept I couldn't offer my family last good byes because I was often not at home and dying rapidly.

The worst dreams were the ones that were unusually long. Where I feel like weeks were spent, usually something repetitive that blended those "weeks" together like traveling long distances by foot or sailing across the ocean or once spent every day nailing down stakes for what seemed like a never-ending fence.

These dreams were the worst because I would make real emotional connections with people that didn't exist. I would wake up in a room that felt like I hadn't seen in months, incredibly confused for several minutes, and sometimes sob at what I was realizing.

Between direct nightmares like the paragraph above or losing friends that never existed, the effect it had on my waking life had me match the minimum number of symptoms for my therapist to diagnose me with PTSD.

**Extra info**, you can scroll past the rest of this if you want since I've already made my point, but it's been cathartic to write out so I'm gonna continue: When I wasn't having nightmares or long weeks doing mundane tasks, I would mostly have my dreams in the same "city".

Every place I would interact with would almost always eventually connect to another place I had dreamt before, if my dream wasn't already solely in places I had been before. 15 years of this and I had a map in my head of where everything was and how to get there.

These dreams were where less realistic things would happen, making me know they were dreams when awake, but there were plenty of instances of conversations I'd have with in-dream friends and family members that I tried to follow up on when awake, and it was embarrassing every time.

After someone heard me gasping at night and talked to me about sleep apnea, I now sleep with a CPAP machine and it has dramatically changed my life. I don't have vivid dreams anymore, I forget them pretty quickly when I wake up like you're supposed to, but I did go through the 5 stages of grief when I started forgetting the map of the in-dream city I could no longer visit, a place I lived in at night for 15 years.

I didn't have any fake people living there that I cared about, but I had a lot of memories there, and I was starting to forget some of the older ones, and the realization that these memories were never supposed to have been formed to begin with had me emotionally spiraling for awhile.

Anyway. It's nothing I can prove, other than maybe asking family members/friends to recall the times I tried to follow up on conversations that were never had, so I don't talk about it. My wife knows, my therapist knows, and now all of you know though anonymously, but not even my parents know about it.

It can be embarrassing to talk about to people I interact with frequently because if someone does believe me.. I don't feel like my "problems" are equal to others'. People live nightmares everyday that I got to wake up from, and I never want to take away the attention they should be getting instead.

Username: koreiryuu

Story time, late in the game. Hopefully someone reads it and laughs. I went to the College of Charleston. We were hosting the University of North Carolina in a very highly anticipated basketball game in 2010.

We ended up winning in a semi-buzzer beater fashion and everyone got hammered afterwards in typical college fashion. However, this story is about my then-roommate whom we will call... Carl.

The College decided it was time to become hip and have a pregame tailgate and allow students of age to drink some beer. We went, of course. Somehow, we missed the memo of the *time allowed for beer or wine consumption*.

We showed up a few hours before the game, cracked a few beers and within minutes asked to leave and come back at the drinking time. Okay no big deal.

We end up at a friend's house a few blocks from the gym (this was also a really big deal kind of game because the game was in the new arena). Carl finishes his 6 pack there in about an hour. He goes to the corner store, purchases 2 Four Lokos and another 6 pack.

He then finishes the 2 four lokos. He is bye-bye at this point. We get back to the first ever tailgate at the appropriate time to consume alcohol. Carl finishes the other 6 pack in this time period. Bye, man.

UNC is running onto the court and Carl is throwing things at the players and yelling obscenities. We start to distance ourselves from him at this point. We look back and realize he is gone and later found out he was removed from the student section. (The rest of the story is from communication from campus and city police).

He decides at some point that he has to pee. He finds his way into the women's team locker room and just starts pissing on the floor. A female in there was spooked and called security. He was resisting a little when trying to be removed, so officers remove him forcefully through some back doors.

As soon as they asked able to get him on the ground and keep him still, people have started to gather around the scuffle out back. He proceeds to scream "they're raping me! They're raping me! HELP! THEY'RE RAPING ME!" The officers proceeded to arrest him and keep him overnight.

We thought Carl had just found some unlucky gal to hang out with (as he was notorious for).

The next morning the gentleman that owned the corner store near our house comes knocking on our door. His English was certainly not the best. He stumbles through explaining that Carl was in jail and needs a ride, he made bail.

This was the only landline he knew in the area. We go get Carl and he has a very vague and foggy memory of what happened, so we tell him what the officers told us.

He is put on academic and campus probation in front of the honor board. They tell him he has 3 weeks to gather witnesses andwrite a personal statement to defend his case to avoid expulsion a month from graduating.

I was selected as a witness and painted him like the rich, well to do, golden boy he was when I first met him. He graduated with the rest of us.

Username: [deleted]

Oh man. This is the entirety of my life. One particular time of my life is subject to constant scrutiny by my family and friends.

I sold everything I owned and moved to Central America and ended up staying in some islands for a while. Carnival was going on. It was a gorgeous, almost idyllic example of a carribbean archipelago (that since has been found by spring breakers).

Well, my friends and I rented a kayuko (Think a super long canoe that is actually just a tree with an outboard motor on it) to go island hopping to the various bars and parties there to celebrate carnival.

The night itself was exactly as you'd expect; drugs, sex, drinking, and general hedonism. As we are finishing up the night, we decide to stop on a dark island for a small little bonfire to finish out the liquor we have and everything.

I am blackout drunk at this point. This is also apparently when my blackout drunk habit of grabbing a bottle of liquor and began to manifest.

I snuck off into the jungle and passed the fuck out. The indio we hired was coked out of his gourd and probably on mushrooms, so he didn't do a head count when they left. I was left as unceremoniously as a red-headed baby on the stoop of a convent.

I woke up the next morning, feeling as hungover as an entire family of Irish Catholics on Saturday. I got up and looked around and stumbled to the beach and promptly chummed the water. I weakly ambled around to gain my bearings and found the remnants of last nights' fire.

Then I saw I was not on a main island of the archipelago. Things were shaping up to be an embarrassing morning, but not unbearable.

Not a big deal, so I thought, since many of these smaller islands had a single house on them and I'd just go to their house and call a water taxi. So I picked left and began walking. After about 30 minutes, I end up coming back across the bonfire. Nobody lived on this island. Fuck.

Thankfully, there were a lot of young coconuts on the island. If you're strong enough, you can open young green coconuts with your bare hands.

I spent the next 3 days getting fucking hammered on the island (finishing my liquor; I had planned to cope with my mortality when the shitty rum was gone) and eating coconuts and mangos.

Nobody noticed I was gone until I didn't show up for my work; then my friends noticed that hey, Poultrigeist hasn't been around for a while. It should be noted that a diet of coconut water, mangoes, and cheap central american rum will give you diarrhea that would make Montezuma ill.

The worst part? Nobody fucking knew what island they stopped on, including the owner of the kayuko since he was indeed fucked up on blow and shrooms that entire night.

I was found at dusk on the 3rd day I was on that little island, having finished my liquor.

Username: [deleted]

Little did we know at the time, but we were being groomed to be the college kids in the RV. Here's how it happened.

They (one male, two females) randomly showed up at our fraternity house and told us they were filming an oversea's documentary and said they'd give us $100 apiece for the best / craziest /drunken / wildest stories, then take us for drinks and dinner (on them) if they were best four stories they found (we found out later that they went to several other houses that week with the same spiel). Well, it just so happened that our four stories were the craziest.

Sure enough, one of the ladies from the interview comes back the next week, gives us the cash in hand, (after we signed a ridiculous amount of paper work) and took us to Hooters. We eat, drink, get suspicious. Eat more, drink more, get less suspicious.

Eat way more, drink way more, get way more suspicious. She starts prodding us with weird and pointed questions, like sexual conquests, binge drinking and racism.

We asked if she was recording this, she said no and showed us her purse (this was back in the day where most phones didn't have that capacity).

Well, anyway, we're there for a while, and she tells us to hold on that she'd be right back. She goes over to a different table where a guy was sitting (can't remember if it was the same guy from the interview) and talks with him a bit.

We go back to drinking and eating, and the next thing we know, she, along with the guy, were gone. We asked the waitress waiting on them if she'd seen them and she said they paid and left.

We then asked our waitress if she knew what the f was going on (at this point we thought we just got stiffed for a $200+ tab) and she said she didn't know, but that the woman we were drinking with had not only paid for what we ate / drank, but also an extra $100 for anything else we wanted. We stayed, ate, drank, left. And then never heard from her, or him, or anyone about it ever since.

We got a ride back to the house (hooray for pledges!) found their business card from the first interview, and the address was apparently a random giant warehouse (not on a movie lot) in LA but couldn't find any existence of the business.

It wasn't until years later (keep in mind, we we're freaking out because we all had careers and family and didn't want whatever story we told to end up online) when I was reading about the lawsuit those USC kids filed that we figured out we were being screened for Borat.

Sure enough, we checked the dates and it would have put the film crew in our area at that time (a part of the movie that made the cut was near our campus around the same time).

The reason we didn't "make the cut?" They just happened to pick four non-racist non-sexist fraternity brothers (two-liberals, a future political PR manager and a future Priest) with four crazy-ass stories.

Username: Darth_Draper

I've posted this before in a similar style thread and got many, many PMs of disbelief so here you go: "When I was like 10 years old, I was summer friends with Natalie Portman.

I lived in Buffalo, NY. My best friend lived a block away on a red brick road. There aren't many of those in town, so it stands out in my mind. One day in one summer, I go over to his house and a girl is there hanging out.

Her Aunt and Uncle or Grandma and Grandpa, lived next door and she was staying with them for the summer. Her name was Natalie, or Nat, or Neta. I'm pretty sure we called her Neta, but it was over a decade ago.

