Bimql chhetry.

In April, I got a cold. For weeks after, I had a horrible cough. I’d have coughing fits that would cause me to vomit, I’d be unable to laugh without coughing, it went on and on. But otherwise, I felt fine. This went on for over a month. Until the end of May. I went to work that week, coughed so hard I pulled the muscles in my ribcage, and left. I’d had asthma as a kid, hadn’t been making the healthiest choices lately, it was just catching up to me and all I needed to do was rest and change some habits. I woke up the next morning, felt like every joint in my body had made it their life mission to make me suffer. I don’t even own a thermometer but when I got into my car and the dash said it was 100 degrees and I was shivering in a sweatshirt, I knew I was in for it. I got cold and flu medicine, pedialyte, ate even though I had no appetite. This lasted for less than a day. I dragged myself to bed that night, an emergency OTC inhaler next to me because I hadn’t had a prescription in alm...

Okay so I have had three shroom trips with psilocybin mushrooms and all of them have been very bad experiences but have left me with major insights about myself, (hence why i continued to do them after the first time), Recently i discovered the term "ego death" and am curious if anyone can tell me if thats what I experienced or if anyones experience on psychedelics was similar to mine. Heres what occurred... Trip #1). The first time I did this me and my friend (we are going to call her A) decided to take 6 grams. Yes I know that this was a bad decision but prior to this i became really fascinated with psychedelic assisted therapy and I CONSTANTLY researched psychedelics AKA curiosity killed the cat. Anyways, after taking this heroic dose I began to feel this onset of anxiety like something wasn't right and I had made a mistake, about 30 minutes after taking these shrooms I began to feel as what I can only describe as being sucked into my own mind and my eyes were fo...

I thought she was just acting weird, at first. For some clarification, my girlfriend had been planning a trip to California for the last four months. Normally, I’d have gone with her, but it was for her grandmother’s birthday. She was old, and this could’ve quite possibly been my girlfriend’s last chance to take a trip with her. She had spent those four months meticulously planning, as she always did, and the week before the trip, she must’ve had at least five full bags packed for her week-long venture. “You can never be too careful,” she always told me. She was always the planning type. Mapping things out. Going over every possibility. It was one of the things I admired about her. She hated when things didn’t go the way they were supposed to. That’s why, on the day of her trip, when I woke up to find her still lying in bed with me long after her early morning flight, I almost panicked. I shook her awake frantically, and her eyes slowly rolled open. She groggily asked why I was waking...

So some backstory. My sister and I have never really been close, but we’re not enemies either. Typical sibling stuff growing up, nothing crazy. When she got engaged last year, I was genuinely happy for her. I offered to help pay for the flowers, drove four hours to help her try on dresses, the whole supportive-sister role. Fast forward to three weeks ago. I get a text, not a call, a text, that just says “hey, so, I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come to the wedding anymore.” I thought she was joking. I actually laughed and texted back “lol why.” She said, and I am quoting this exactly because I still have the messages, she said “you know how you are, everyone always says you’re the pretty one, and I don’t want that energy at my wedding, I want it to be about me.” I want to be really clear here. I didn’t ask to be “the pretty one.” I didn’t do anything at any family event to make it about me. This is a title that other people apparently gave me over ...

That’s not a joke. That’s not a typo. My future mother-in-law, Linda, sat me down at her kitchen table, slid a small box across to me, and said, “I just think it’s important… for everyone to know the truth before you say ‘I do.’” I laughed. I genuinely thought she was messing with me. But her face didn’t move. Not even a little. See, my fiancé, Caleb, has always looked… different from his dad. Darker hair, darker eyes, nothing like the rest of that blonde, blue-eyed family. It was a running joke at Thanksgiving. “Mailman’s kid,” his uncle used to say, laughing. Caleb laughed too. Nobody ever meant it. Except apparently, Linda did. She told me she’d “had suspicions for twenty-eight years” and that she needed closure before her son started a family of his own. She wanted ME to be the one to get him to swab his cheek. Like I was supposed to slip it into conversation. “Hey babe, love you, wanna casually find out if your dad is your dad?” I told her no. I told her that wasn’t my place, and...

So for context, my mother-in-law and I never really got along. Polite, but cold. Fifteen years of birthdays and holidays where she’d smile at me like I was a stain she couldn’t quite scrub out. On my wedding day, she pulled me aside — away from my husband, away from everyone — and handed me a small wooden box. She said, “Promise me you won’t open this until I’m gone.” Then she just… walked away. Never mentioned it again. Not once in fifteen years. Last week she passed. Heart failure, sudden, nobody expected it. At the funeral, I kept thinking about that box. It had been sitting in the back of our closet for a decade and a half, and honestly? I’d almost forgotten about it. But that night, after everyone left, I finally opened it. Inside was a letter, a photograph, and a ring I’d never seen before. The letter started with, “You were never who I was cold to.” Turns out, she’d mistaken me — for years — for someone else entirely. Someone who’d hurt her son before he ever met me. A situatio...