Bimql chhetry.

In the house on the corner of Sycamore and 47th, where the porch sagged like a tired back and the wind always whispered secrets through the chimney, the Jacksons were plotting a Christmas revelation. Not a soft one. Not a gentle, cocoa-sipping, “let’s talk” kind of truth. No, this was a Jackson-style truth—loud, dramatic, and dipped in a little bit of chaos. Theresa Jackson, mother of three stair-steppin’ babies—Tyrone Jr. (11), Abeni (10), and little Theresa (9)—had a plan. A plan stitched together with red velvet, white fur trim, and a kiss that would shake the foundation of childhood fantasy. See, the Jacksons believed in honesty. Not the kind you whisper behind closed doors, but the kind you shout over the sound of frying bacon. And this year, they were gonna tell the kids the truth: Santa Claus was a lie. A beautiful, jolly, gift-giving lie. And they were gonna do it with flair. Tyrone Sr., a man that would do anything for his family, agreed to don the suit. He’d sneak in, Theres...

I work in the XXXREDACTEDXXX. My company CEO has been trying to keep everybody from learning a pretty terrible secret he's been keeping. Most of his closest allies know the secret, but just don't care because he's been shoveling money and power to them. (Not from his OWN wallet, mind you! He's been selling off \*company\* assets, but using the money to basically bribe people.) So, basically, he's surrounded by people he's bought. But, he's been lying to the board and to the public this whole time. Well, funny thing about that: This scandal he's been caught up in which he's been lying about – he's been accusing the previous CEO and pretty much everybody else of being involved. He even has been threatening to "release all the info" for, like, a year or two. Well, now, the board is actually demanding that he release everything! And it all points back to him! So, this is where I come in. I'm just a tech guy who has to assemble technica...

Merry Christmas to me. What was supposed to be a life changing point for the good is now a huge nightmare. Me (45 M) and her (44 F) have had a long distance relationship for going on three years. There were talks of her moving to be with me (15 hours away) for nearly a year, but when I was laid off in July (pending a 2 year contract in which I must stay with the company remote to earn my severance), we decided six months ago that I should move there. For the last six months I have been making arrangements. I sold my house in a bad market and barely broke even. I sold or gave away most of my possessions. I had a full three bedroom house and now literally everything I own fits into a Honda HRV. Fast forward to Christmas break and it is finally time for me to move. I have been sending her Xmas gifts for months in anticipation. We have talked daily about all of our plans. I was supposed to start driving yesterday and the night before she tells me that there is a problem. She tells me t...

I was very high tolerance heroin addict daily for 2 years I could afford it and I liked it. How opiate roll is the next dose takes more to reach the same effect. And his opiates is eventually there will some form mismatch involving environmental or physiological that effects how you dose was metabolized and overdose occurs. I was beginning to mix glad was afraid went up opioid dependence dr. I was put on 600 mg morphine time release a day to about serious withdrawal. About a year of no heroin I switched from the morphine to 8 mg Suboxone and over the next 15 months gradually taper down to 1 mg. Withdrawal sentence were very close to full-blown when you taper after a milligram. I made 2 topers after 1 mg both tapers pretty much full-blown withdrawal for 12 days. I just stopped at 500 µg suboxone and did not expect what was coming. It was worse than I thought longer than I thought way longer than I thought, but you don’t end for three weeks of straight chronic sickness. Akasthesia tha l...

So, he traveled a lot for work. Or at least, that’s what I thought. It was always framed as temporary. Just a few days here and there. Conferences, client meetings, last-minute flights. I never questioned it because he never gave me a reason to. He sent photos from airports. Complained about hotel beds. Texted me when he landed. It all looked normal. The moment everything cracked wasn’t dramatic. It was stupidly small. He mentioned being in Chicago for a work thing. I asked him how the weather was because I’d just seen a storm warning pop up on my phone. He paused. Then said it was fine. Clear. Cold, but fine. Later that night, I checked the weather again out of pure boredom. No storm. No warning. I brushed it off, told myself I misread it. But that pause stayed with me. After that, I started noticing little inconsistencies. Dates that didn’t line up. Flights that didn’t match what he said his schedule was. Hotel names that changed when he retold the same story. Nothing concrete, but ...

The divorce shattered me. I spent my days broken, trying not to cry in front of my six-year-old. She said something that floored me. "Daddy, when I'm sad, I call Mommy." I thought about telling her that was impossible for me, as her mom would hang up instantly. Then it clicked. And I called my mom.