She was a year or two older than us, but we were mature for our age so it was okay. At first she was very shy, but she didn't have any family her age there, so it was us and her for at least a few weeks. Maybe months.

She did open up a bit over time, but was still a quiet and reserved kid. I had a major crush on her, but my friend was straight up in love with Macho Man Randy savage's wife, Miss Elizabeth.

We played a lot of catch, Sega Genesis, (i recall her being obsessed with Kid chameleon) and reading books. We would take turns reading books the other ones picked for each other. So much time laying around in living rooms or at the parks reading.

Even though the importance of it was lost on us at the time, She talked about having just filmed a movie. I now know what a big deal it was that it was Leon. She was either starting or had just finished doing interviews and such for it.

Either way, staying with her family was a break from all of that. She liked Buffalo much better than the noisy New York City and/or Paris she had just came from.

She didn't go to school like us. Which I remember was really interesting to me because she still seemed so normal. At the time "home schooling" kids was this big deal. It was stereotyped that they were all weird. But she was nice, and sweet, and patient, empathetic. And very smart.

When she left I cried so hard. As a gift, I thought I had given her my copy of "For Whom the Bell tolls." It was a blue leather bound copy that I cherished. But later I found it in a box for a garage sale. So I have no idea what I gave her. Whatever it was, it was a blue leather bound book with gold lettering. I have a vivid memory of giving it to her at the airport.

What's weird to me, is that no one ever believes it. Even my Mom. She saw her many times. She was in our house frequently because I lived across the street from the park. I even remember looking for Leon in theaters but it never came.

(Of course it ended up being a limited American release as the Professional. But how would I know that, there was no internet) I did actually wonder sometimes if Natalie just made it all up.

But I was pretty sure her family had mentioned it a few times. And they had at least talked about auditioning for other things in the future many many times. But when Star Wars came out a few years later, I freaked out in the theater because I recognized my old friend. My mom insisted it wasn't her.

We stayed through to the credits but my Mom knew her as Neta or Nattie, and still said it wasn't her. She even told a family counselor of this lie I made up and the shrink agreed with her. We were there for my brother anyways so it wasn't too bad for me, but still.

I've since also told a few close friends, but they've always thought it was made up too. i understand that though. It's totally random and she is a huge star. One of the best living actors there is. I know it was real. That's all that matters to me."

Username: admiralnorman

This is the story of how me and my mates tried to scare his neighbors and ended up almost getting shot at, having a dog attack me, then saving someone’s life on accident

So it was my friends birthday, he invited me and 3 others over to his house for a sleepover while his mom and dad were out working. It started like a normal sleep over, we drank soda, played video games, talked about school and such. But it didn’t get interesting until we had found a mask in his room under trash, it was a plan White mask we a crooked bloody smile on it.

After realizing that mixed with a full black Trench-coat, I would look like I just came out of a nightmare. We goofed around with it seeing who can do the best serial killer Impression, until we heard his little brothers phone go off because of there Neighbor sending him a Snapchat streak.

We were about to brush it off until one of us had the idea of one of us put on the mask and trench coat then slowly walk down the road and wave at her. After thinking about it we all agreed to do it and that I would be the one to do it. So at like 12:30pm I dawning the mask and Trench-coat.

I walked out the back door, jumped the fence, walked trough the forest back to the main road. I stood in the street for a minute until I got the all clear for Sam to proceed, I started walking with kind of a slow dance feel to it, to the point I was full on twirling and sliding. On one of the twirls I saw her by her window staring.

At this point I was in the weird zone of walking like a mad man to the point I pretended to fall, then catch my self, then proceeded to slowly look up at her, then slowly wave. (As I look back at this I feel like a ass) After doing all this I was met with the satisfaction of her horror, she than ran out of her room and to what I think was her parents room to tell them. At this point I should have stopped but I didn’t. After I had continued down the road with my walk I heard there door open and there dog barking.

When I turned around I saw the father shirtless in is boxers with the Chan of their dog leash in his hand with another object in his other, I couldn’t see what it was but I had assumed it was a flashlight that didn’t turn on. After marking eye contact with him for a minute I proceeded to do a slow little wave then proceed down the road. After a few steps I heard the most terrifying, blood curdling scream I have ever heard in my life, fallowed by another scream.

As I turned around I saw that the man was not looking at me and that the scream came from there house, “oh wow I really scared them that much? Well I made it this far might as well keep going” I thought as I started to walk again. As I walked I peeked over my shoulder to see what was happening, I saw the man run into his house to see what happened to his family then him also yell.

It was at this point I realized two things, first being that what ever they were screaming about was not me and Second being that when I ran he let go of the dog, yes the very same dog that was running at me full throttle.

When the dog tackled me it knocked me to the to the ground then Practically tosses me around like a play thing, repeatedly biting my ankle and my shoe to the point it ripped my shoe off, After it got my shoe it basically forgot about me.

I then did what I did to get to the road in the beginning, jumped the fence, walked through the forest, jumped another fence and walked into the back door. After a quick little Mission success party they showed me the video they took but specifically the part of the father coming out and that the other object in his hand was a revolver.

I saw that and immediately came to the realization that I could have been shot because I decided to take it a little to far. After cooling down we decided to finish up playing the game, until we started to hear faint sirens getting louder and louder to the point the were parked right in front of there house.

Two of the paramedics jumped out and ran to into the house then ran back, grabbed a stretcher then ran back in. After like 30 seconds they had came out and with them a kid that looked to be 16-18 on the stretcher. Later that week I learned that the guy was her brother and that he had a overdose on Myth.

The reasons for the screams earlier was because his sister went to tell him about “a weirdo dancing in the streets” when she found him on the floor with From coming out of his mouth. To summarize, if we didn’t decided to do the prank then the brother would have probably have died that night

Username: my-name-is-bob-ross-

Growing up in Sydney, Nova Scotia - there wasn't too many opportunities to have interactions with NHL hockey players (the closest we had was Edmonton's AHL affiliate Cape Breton Oilers for a few years).

However my dad was pretty special, and he'd go out of his way to make the best of any opportunities that arose. He also had an amazing ability to just "chat people up", and end up getting into places/situations that members of the public had no place being. There are 2 that I remember vividly..

The first was the 1987 Canada Cup. Team Canada played an exhibition game at Centre 200 in Sydney.

Dad finds out when their plane is arriving, so we're waiting at the airport to try and get autographs.. i'm a huge Oilers/Gretzky fan of course.. most of the team came through arrivals, but because of Gretzky's popularity at the time, apparently they scurried him around the back to the bus without coming through the airport.

Not satisfied with that, dad manages to find out what hotel the team is staying at... so off we go. Walk around the hotel lobby and floors a bit.. saw some players, but still no Gretzky.

Somehow dad manages to find out that a few of the Oilers are eating at a local restaurant - Joe's Warehouse - so off we go.

Dad sweet talks the host at the front.. "hey my little guy is a huge Gretzky fan and we heard they're eating supper here.. do you think we could come in for an autograph..?" The host says "hang on.. let me go ask".

Comes back a few minutes later, "come on back". So they bring us up to the table and sure enough, Gretzky, Messier, Anderson, Fuhr, Coffey and a few others are there.. I'm a deer in the headlights.

I had this Oilers hoodie on with a few of the players numbers on it and Gretz points to his 99 and says to me "I like your shirt!"... I can't even remember if I said anything back.

They pass my piece of paper around the table and all autograph it.. dad thanks them and off we go. (I still have that paper to this day).

The second.. was an "Old Timers" game in 1990. Got to meet Bobby Hull and get his autograph (he was actually refereeing, but not playing.. I don't know why).. but that wasn't even the coolest part. After the game dad takes me and off we go into the bowels of Centre 200.. around the barriers.. to look for players.

Before I know it we're on an elevator with Gordie Howe, and one other kid and his mom. Gordie is signing an autograph for this kid and i'm watching "over his arm"..

Gordie playfully elbows me in the chin and says "what are you looking at?!" with a big smile on this face. Again... deer in headlights... I can't even remember if I said anything back...

I remember dad talking with him and saying "so who do you think is going to win the cup this year Gordie?" .. (Gretzky was traded to LA at this point), and him replying "I think the Oilers are going to win it again". Well wouldn't ya know it.

Username: birchy98

I basically experienced the “The Hangover” I went to Vegas on my own for a family gathering however I decided to go a few days early so I could have the “Vegas” experience.

My cousin who lives there used to be a manager at a very popular Nightclub and introduced me to a couple of her friends, who were either still club managers or knew somebody, they basically said I could do whatever I wanted wherever I wanted.

The next 72 hours was so absolutely insane that I can’t possibly list everything that happened. I picked up a trio of tourist girls, took them to several different nightclubs (nightclub hopping is not a thing in Vegas unless you’re VIP, didn’t really know that).

We saw Calvin Harris, Steve Aoki, Illenium, and a few other DJs over those three days. The 2nd night We went bottle cruising at a club and I ended up hanging out with this group of foreign guys and a bunch of strippers we talked about cars.

The girls ended up leaving but the guys asked me to party with them so I did. We went to the high stakes poker table where one guy lost 10k, called his dad for another 10k and won it all back.

We got kicked out of an after hours club, I fell down one of those rock/gravel inclines that separated the parking lot and sidewalk without seriously hurting myself, and a couple of other things that happened that I can’t really say.

The next day one of the guys got a hold of me wanting me to go with them to another club, the club just happened to one that was managed by someone my cousin introduced me to.

I texted him, told him what was up, he comped me a couple bottles and a table (told me to just tip the waitress).

We all went and I brought the girls and they brought their girls and had an insane night. The guys ended up buying the next couple bottles and tipped the waitress for me.

Random other things that happened, I walked from Mandalay bay to The Strat just so I could appreciate the strip, ran into a bachelorette party and made out with the bride (She told me AFTER the fact), and got to try Michael Jordans new tequila for free (they sent me with a bottle, I looked up the price and it is EXPENSIVE).

The best part? I only paid for my flight food and Ubers, so about $300. The hotel room was comped thanks to my cousin.

I not only didn’t wait in line, but at some clubs I was given drink tickets, and at others the people I brought bought my drinks since I got them in for free without the “VIP” bs.

Several of them I friended on Facebook and they invited me to visit them when I’m ever in their neck of the woods, which for a couple is the other side of the planet. None of my friends believed me, until I showed them the photos.

Username: SilentCabose

I died 4 times already, kinda. I was born with a heart condition which was discovered just a few days after my birth. The first few months of my life were basically a movie for my family.

Traveling throughout the country and the nearby countries for a proper treatment. At the time, no doctor in my country was able to do the certain surgery that was needed, so we had to go to Italy to find one.

Even in Italy, it took a lot of searching, but we eventually were able to. They were telling us that they basically dont have anywhere to put me, that they are "full". Technically they were willing to let me die. The 2 people who saved my life were my uncle and a doctor from my country.

At the time, my parents were in complete shock, imagine having a child, and a few days after birth you are traveling across the continent trying to keep him alive, so my uncle had to take responsibility. The doctor knew the doctors in Italy personally, so he arranged everything.

My uncle also had to literally bribe the government so we could leave the country, because its usually impossible for a person to leave the country until the person turns 6 months old, when they can get their passport.

When we went to try and create my passport, they actually wouldnt let us, regardless of the fact that I waa about to die in the next few weeks if we didnt leave the country. My uncle had to give them money so we could get the passport earlier.

When we got the passport we were able to leave the country, which is when it happened. As we were traveling in the ambulance truck, my heart stopped beating 4 times, and the nurses declared me dead multiple times.

They all called it a miracle. Even after the surgery, we werent safe. My parents were told that they cant guarantee that I will survive because I was still an infant. Everything went okay, and here we are.

I had another surgery in April 2019, which was an open heart surgery, it also went perfectly. I know have a scar going across my chest which id say looks cool as shit.

Anytime I feel down, depressed or sad for any reason, I remember that I shouldnt even be here, it gives me appreciation for life and existence.

After my surgery in 2019, I definitely changed, became interested in more things and started learning about everything. I take life both more seriously and as a joke. Its all a game, and you are the main character.

I am now 17, turning 18 on the 21st of August which is a living miracle, since I wasnt supposed to make it throughout the first few weeks of my life.

I dont want to make myself seem above anybody, but I choose to believe that this journey serves some kind of purpose in my life. It most probably doesnt, but it makes me value life and myself more, so why not?

"Dont worry about life and reality, because you dont understand any of it."

Username: vRobbie17

In my school we had a senior skip day. It was tradition. Every year we’d go down to the local water park and we’d see if we could beat the previous year’s high score. We’d go down one of the covered water slides, and one person would plug it up, and we’d see how many of our other high school class could fill up the slide.

The lifeguard on duty was a graduate who knew the routine. The previous year had managed a commendable fifty-six kids, it was hard to be sure, it was difficult to keep count before the weight was too much on the kids in front, and our combined mass forced everyone through.

We were going to blow that record away. That’s what I was told. We were going to reach seventy. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were all prepared, all excited. We let the guys on the football team line up first, their strength and weight would be capable of holding up the line. Then we went through, one by one, sliding down into the small space.

I was near the middle. It was a fun slide, until I slammed up against a body in front of me. It was painful for me, my heels digging into his back, and I could only imagine what it was like to him, until the next forced their way into me.

My legs went under his arms, my feet against a person two in front of him, and I braced myself with my arms against the slide, the water rushing between us.

I sat there, crammed between two people, my arms tired trying avoid becoming pressed up against the person in front of me. I remember his skin, slick and tan, and the cool water pouring passed us both, both of our mouths locked in a smile, enjoying our little prank.

I must have been there for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. The atmosphere became hot with the heat of bodies all shoved into that tiny, confined space, forcing the water up to our chins.

The laughter turned to panic. I could hear a girl scream first, and then a crack, like thunder, from behind us. Screams turned to cries to move, to let go. Then we could all feel it. Our weight was too much, and the slide began to slump.

One of the pillars holding the slide had broken away, and the slide shifted violently near the middle. I began to yell with the rest of them, pleading the people in front to let us out. My body was forced into a cramped fetal position, nearly drowning in the rushing water, my cheek against someone’s back, as people forced and fought their way through. I could hear people cry out, begging us to let go, but we were trapped just like them.

Then, hardly able to breath, caused either by the weight forced on me, or the water rising up to my eyes, I could feel it. A section has collapsed; the one directly behind me. It disconnected and teetered away from us. It leaned down and fell forward, belching out children to the concrete walkway three stories below us.

It forced ours backwards, and we teetered back, and then forward. My hands braced firmly on the sides, I could feel the person behind me grab my waist, keeping him from falling.

Screams and cries for help rang out from the disconnected slide behind us. The pitches of the screams kept changing, different pitches from the boys and from the girls as each fell through, no one to hold them back, the water forcing them through the open tunnel pouring them towards the hard concrete below.

In an instant the panic subsided, and the people began to move. The person in front of me dislodged and started to slide forward, and my legs were freed. Our section had slumped down where it joined the section in front of us. It overcompensated and a sharp lip was formed where it didn’t quite line up. I slid over it with my bare back, taking with it a long swath of skin.

I laid in the pool where the slide deposited us; blood filling it up from the sharp edge that took a piece of my back. There were dozens of us, crying, screaming, or in shock.

Three kids died that day. The first two to fall suffered a broken neck and a fractured skull, the third was crushed to death by the others, dying of a collapsed chest. Another seventeen were sent to the hospital.

I have a white scar that crosses my back like a lightning bolt that always reminds me of that day. And I still have trouble in confined spaces, and whenever I’m in the shower.

Username: Killhouse

Late to the game so this will get lost, on phone so formatting, super long blah blah

Back when I was in high my friends and I were kinda dumb. Drank a lot, did drugs and the such. Well somehow our group found this older dude (he was maybe 40 and I don’t know the back story of where he came from) that would let us come over and drink there. He’d buy the beer and there would be about 5-8 of us, mostly dudes but sometimes a few girls too.

This dude was one of the weirdest fucks I have ever met. He had chickens (in an area where no one had their own chickens) and named each one after a deadly disease like Ebola and shit.

He had animal porn, back in the day during VHS/the start of DVDs, so before the internet. Super weird guy, looking back we should not have ever gone there.

Well this dude would get wasted. It didn’t take much so looking back I think he was faking it. Once he got wasted we would start fucking with him.

He would ask for “high shots” which would consist of someone standing on the table and spitting into his beer. Most of the time we would miss on purpose and just spit on the top of his bald head.

He was “allergic” to weed so we would steal one of his cigarettes and take out the first quarter of the tobacco and fill it with weed. We would then put the spiked cig back into his pack but make it stick out a little so he’d smoke that one next. When he would take drags of the weed cig he would start twitching and making this high pitched “heh” sound.

As everyone got more drunk the “pranks” would get more fucked up. People would take his beer into the bathroom and piss in it and put it back on the table. He’d guzzle that shit with no idea.

We would just start straight up spitting on him. Not even pretending they were “high shots”. If you had to spit, you would just spit in his face, like super casual.

He would just sit there like he was passed out and didn’t know what was happening but yet still semi awake and drinking. The worst I ever saw was when one of my friends just got up and pissed on his back when he was sitting in the kitchen chair. Full on, huge, drinking beer all night, piss all over him.

The whole scenario was just insane. The first time I went there I was a freshman so I was 14. I probably went there a few times a year until my senior year.

We really only went when there weren’t any huge high school keg parties that night. I felt super bad for the dude and didn’t really do much to fuck with him but I admit I didn’t stop anyone and did laugh my ass off at times.

The weirdest part about this was that I ended up seeing him out in town a few times randomly, like at a convenience store, and he would be normal as fuck. I had a normal conversation with him like you would a friend you happen to pass by but instead he was this weird old dude that hung out with underage kids, got them drunk, and let them do all kinds of weird shit to him.

I almost never tell this story because it’s weird as hell and not normal at all, but when I do you can tell that the people just think I’m full of shit.

Username: [deleted]

Tried posting this somewhere else but maybe here people will see it because it's the most ridiculous story for me: That I had not ever had ketchup for most of my life, for an utterly ridiculous reason.

I found myself around 4 years old in my play room after messing around with my RC Jurassic Park stegosaurus eating a fresh batch of chicken nuggets my mom had made. This was the early 2000s so they were still fond of playing music videos and edgy adverts for rock bands on TV.

So anyway there I am, nuggets in hand with ketchup in tow watching TV when suddenly a commercial for some Ozzy Osborne concert comes on the tube.

Now this was still when the whole thing of him biting the heads off bats was still going on (obviously I understand the context now and not then).

So I guess to poke fun of this controversy he decides to bite the head off a fake rubber bat on this commercial and a bunch of fake blood comes pouring out of its neck.

Now me not having seen anything like this I looked down to my little Disney themed plate and the pool of ketchup besides my chicken and back at the blood on the TV. My little developing brain puts the two together as equal and I immediately stop eating and put my nuggets away.

I proceed then for at least the next decade to never have ketchup grace my lips. Granted for a while it was because of this experience, but eventually I just never felt the desire to break my ketchup fast, for no reason other than pure apathy. Eventually I forget what the shit even tastes like.

So fast forward and my family and I are on vacation in some random town at some chain restaurant with Asian fare. I get something and they bring me a few sauces to go with it, without saying what they are.

I eat my meal while dipping into one of the sauces, thinking to myself "fuck this is amazing I have to know what this delicious sauce is".

I'm ranting and raving about it, telling the whole table and insisting they all try. I assumed it was something I wouldn't have known because it may have been an Asian sauce I've not tried.

Our waitress comes back to our table and asks how to food is, to which I respond by applauding this sauce and demanding to know what it was.

A mixture of confusion and bewilderment crosses her face as she says "uh ketchup?" . She thought I was fucking with her, my family bursts out laughing, I'm amazed.

The fast was over and god damnit ketchup was king again. I proceed to tell my family the reason I had never had it to which they laugh even harder.

Username: snadwich_nam

I once rode a cow. Lmao. I worked at a dairy farm for a while (17 M.) I worked there for a year until I eventually found another job, well shortly before I left I was standing outside watching for heats (watching the cows "graze" or more accurately shit and soak up sunlight) when I saw a cow who I was fairly familiar with #239 (most cows are incredibly stupid and meen assholes but this one was a love bug.)

She was standing diagonally aligned with the fence with about a foot of space separating them.

Well, I'm a dumb ass and decided the most appropriate thing for me to do was to go and climb the fence without spooking the girl, stand at the very top, and just spread my legs mid air after I straight up yeeted myself off the fence. I landed a little closer to her hind end .

(Cows are also incredibly tough so she only felt discomfort upon impact, also I'm 5'7 and only weigh 135 lbs.)

Anyway, I landed a little torwards her hind end just in front of her abdomen which just barely kept me in place, and out of instinct, she took off running. I then leaned forward and grabbed her shoulder area to keep myself from falling off and being trampled by the other hundred minorly spooked cows.

So she ran for about 20 seconds and then slowed to a trot which was great, however at some point in the commotion my boss saw me while she was cleaning out the barn with the skid loader.

Suddenly I see this 5'4 badass 125 lbs woman swing the loader around and drive the very short distance from the barn to the yard and (while visibly awed) screamed "you ... you get off of that cow right now!!! To which I responded with something along the lines of "wanna race?"

Well, she (although amused) wasn't having it, so I jumped off and we both resumed our duties.
Fast forward about 3 minutes and I'm standing by the fence again and #239 comes charging at me which was fucking horrifying.

I try to step back onto the fence but she was hauling ass and would have straight up crushed me to death if she didn't suddenly come to a halt about a foot away from me. She then slowly walks up to me and lowers her head signaling she wants head and back scratches... I, of course, obliged since I just rode her.

Eventually I tried to walk away and she just followed me so I kept scratching and mumbling "you're such a good cow, yeah you're such a homie."

When it's time to get the other cows into the barn I stop scratching her and start walking away, she then proceeded to run back to that same spot along the fence and stand diagonally just like she was when jumped on.... she wanted me to do it again... she loved it. It was hilarious.

Well I had to get all the cows back inside and she was one of the last ones (still standing there) so I went and gave her more scratches and then pushed her away from the fence ... she ran right back.
I would have loved to ride her again since we both apparently had fun but I knew that if I did I would be fired.

Eventually my boss came running and yelling since she was now the only cow not back into the barn and #239, afraid, booked it back into the barn with the rest of the cows.
That cow absolutely loved me after that but unfortunately I was only employed there for about another month before I began work elsewhere.

That's the story of when I rode a cow I hope you enjoyed. #239 was a straight up homie. I also tamed a pigeon once while working there but that's a story for another time.

Username: Dat-onehomie

I have over 30 different medical conditions.
I take over 50 pills a day.
I have had over 20 surgeries, and the majority of them were either botched by the surgeon or had complications.

I was paralyzed, permanently, through my lower body, as a result of the botches.
The Dr. said the feeling/movement would come back, and my dumb ass believed him until it was way too late to sue.
He doesn’t work as a surgeon at all anymore, because he screwed up a bunch of other people too.

I have an IV line called a PICC, that runs through a vein, to my heart, and constantly administer my own IV therapies and antibiotics.

I do weekly treatments where I stick groups of needles deep into me and use a pump to push in immunoglobulin (antibodies). My thighs or belly look like a balloon afterwards. It hurts like hell and makes me feel sick.

I spent most of the last year in the hospital. I have stopped breathing/gone into respiratory failure multiple times and been revived, and I have died and been revived.

I’m still alive!
I have not (yet) needed to go to the ER since the pandemic began, despite slowly becoming sicker as many of my normal tests, treatments, and appointments are being cancelled.

I can’t get the things I need to stay as healthy as I can, and alive, for long, though. I can’t go without care forever and still be ok.
I pray (to the Universe) that I will still be alive and functioning in 8 weeks, and not fighting for my life.

I have lost count of the amount of times I have fought my way back from “the brink”.
They even removed all my teeth, as I was getting constant oral, facial and lung infections, and the combo of genetics, disease, and medication had ruined them.

I have lost my hair, from the diseases, stress, and medications.
Most of the time, I’m not contagious. But people treat me like I am because I always have a mask, oxygen, and a wheelchair.

I love basically anyone who shows me even the tiniest amount of kindness. That’s all I need to be your forever friend.
I would, and have, given my last dollar, or the only food I have, to someone that seemed like they needed it more. I often get screwed over for it, and for the sentence above.

I work more hours taking care of myself and my illness, than I did when I was in college & working 2 jobs. You never get a day, or an hour, or even a minute “off”, from being sick, and everything you have to do.

This is only a fraction of what I have survived in my life. It’s the longest and the hardest situation but there have been a lot of hard ones. I am also an abuse/trauma survivor.

This sounds like the worst shit post ever. Like I took 8 people’s lives and smooshed them into one. But I guess that was the point. There’s a reason I don’t share all my problems in one post.

Sometimes even I don’t understand how my life is real. It doesn’t seem like it should be possible for lightening to strike over...and over.

I’m only 33. And I genuinely wish you all health, safety, peace, and love. ✌🏻💜😸 (And kitties. Lots of kitties. They make everything better.)

Username: LEGOmaniac66

When I was little, I was very religious. It kind of stumped my parents. We identified as catholic and attended church most Sundays, but religion was not a major fixture in our home by any means. My dad thought it was kind of weird but was definitely somewhat please by it; he's Puerto Rican and was raised in a very religious home.

(If I remember correctly I think he even considered becoming a priest for a short while in his teens. He was always more religious than my mother or anyone else in the family but again, at this point in his life not particularly so.)

I remember learning about divine visions one week at church, and I was completely fascinated with the idea. I asked my dad about it for weeks. In my head I could picture clearly exactly what the visions we learned about (Mary in a field, some other ones I can't remember) looked like.

For some reason I was really fixated on the visions, maybe because for me it was proof that our religion was real. What really struck me was our pastor saying that these people were vessels for God's message. I thought they were so lucky to be touched by God.

I prayed every night (unlike everyone else in my family), and once I decided to offer myself as a vessel. I told God that if he wanted me to serve as a way to deliver His messages, I was ready and willing to be that for Him. I was, I think, seven at the time.

Shortly after, I started having really weird dreams. There was one night in particular that really stuck out. I remember having this weird sensation falling asleep, feeling particularly heavy and slow. I remember seeing a lot of fog, and then that fog gradually clearing to show the image of an angel. This wasn't a live, moving angel; rather, it was the engraving of an angel's image in something that looked like tin.

It was colored and a 3-dimensional engraving, and it was really beautiful. As I stared at it, this voice started speaking very slowly. It was a woman's voice, and it was peaceful but in kind of a creepy way, a little bit like an automated operator voice you'd hear on the telephone.

She spoke slowly to me: "Kaymo305, it is very important that you listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. This is a message from God and He needs you to remember it very carefully."

Suddenly I was overcome with fear, and I started crying and shaking my head and begging "no, no, not me, please, not me" over and over again. The voice kept speaking but I kept pleading louder to drown her out, and the picture of the angel became foggy again.

Eventually I woke up to my mom over my bed, she had come into my room after hearing me crying and very distressed in my sleep to wake me up, thinking I was having a nightmare.

That dream really spooked me, and for a few months afterwards I had really persistent insomnia. I was afraid to go to sleep because I thought I would have that dream again. I even saw it a few more times as I was falling asleep, but I always freaked out and yelled until I woke myself up before the voice could start again.

My mom was really confused about why suddenly I, who had always been an easy sleeper, would be staying up until two in the morning brimming with anxiety. I remember crying in bed one night as she tucked me in saying I was afraid to go to sleep, and she asked me why, and I explained the dream to her.

She was definitely freaked out, but told me it was just a dream and that I was imagining the whole thing, that God wasn't trying to tell me anything.

Eventually the dreams stopped and I forgot about them for a while. After a few years my fixation on religion ended; I never got confirmed and I'm agnostic now.

Username: Kaymo305

Ok, SO this story is long...but AWESOME. It is the Ballad Of "DEATH POOP"...
In the Mid 90's I worked at a video game arcade. I worked the day shift so mostly- I just watched the place and read books. We were next to a laundry mat and occasionally some one would come in looking for change or really shitty Pizza (that is a joke that will be made funny later...wait for it).

My only regular customers were a gang of punk rocker stoners who partied in the woods out back. They were cool people and I hung out with them on a few occasions, dropping acid on the railroad tracks and other stuff.

Their "Leader" was a homeless dude named Nate Davis. cool guy but he had that faulty pseudo-smartness that only a homeless drug addict who smelled of B O and wood smoke could pull off. Anyway- These guys would come in, and I would purposely "burn" pizza for them- in return...free drugs and they didn't mess with the Jr High kids at night.

When you picture Nate...Imagine that Cosmo Kramer (from Seinfeld) took over the body from the dude from last man on earth and he wore flannel. lots of smelly flannel.

Anyway...A small man (petite even) comes into the arcade in a trench coat. I sort of remember a fedora....but I'm not sure. He plays 1 game of Ms. Pac-man and I don't notice him again. He was probably 5'2" 90 lbs. He was the only customer on the day....of the incident.

Nate and his crew arrived as usual, on a HOT and muggy June afternoon. The sky was clear and the world was happy...

Nate came running in to see me in the kitchen...JEREMY!!! I NEED GUM, PAPER AND A MARKER NOW!!!!!! I freaked out a bit, asked him why and he said he would explain later. I obliged.

He took the gum and started chewing and ran to the restroom. Something was about to happen and I didn't want to miss...so I followed. (trust me, you wouldn't want to miss it either)

He blocked the door and stuck the chewing gum on it. then stuck a crudely drawn sign to the door right on the gum (no idea why he didn't use tape).
" SEE THE AMAZING DEATH POOP!..5 cents"
I gave him a nickel.

The restroom was about as clean as you could imagine. I got bored and cleaned it every day. but as the door was opened the smell of death and garlic shit assaulted me. not just my nose...my entire being. but the sound...like angels praising their shit covered lord filled my ears...as I gazed upon the Death Poop.

If you aren't familiar with Metallica "Metal up your ASS" google it now. Image if you will a public restroom painted a red orange color. graffiti covers the walls, the sink is minimalist and the toilet is shiny porcelain. but rising from the toilet is the biggest turd you have ever seen. its like the space worm that eats the millennium falcon. Its like mount Doom rising over Mordor. It's really , really big.

I gasped in disbelief and entered , Nate never left my side. I went to flush and he warned me away.
I tried anyway. the waters rose around the monolith- but luckily didn't breach. The erosion from the flush had no real impact on the integrity of the sky-scraping shit tower. it rose about 6 inches above the bowl.

Six inches. it had the girth of a big French bread. and it descended deep into the plumbing below. I look at the pitiful plunger in the corner. and decided I was not paid enough to clean this up. So, I burned a pizza.

At 5pm, I went home and the night guy showed up. He got to deal with the poo and was the kind of shmuck who thought that working night shift at an arcade gave him power.

The next day the poo was gone, and the punks didn't want burned pizza. they explained that they fished out the "brown trout" with a garbage bag and weighed it on the pizza scale. It weighed 8 1/2 lbs. it was the weight of a good sized baby. rather then throw it away, they placed it on the cement so we could watch it shrink in the summer sun. It lasted until September.

I never saw the man who I believe to be the father of Death Poop again. but I hope that somewhere...he is eating a better diet.

Username: Ethandrul

In college, my roommate, Alex and our buddy Haden went to a party. This was the middle of the winter, and the party was probably 2 miles away from our place. Haden drove. Because there was snow on the ground we naturally took our shoes off as soon as we came in.

Party was awesome, I met one of my best friends there, we were having such a blast, that when Haden said he was heading out, me and Alex said we'd be fine, we could walk home, or stay there for the night.

We got pretty drunk and at some point Alex said we should walk home, don't know why I agreed, but I did, in retrospect we should have just stayed at the party.

Anyway, as we're leaving, I can't find my shoes, I'm looking over every individual pair of shoes, and none of them are mine. I see some guy in the den wearing shoes that look similar to mine, and I drunkenly go up to him, and ask, "Are those my shoes?"

He's like "No.. I haven't taken my shoes off since I got here..." I realized that makes total sense and the design was just slightly different, but they were pretty much the same.

Anyway, I'm so drunk and agreeing that we should go at this point, that I say, I'll be fine in just my socks. People are asking if I'm sure, and I'm like, yeah no problem, don't worry about it. Alex takes the lead and we leave.

Immediately, my socks get soaked by the snow on the ground, and it is cold, though I drunkenly don't realize this. As we walk, Alex, says he knows a shortcut, and we find ourselves walking on train tracks.

Alex notices I'm not doing so great, so he gives me a piggy back ride for a ways, but then has to set me down as he's too tired. I walk for a distance, he regains his strength and gives me a piggy back ride again, we repeat this a few times.

Somewhere throughout this journey, I say, "What if a train were to come?" This was at like 3 AM mind you. He says, "There is no way a train is going to come." At this point I'm on the ground again walking beside him.

It can't be a minute later when I see 2 lights coming at us from ahead, and fast. I'm like "Dude!" And push him off the tracks while I follow, maybe 10 seconds later the train passes.

We quickly get off the beaten path and find ourselves in front of a closed strip mall. Feeling defeated, Alex, calls his brother, wakes him up and pisses him off and asks if he can give us a ride home.

As we wait for his brother, Alex, puts my feet under his hoodie to keep them warm. Eventually his brother picks us up, we get home and miraculously, I don't have frostbite on my feet at all. I like to think that we saved each other that night, he saved me from frostbite, I saved him from getting ran over from the train.

But here is the best part. The next day, Alex and I are on the couch playing Smash, when Alex gets a call from Hayden. He asks Alex, "Hey, have you seen my shoes?

I accidentally put on someone else's last night when I was leaving and took them home." I don't know if that's irony or what, but I think its an insane yet kind of awesome story.

Username: MikeDubbz

I got fired from a sales position for fraud related charges then the police came to my house the next day but..... In a nutshell, I was issuing multiple discounts and promotions to one specific account that I owned in order to test things before presenting or selling them to customers.

I did it because I wanted to really know what the customers should expect when I set them up with a service and I thought it would give me an edge over competition because I would know exact numbers not just good estimations.

Although it seemed like a forward thinking idea and I was never worried about negative consequences, on the accounting side of things they saw one account that was not only getting service for free but, had I closed the account, the system would have cut me a check for the amount I had "overpaid" due to the multiple promotions and discount codes I had put on the account. It wasn't a ton of money but over three months I had accrued just under $2000 of "overpayment".

I got called into a meeting with the owner, VP of sales and Christine from accounting where they told me corporate has found a situation involving you and an account they believe you own and they are ready to press fraud related charges against you. I tried to explain but being a retailer and not a corporate location I had no chance of talking my way out of it.

Fast forward, clean out desk and cubicle, walk of shame while everyone stares in silence, awkward "keep your head up you're a great salesperson and this is not the end for you" conversation from owner in the parking lot.

The next morning at 10 am I'm standing in my kitchen having gotten zero sleep because I was so worried about the possibility and ramifications of the charges and a police officer knocks on the door.

My balls shriveled up so tight I could taste them and my only thought which I could barely hear over my heart racing is "what do you wear to jail?

I should wear jeans and a belt so it's harder for people to do shit to me, this is crazy! This is really happening!!". So I walk to and open the door hoping he'll let me change before he cuffs me and I say "Hi, what's up?"

He says, "Hello sir sorry to bother you this morning but is that your white Cadillac sitting next to the garage over there?"

(The house I was renting had a second driveway next to the garage and my roommates car was in the garage) I say "yeah it is" he says, "alright, well it was vandalized last night and someone marked it all over with pink spray paint could you come out here and we'll fill out an incident report?".

So I walk over and sure enough there's a pink dick sprayed on my hood and some shitty graffiti across the sides and trunk. One of the scariest moments of my life broken up by a pink spray painted dick.

The company later decided to believe me and not file charges. They offered me my position back but I had already found another career. Craziness.

Username: RustScientist

Im from Nevada, and in Junior year of highschool Joe Biden was coming to speak to the student body.

About a week before, I was pulled out of my AP Government class by the school administration, and my first thought was I was going to get searched for drugs, which made sense considering my bad habits and dreadlocked demeanor.

As soon as the dean and I stepped out of the door I said "Oh thank god, I have to pee so bad and Mr. X wouldn't let me leave class!", and so I dipped into the bathroom where I proceeded to swallow the five (nonprescription) adderall in my pocket out of panic.

I get brought down to the police office, triumphantly smiling since I knew they wouldn't find anything on me. I sat there for almost an hour, and no one told me why I was there, they only took my phone and told me to wait.

At this point I'm starting to sweat pretty heavily, and I'm getting overwhelmingly restless due to the excessive amphetamine salts coursing through my blood.

Finally, two men in sharp tailored suits come in and identify themselves as THE FUCKING SECRET SERVICE, lock the door behind them, and the interrogation began.

They asked me where I was born, if I was a citizen, if my parents were citizens, if they were ever associated with any political dissidents, had they ever been arrested for civil unrest, etc. They then got really aggressive, and I sat there perplexed as they demanded to know if I'd read any Karl Marx or had any excessive experience with psychedelic drugs.

I said yes, I've read the communist manifesto (noting they literally pulled me out of an advanced placement government class) and I was an avid psilocybin and LSD advocate. The shot each-other a concerned look, and then left the room without a word, LOCKING ME INSIDE FOR ALMOST THREE HOURS.

When they came back I was virtually delusional and incapacitated by the combined drugs and utter anxiety of the situation - and at this point, after locking sixteen year old me in a back office without contact to my parents well after school was out, they decide to tell me that they received an anonymous tip about me THREATENING TO ASSASSINATE THE VICE PRESIDENT and they were taking it very seriously after "interviewing" me.

They handed me some paper that they forced me to sign, saying that if I didn't, Id be taken to a juvenile detention center out in the desert and held until I was put on fucking trial. I was suspended for two weeks, and now im on a terror watch list.

All of this because in that same government class, I asked a harmless question wondering how they managed to secure the gym for Biden to speak.

From my understanding, it seemed like a security issue, considering my town (not far from the bundy ranch stand off) was extremely anti Obama, and the gym had innumerable entrances and exists.

Username: [deleted]

The Da Vinci Code book had just come out. I had just turned 14. was taking a trip to Europe with my uncle and extended family.

I bought the book at a magazine stand before boarding our flight to England. I read the book nonstop till we got to Paris. I had my backpack with my SLR camera, water bottle, and book inside.

We make it to the Louvre and it's amazing. My aunt wants to see the Venus exhibit. We make it there, and I walk forward to the sign to confirm that it is the Venus exhibit. I think she thought it was going to be on the planet (-.-') rather than the deity. I turn around and they're gone.

"Great...I'm lost in the Louvre...this is fantastic!" I'm not really one to observe artwork with others. I like being alone in my contemplation. So I take this opportunity to walk the exhibits..get underwhelmed by the Mona Lisa, explore every exhibit I could in the limited time I had.

After I saw it all, I went to the information desk, telling the curator that I'm lost. She says in broken English, to sit behind the information desk. She asks me if I have anything to keep myself busy, and I pull out the book. She didn't see what book it was.

Time goes by, and the announcement comes over the speakers that the Louvre was closing. I was so engrossed in the book that I barely heard it.

Spoiler Ahead: I finished reading the book looking at the inverted pyramid across from the information desk, which is the last part of the book.

Literally at the location that the book completed its story. It was so surreal that I made some sort of noise that caught the attention of the curator. She asked if my family stayed close by; we were staying in Hotel Louvre, so I wasn't worried.

She sees that I read The Da Vinci Code and was excited, as she said that it was banned by Interpol at the time. I ask her if she wants it since I just finished it. She was so surprised that, as a thank you, she told me to follower her for a behind the scenes tour of the museum.

She takes me through Employee Only doors and shows off curator offices, where one gentleman was polishing what I could only assume was some of the French Crown Jewels, who's exhibit was under construction at the time.

She bought me a coke and a book about the Louvre and walked me to the courtyard across from the Louvre and my hotel. I thanked her and said my goodbyes.

Crossing the courtyard, I get stopped by two street artists who insist on drawing me. They then ask for money and when I said I don't have any, they gave me the drawings anyway.

I get back into the hotel room and about 15 minutes later, my family shows up. They said they went to dinner and assumed I would have shown up and went looking for me.

I told them what just happened and their jaws hit the floor. We still talk about it every time Europe is brought up. I haven't been back to Europe since, but I can't wait to go.

Username: fosh1zzle

One time like 10 years ago, we took a Christmas trip in a stormy period where they kept getting these blizzards and decided to go skiing anyway when it was a pretty calm day.

We are from Miami and pretty freaking clueless about snow in general. I got tired of the bunny hills and decided to go up the lift.

Not sure if I missed something, but it took me all the way up to the summit of the mountain and I literally fell off into deep snow and blizzard-like conditions (don't know if there is an official meaning of "blizzard", but it was powerfully windy and snowing copiously-- is extreme weather only at the top of a mountain a thing? Because it wasn't that bad at the bottom).

All the gear scattered around and I couldn't find it at first. I was poorly equipped, with no goggles and just simple knit gloves and beanie.

My face immediately froze (literally, I couldn't feel it), I could barely see, and the hat and gloves also froze and became hard as rocks.

I looked up and saw a tiny snow patrol lodge perched at the very tippy top of the mountain. Looked like something out of a Disney movie, with nothing but the white sky behind it.

Anyway I climbed up to it and opened the door; all the rangers turned and looked at me strangely; it was awkward. No one was skiing up there right now, they said.

They let me warm up at the heater. They offered to take me down in a snowmobile, but that sounded so embarrassing to me-- there's only one other way down! I went outside again and wow was it bad...

You could barely even see where to ski. Immediate regret, too cold too wet! But how dumb would I look to those rangers if I show up again?! Shuffled to the sign.

Double black diamond. I had only ski'd like... 3 times ever... The slope dropped off sharply. I would never do this today, but I went over the edge. It was all curves and more curves and instant death ledges if you didn't navigate them right.

I mean it was me, some snow, and then the tops of evergreens in a black void. The snow hitting my face the whole time felt like needles of fire. Not a soul was up there, but once I got low enough, wow, were the views amazing.

You could see the curvature of the earth and all the white topography... I made it down without falling one time. Took me a solid hour to do it, and my family had been totally freaked out thinking I was missing in the wild or whatever.

My sister was just laughing at how insane I looked and sounded-- I was so frozen, I could hardly talk.

She took this picture right when I got down, and I always laugh because I was so happy, like I just triumphantly broke the record for swimming the English Channel, or something.

Username: MaddieEsquire

My wife and I are in the process of refinancing our mortgage. Last night, the notary came to our house to have us sign and initial the 876 documents you have to sign when refinancing.

We told him about how we're starting a business, and he told this story about when he owned a small business and how you have to fight for what's yours and not let yourself get screwed over in commercial deals. It went something like this (* him narrating *).

*I set up this deal that someone brought to me, basically selling an apartment building. It was pretty easy, and I was supposed to make $5,000 commission after turning over to the bank. I was young, didn't have much money, had two kids, and it was right before Christmas. This was to be my Christmas money.

So I go to the bank and am standing in the banker's office and asked for my money. He basically said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but we're not going to pay you." I said, "What do you mean?" and he explained how they reconsidered and decided I wasn't necessary for negotiating the deal so they weren't going to pay me.

I asked how they thought that, seeing as I did all the legwork and brought them the opportunity, but the guy just said they weren't going to pay me.

Now, I'm from Harlem, and that answer wasn't acceptable to me. I walked out of the bank to my car and got a wooden baseball bat from the trunk. I walked back into that banker's office and said, "You're going to give me that check, and I'm walking out of here with $5,000."

The banker asked what I was going to do about it, and I waived the bat in front of him. He asked what I thought I was going to do with that. I said, "If you don't give me the money, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life."

The banker said I wouldn't get away with it, that he would sue the crap out of me, and I'd spend a lot of time in jail. I just looked at him and said, "Yeah, but you still won't ever be able to walk again."

He saw that I was dead serious, wrote me a check for $5,000, and I walked straight to a teller, bat still in my hand, cashed that baby and walked out with $5,000 cash.

Now, I didn't tell anyone about that for 15 years because I was afraid of it coming up and getting into legal trouble for robbing a bank. But then I talked to someone about it, and they said I didn't rob anything - the guy was just trying to rip me off, didn't have a case, and would have gotten in trouble if he didn't pay me. I was just getting what I was owed.*

I have no idea if this story was true, but dammit, it was fascinating. The guy is pretty big and looks like he could be intimidating if he wanted to be.

I don't know about not committing any crime, pretty sure that was extortion, but it was still a helluva story that made me sign and initial anywhere he told me to.

Username: beardo_musacho

My husband has been on the news 4 times in 3 different states. First time was when the contractor that installed the A/C unit in the house we bought came by trying to repossess it as he hadn’t been paid.

We called the news and they did an investigative story on it. We weren’t the only ones it happened to and some home owners had let them take theirs. That was in north Texas.

Second time was after an employee at a manufacturing plant he ran was hit by a random bullet shot by some kids playing in a field with a gun hundreds and hundreds of yards away. It was the kid’s third day on the job, 19 years old and just working there for the summer before he went into the national guard.

His uncle worked for my husband and was standing there when it happened. They were talking outside when the kid just collapsed to the ground. They had no idea what happened. He survived but was paralyzed. He checked out of life a few years later. It was horribly sad.

Third time was for a ticket we received on a car that had been parked in front of our house for 9 months as it needed transmission work.

It was ticketed for being in a bus zone in New Orleans 45 minutes away. The license plate was correct, but the make, model and color were incorrect.

We called the news AGAIN and they did another investigative report that discovered others with the same issue. A few cops were trying to make their quota.

The FOURTH time we were vending at a HUGE Christmas craft show in Salt Lake City we had travelled from Montana for. We both had family down there, too, that we visited. I had grown up there.

They did a spot on the morning news and aired it again on the noon news. One of the organizers knew us from a previous show in Colorado the week before and suggested that our booth be one of the three they spotlighted since our products were unique and all handmade by us.

You would think that would’ve helped sales, right?? Nope. The majority of 100’s of vendors barely made any money even though 28k+ people attended. Many didn’t even make enough to cover the expensive booth cost let alone travel expenses such as gas, hotels, food.

We, at least, had made some money in Colorado which, along with staying with family instead of in a hotel, paid for our travel expenses plus a little.

We still were in the hole due to the money and time we had spent on inventory for a show that should have made us thousands and thousands of dollars just by sheer volume of people.

It was very disheartening. The organizers had many people absolutely livid at them, some leaving in the middle of the show instead of staying the whole 3 days.

For many, like ourselves, it was our first experience with that show and those organizers. It would also be the last.

Username: geniusintx

A part of my stomach went into my outie bellybutton when I was 11, I only noticed when my bellybutton grew and grew until I kneeled over one day in excruciating pain.

I had to be rushed into hospital and ended up having an operation. I've got an "normal" belly button now. Also my bro almost went missing in a different country so... There's that...

We were on our way to the hotel when my parents wanted to stop by a grocery store to get some food, so while they were shopping they sent me to keep watch of my bro. Now I had not slept until 3:00am only to be woken up at 5:00am for a 4ish hour flight. I didn't even get sleep on the plane.

I was knackered. So thinking that everything was fine I was out like a light bulb, dead as a log, gone to world or whatever clique metaphor you want to use. Point is I was fast asleep.

I think I was asleep for around 30 minutes when I was suddenly shaken awake by my two parents. My bro was long gone and his seat was empty. I swear I felt my heart sink when I found out he was missing, even though he was 12 at the time he had mental disabilities meaning he had the mind of a 2 year old.

So if he was lost he'd have no way of communicating with others, not to mention that people could easily take an advantage of him.

My parents were both worried and livid. My mother blamed my dad for not locking the door and my dad blamed me, saying that I just "let him leave" on purpose. It was a pretty emotionally charged situation

So we fractically searched high and low and we still couldn't find him. My mum was tearing up at this point and I was seriously getting worried.

After about 15 minutes we finally found him sitting by where the road turned with a few guys who were cooking up a barbecue. He grinned at us and waved, I wanted to both punch the shit-eating grin off his face and hug him. (Gosh darn idiot)

Turns out he had made some new friends. He was wandering around the place and spotted the two guys grilling some chicken, he walked up to them and the guys realizing that my bro didn't have any carer in sight basically, bribed him into sitting down and staying with them for a free meal until someone arrived.

If no one came they said they would have called the authorities. My bro is a sucker for food so this tatic worked amazingly.

The guys were super friendly and found the whole situation amusing to say the least. We chatted with them for a bit and they gave my bro some traditional candy.

So we walked back into the car with my bro happily munching on candy, my mum wiping off with remainder of her tears while laughing and my dad trying to be mad but failing.

It was a good start to the clusterfuck that was my holiday.

Username: NeonCamoflage

My brother and I have been or witnessed a number of events by mere coincidence which when taken as a whole seem like bs.

My mother was a nurse and was assigned to care for an executive of a local TV station, WAPA tv in Puerto Rico.

In gratitude, he had them not only give us a personal tour of the station but to have us as guests in the afternoon's kid show and we end up being interviewed on TV that day. Stay with me.

A few years later we are hanging out at work with mom at the hospital. By pure chance, we happend to walking outside the ER when a car pulls up and we watch this dude get carried in by some other dudes.

That was the famous Carl Walenda, a tightrope walker who on that day fell to his death after a lifetime of death defying acts around the world. Sometime later, my school class does a field trip to the competing TV station in town, Canal 2.

We all get put before the camera to compete against another school in the afternoon kid's show which was more game like. I get called at random to play match the shapes to the holes and win by about half a second against the clock.

Here is my ugly mug on the screen again accepting a grab bag of toys as winning price and I look shell shocked. Fast forward a few years. My brother submits for a raffle to the OTHER TV station.

If you win, you get a BMX bike and you get to be in a show with it. He wins and ends up once again on TV on that same channel we where interviewed in before as an extra ridding his brand new bike along a whole bunch of kids who also won.

Come high school and my class gets invited to be in another play off against another high school in a different show on that same station. Different school altogether. Here I am once again on TV except you can barely see me this time.

Years later I'm walking out of class at UCF in Orlando, Florida. I notice people at random gazing up at the sky. There's this funny looking cloud. Looks like a rocket launch from Cape Canaveral. I get to the apartment.

Roommate asks if I saw the space shuttle blow up. I tell him they don't blow up, they separate from the boosters.

He says no blow up and turns on the TV where they keep showing the Challenger exploding again and again every two minutes. Now it gets darker.

Fast forward a few decades and my brother witnesses the second airplane hit the second tower on 9/11 with his naked eyes from the roof of the building he worked at in mid town Manhattan. He watched until the first tower fell, then bailed out as fast as he could.

Didn't get home until 7 that evening. My mother, him and I had been on the roof of the WTC during the Christmas break in 2000, a little more than a year before. We're kinda like Forrest Gump.

Username: f0k4ppl3

My Mum bought me a BB Gun, and after firing them everywhere for weeks they'd end up in *all over the place*.

It got to the point where my Mum was so annoyed at me not picking them up, I must have shot about 2000 and just left them, (annoying kid!), all over the place, and she said if she saw one more on the floor she would take the gun away from me. She was deadly serious too.

Fast forward to the next day, and I'm shooting in the living room at targets like the wall and the floor, and I hear her coming into the room and I realise there are BBs everywhere.

I scramble to pick them all up, think I've got them all, (luckily there was only about 5 that I had shot), and just as I hear her coming down the hall to open the door of the room I'm in, I see two right next to each other on the floor where she'd walk in. I knew she'd see it.

I knew she'd see it, be tired of me leaving them everywhere, and take my favourite thing in the world off me (which she wouldn't of really, but a threats a threat when you're 10). I think fast and realise I have one option, I have to shoot the BBs on the floor to make them all fly away.

Problem is, I know I only have 1 BB left in the gun and if I miss, which I will, there'll be 3 BBs on the floor with one bouncing around still as my mum *walks* right into the line of fire.

I decide to take the chance, and in a split second bring the gun up, don't aim, and just fire at the BBs on the floor.

*and the fucking shot hits both of them, separating them so none of them are on the floor anymore.*

I have no idea where they've gone, but I have just lined up an instant shot from about 6 foot away and split 2 BBs that were on a wooden floor.

My Mum comes in, asked me why my jaw is on the floor; I can't tell her, or she'll know I'm shooting in the house again.

I just tell her "what? It's just me face." and run passed her, upstairs, and dance around on my bed, amazed at what I had just achieved.

2 days later I tried it again and ended up getting the gun taken off me when my Mum came in to 5 BBs (I had lined up 4 in a row because I was feeling cocky) on the floor, 4 still in a row and 1 bouncing round in front of her.

She took it for about an hour but I learn my lesson, and have never shot in the house, or had a shot anywhere near as epic as that ever again in my life.

Username: JofusSunshyne

My whole life from **14** until now.
I moved in with dad, and his partner, her junkie kids would bully me with weapons- knives, shotgun, razors, cut my hair, spike food with speed LSD weed, force me to smoke 1oz joints and drink brandy.

Step brother crashed stolen car into post office. I watered their pot plants while they were in prison. Left school and rowed a boat to orchards up the river to work.

**15-16**
Ran away, trailer park trash for 6-9 months, drinking a 750ml of Jim Beam most weeks on pay day, smoking an ounce of weed every month, cigarettes were cheap then too. I hunted kangaroos with a professional, sold kangaroo testicle pouches to tourists, sold some weed to local kids, once held an ounce of speed.

Next door neighbour watched a girl until 16yo, started banging her (legal age), tried suicide, then they ran away- her dad was town mayor.

Meanwhile I moved to the back of the local pub, became great at billiards/pool at the local pub, and started to shark people and enter competitions in neighbouring towns.

Riverboat (touristy thing) stopped in town every two weeks, I boned one of staff, got some free trips around the area as a result.

Friends and I burgled a sports club for booze and smokes, I was a bad kid trying to get by after life had turned shit. I ended up homeless, step brothers were getting me to shoot them up with speed and heroin, would pass out in my room for hours.

Hunting, fishing, camping, weed and alcohol, arcade games and swimming, sleeping with cockroaches crawling on my skin, eating very little and not doing so well.

One step brother is now dead, after years in a wheelchair from stroke after drug abuse he finally OD'd. Other was going mentally ill a lot with drug abuse and in and out of jail.

**16-18** Back to mother's country, I studied deep sea fishing and worked boats- trawlers, longliners, and gamefishing (fun stuff!). Hated it in general, spent a few years unemployed and depressed in a kind of half-way-house / backpacker hostel for dropkicks. Actually depressed, thinking it's time to end it all.

Got kicked out and moved to a new place, met a Japanese girl, fell in love. Sex like rabbits, 18 times in 24 hours once. She's psycho. Chases me around with a box-cutter/stanley knife because I blew in her mouth without warning, held it to my throat and I could see her seriously considering to end me. First love, I forgave her, she later stabs me when someone told her I accidentally cockblocked him as his love interest had fallen for me. I forgave her again, she tried to bash my brains in while I slept.

**19-21**
Forgiven again, she pashes another guy on the dance-floor of the club at my 20th birthday bash (legal to drink). It's officially over, I stop working for a while, depressed, pissing up every night, identity crisis and start experimenting sexually, not too crazy, learned a lot about myself and started on path of pure sexual deviance.

Started working in hospitality. Prostitute girlfriends, dozens of foreign tourists, schoolgirls, bar staff, random women in the street, fiances, girlfriends of others, virgins, you name it, I was putting my dick in it and loving it. I was also drunk all the time.

Partying until the sun came up, going to work, then doing it again. 21st birthday, crazy ex shows up and gets wasted, runs around naked, tries to kill self. I ignored her. It's over for good.

**22-24**
Came to a head at late 21, went to Japan for three months to detox at the expense of a nice Japanese girl who thought she could change me. Silly girl. Came back, travelled around the country working hospo, trying to change my life for the better but still a drunk and a womaniser.

Serious girl for two years, smoking hot, great fucking. Moved on and womanising again like mad. Changed job to public transport. Studied language teaching. So - many - women...

**25-27** Still partying up, still screwing around, running a small tourist business and screwing half my clients, literally. Life is good, I have a hundred people looking up to me, I'm in the best shape of my life, I've landed a new job and had a big pay rise, and women want me faster than I can wash and dry my sheets. Found a good one and got serious about 27, way out of my league.

**28-35** Got into IT around the start of this period. Got drunk a lot. Gotta quit some day. Way too much a lot. It's holding me back. Lost the girl, didn't care until later. Went to Thailand, partied mad, and fucked lots of prostitutes. Some wild times were had.

Came back, life getting me down. Not so young, not so hot, future job and women prospects not looking so good, made a bad career choice. Got back into smoking pot again after many years off it. Passed over for promotions, job gave me a disability that made it hard to sell myself to employers and wrecked my confidence.

Got lucky and met a lovely girl. Best for me that I have met yet, I can't fuck this one up. Gave up pot, started a business, didn't work out. Gave up drinking and smoking.

Just passed 6 months totally clean. Feeling like I need to make something of myself, out of IT, something easy and well paid. Learned some skills, going to start another business soon.

Username: gildme

Ok this might be worded weirdly because this is very stream-of-conciousness or else i wont be able to get it all out lol. In May 2013, I had to make a special trip to my college because I was able to add a piece of sculpture I made to a student art show.

After I was done at school, I headed to the subway to begin the trip back home to long Island. I was running down the stairs in the subway and when I got halfway down the second set of steps, I saw the train pull in to the station and I started to trip and managed to stumble the rest of the way down and then fell flat on my face.

As I fell, my wallet, which was still in my hand because I was in a hurry and trying to put away my metrocard since the train was close, flew out of my hands and down onto the tracks. I didn't see it fall down there, so I was frantically looking inside the train car, whose doors were open, until someone told me where they saw it fall.

I walked up the stairs to the booth and thank god an MTA person was actually inside and she told me to wait at the station down on the platform where the wallet fell, and it would be like maybe 30 minutes until someone could come get it for me.

I got down there and stood around for a few minutes, my mouth full of blood from the concrete ground cutting my gums directly above my top front tooth. I'm lucky not only that my nose and teeth didn't break, but that I got no infection of any kind from raw dogging my mucous membranes with the Hunter College 6 train subway station floors.

So im standing there waiting for the mta guys and this tall bald dude locks eyes with me and walks straight to me with purpose. I'm super dazed and off my usual distrust of people and say hi. Since he's walking towards me with a hand out, I reach mine out to shake his, thinking he's a friendly mta worker who is about to help me grab my wallet.

As he gets close he goes to hug me and I'm thrust back into reality. I realize this is a random guy with possible mental illness or something of a nature that breaks with the usual social contract that exists in polite society (yeah yeah, its new york, i know, don't nitpick me about this shit) and I immediately go back in time to my dad's self defense lessons from my childhood.

I wave his hands off and push him away. I'm pretty tall, but he's at least 6 feet tall and he's in good shape. A couple of women came over and asked if i was OK, which i was so grateful for.

They told me he started doing the same shit to other people on the platform as well. I then see him chasing someone so I walked my ass back upstairs and im just frazzled as hell. As I'm standing there I see that shiny bald head pop up and Mr. Wants-a-hug locks eyes with me again.

Now here's where the darker side of my dad's self defense training kicked in. He'd always told me to become a crazy person if I ever felt threatened because people don't want to deal with it. I'm a large, tall woman and I have a loud booming voice (thanks, singing background).

The adrenaline is rising within me and I know it's now or never: I need to scare this motherfucker away for good. I don't know what's wrong with him, but it's something and i don't want to deal with it.

I see a big, cylindrical, metal nyc subway trash can near me so I start to repeatedly beat it with my hands as hard as I possibly could, in rhythm with the loudest yell I could muster while maintaining locked eyes with the dude.

"I 🎵AM🎵 NOT 🎵THE 🎵ONE,🎵MOTHER🎵FUCKER". Blood is dripping out of my mouth and I'm covered in sweat as i yell and the banging of the trash can echoes through the station with a series of thunderous bellows. This man's eyes grew enormous and he spun himself around and RAN out of the station. It felt cartoon-like.

The only thing missing was a cloud of dust. He looked terrified and i knew my job was done. I felt the strangest mix of pride and pain from my mouth and now my hands.

In what couldn't have been better timing, the mta guys showed up, got my wallet for me, and I made my way to Penn Station and then to the long Island railroad. I rode my bike to the station that day and now that my hands were beaten to shit, I really needed a ride home.

I tried calling my mom several times to come get me but she never picked up and later on i found out she'd been outside the whole time. I rode the mile back to my house on my bike, balancing my wrists on the handles as much as I could.

I wound up developing huge black and blue bruises on my palms, but thankfully it was the worst of my injuries of the day. Not a day goes by when I'm walking down stairs that I don't think of that event. I've never fallen since.

Username: semi-trollkinda_life

About 5 years ago. I was Hitchhiking to get to a festival. I ended up in a small city in the Netherlands, 600km from home at midnight and about 200km from the place I wanted to go. Can't recommend that.

Looking for a place for the night I got robbed by a group of teens, nothing violent but disturbing. So I went into the city center. There where huge amounts of plastic cups, some drunken dudes and a stage. It looked like a huge party that suddenly stopped and everybody went home.

I found a police car with two officers, told them what happened and that 2 bags with all my shit got stolen. They didn't really believe me but took a dicription of my bags, my contact information and wished me fare well. Just like that: "Ok good night." Lol.

Bags contained my money, so for lack of a better idea I slept on that stage. Because it had a roof. Next day in the morning I was woken by a guy from the festival. I pick up 2 playlists from the stage, go to a store and play POI in front of it to earn some money for breakfast. It worked! 5€ in 20 minutes. I thought: "That's not so bad, I'll just earn 20€ for the train ticket and get there eventually. Let's make it an adventure.

The lokal lost and found didn't have any info on my bags, so 6 hours later playing POI - not 1 Cent. Tired and out of options I start crying in the city center. 2 students stop and ask me, what happened. I tell them, they take me to the train station, pay for my ticket. Never heard from them again.

So I get to the festival and spend 4 days there. No tent, no good. Somehow I made up a roleplay game with me being the protagonist. I used the songnames on the playlists as some sort of clues. "Follow the trees", "The lady in blue"... Something like that. I still have them somewhere haha.

So basically I was questing the whole time and I won't tell the weird shit that happened there. But I also knew some Dutch people from another festival, who let me work at their Chai-Shop and sleep in their bus. They. Are. The. Best! So I got some money and food as well.

I don't know, why I didn't cancel the trip in the first place because I still had my mobile phone and could just have turned around. I guess I was to embarrassed and really wanted to go to that festival. And it was beautiful.

Anyway, after the festival my girlfriend saved my ass, got me a bus ticket and so I finally got home. A week later the dutch police calls: "We have your bags, should we send them?" I couldn't believe it. "Sure, here is my address." Lol.

A week later: "Sorry, we can't send them. Can you come and pick them up?" Again - lol...😛 I didn't know at the time, but have a year before that my girlfriend was invited to a wedding a week later. And sure enough for whatever reason (the couple is from Germany and Georgia, eastern Europe) they married in that exact same city in the Netherlands.

We had no connection to that city before, we've never been there, nothing. So I tell her what the police said and she goes: "Well, I'm going to be there in 5 days. I can just pick them up for you." What are the odds?

So that's how I got back my shit. 120€ and the most awesome festival-clothes where gone, but the laptop was fine (I still have it) and a lot of other things to. Even got back my ID and Bank cards. I guess they where just teens pranking the shit out of me after all.

Bonus: I left my bike at the highway, when the journey started. Bike was stolen when I got there to pick it up. Insurance payed, but half a year later I get another call from the police: "We found your bike."

I go there, they cut open the lock, because it was twisted, I get on the bike and drive home. Just like that. I still have it as well. Obviously I call the insurance to tell them.

They laughed and said: "Let's forget you ever called." So basically now I have the money and the bike. Again - lol. Getting robbed was awesome 😎 I guess I'm out of luck though.

Username: a_person_just_like_u

Oh damn, buckle up! When I was 18, I was held at knifepoint in a graveyard by one of my best friends (M), who had DID (multiple personalities) and schizophrenia.

One of the personalities had decided they were going to kill one of the guys in our group (L) because he had cheated on his girlfriend (B), who was also in our friend group. L had then claimed he also had DID and one of his personalities had taken control to do the cheating.

L was 17 and the girl he cheated with was 13. They did hand stuff under clothes in a cinema.

M heard what happened over Skype video chat from another friend (G), flew into a rage, and the other personality took over. He told G that he "was going to go fucking murder L" before slamming the laptop lid shut, ending the call.

G lived in America, B in Wales, and the rest of us in England. M and L were in the same town and I was in the town next to them.

G tells B about the chat, who calls me because I have a car. She begs me to go to L's house because I could deal with M's personalities the best, and hopefully try to calm him down if/when he arrives. As I was driving there, I get a phone call from M (thank God for hands free calling). When I answered, he was sobbing.

M had regained control of the body and had woken up in one of the town's graveyards. He had no idea how he had gotten there and couldn't move his legs. I told him I was on the way and to call B so he had someone to talk to until I could get there.

Unfortunately, I had no idea where this graveyard was. So I drove to L's, told him to get in the fucking car, and got him to direct me. When we got there, he waited by the gate while I went to M. He begged me not to get any closer to him because he couldn't tell if I was real or not. I managed to convince him to put B on speaker so I could shout to her and she could tell him what I said and that I was real. It worked and I got over to him to hug him. When he had calmed down, he asked how I had found him as he knew he'd forgotten to give me directions. I stupidly said L had told me and gestured to the gate. L had starting making his way over after seeing me hug M, thinking the trouble was over.

When M saw L, he switched again. He pushed me down and pulled out M's penknife.

I managed to get back up and in between them before trying to calm down the personality. While I had met and befriended several of M's personalities in the past (and became Godmother to one) I had only ever heard of this one, never met. M never wanted me to because this was "the dangerous one". This one openly admitted he was going to kill L and told me to stand aside so L "could be judged", before pointing the knife at me.

I'm not proud of my solution. But I was scared for M, pissed at L, and worried my parents were going to bring me back to life to kill me themselves if I got stabbed and died here.

I basically told him there was no point killing L. If he did, L would no longer feel any suffering because he would be dead whereas M's body, and therefore this personality, would be placed either in jail or a psych ward, where they would have to suffer.

He burst out laughing before throwing the knife at my feet and collapsing, turning back into M. Once I had calmed him down again, I realised L had run off and there was no way of me getting M to my car. I ended up calling one of M's nearby friends, who came to us and we got M in the car, before I dropped them both off at his friend's house.

I made it home two minutes before my curfew, as it was a school night.

Username: NowWithMoreChocolate