I don't have a PC and want to buy a game off of EA
2025.02.02 04:57 Far_Nothing9549 I don't have a PC and want to buy a game off of EA
So, as the top says, would I be able to play PvZ GW2 without a PC by buying it off of EA and playing it on GeForceNOW
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2025.02.02 04:57 Jamal2939 Amy Gagging 2
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2025.02.02 04:57 Safe_Serve866 I feel you caring about me
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2025.02.02 04:57 HousingNo6458 I am looking for Artists and Editors!
I am giving this a second shot, since my first post was poorly worded and honestly lackluster. So, I'm looking forward to creating a fangan called "University of Talent", I plan to be the lead writer and director of the project. I have concept art of the characters, however I do not have the correct equipment to get them digitally so I only have them on paper. and I have tried posting the concept arts, but they have been getting taken down. As for editors, I already have one, but I am gladly looking for at least one more, as I think it is best to have three writers working on a project.
Story: Make Hearse (pronounced "Maki", not "Make"), the Ultimate Baker, Has been invited to attend the "University of Talent". After some thought, and pressure from her family, she decides to go. However, on the flight to the University, the plane crashes, however, she doesn't die, instead she wakes up with other Ultimates, who she has...opinions on, and after some exploring of the facility, she and the other ultimates are met by "the Principal". Everything starts out...fine, all be it a bit silly, however, after their first trial, the Ultimates are told about a game they are forcibly partaking in. a killing game.
Theme: Man vs Man, Distrust vs Trust.
Setting: University-like facility
Availability: You can contact me on discord, batsaretomuchcute1234
Proof: This is not for voice actors, instead these are character profiles and the first part of the prolouge (only the first half, as I do not want to make spoilers public).
Charachter Profiles: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1eIsgtuLZJuBa9fHpGSp8WN48q_3Q5o48ulfMKLKq7Tw/edit?usp=sharing
First half of Prolouge: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cBpNq9TBK_1oRuKNZ2ZibyLXdB0wWYVNmeRQtQS1qjg/edit?tab=t.0
Character report cards: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1wH3qYR-pIIniO1nMRrfb4cHHNvb49FRtZ7_3cA9dzMM/edit
P.S. for editors- while editing, you can extend dialogue and clean it up, however, please please please absolutely NO AI!!!
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2025.02.02 04:57 MallAffectionate6974 How do make my farm area clean and better?
 | My farm area is so disorganized and dirty how do I make it more “industrial”. Btw most if not all of these farms are from youtube if it matters. submitted by MallAffectionate6974 to MinecraftToDo [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 hogbear I love Sturgill and Miles. So much. But tonight…Woo Pig
iykyk
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2025.02.02 04:57 Ok_Tomatillo_3449 How to find RH value from slope and y- intercept
Probably a really dumb question bc i'm sure there's smth obvious i'm missing but my lab partner and I are stuck on a lab assignment question and since it's a weekend we're unable to contact my TA. pretty much what the title says, how do I find an RH value from the slope and an RH value the Y-intercept of a graph? I need one from both since I then need to average them. I already have the slope, line equation, and Y-intercept of the graph just don't know how to find RH. I tried looking it up but I found nothing. Please help. Thank you
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2025.02.02 04:57 ii3lackie Released 3 beautiful girls this morning
 | submitted by ii3lackie to MonarchButterfly [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 digdug6 Scooby Dooby Doo!
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2025.02.02 04:57 ZoologicalInput Yesterday I took some MDMA at the festival, turned out to be meth. I'm having a hard time with the comedown. No sleep for +24 hours by now.
Yesterday, I took some MDMA at a festival without testing it (I know, dumb, but I trusted the source). As soon as I took it, I knew something was off—extremely dry mouth, excessive jaw clenching, and a compulsive urge to redose. I ended up taking around 400mg, but it felt like chasing a high rather than the usual experience.
I tried to stay in control and enjoy myself, but when I got home, things got weird. Normally, after rolling, I feel drained and at least try to rest, but this time I spent four hours smoking cigarettes, unable to sleep. Even after melatonin, I only got two hours of rest. Now, 24 hours later, I’m still wide awake.
I know I should have tested it, and lesson learned. I’m familiar with MDMA comedowns, but this is different, and the lack of sleep is making it worse. Luckily, I have no work tomorrow, but I really need to rest.
Any advice on how to ride this out as smoothly as possible? I’ve been hydrating, taking vitamins, and trying harm reduction, but the anxiety is creeping in.
And yes, I’ll have a word with my source later, but right now, I just need to get through this.
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2025.02.02 04:57 Verita_Opus WIP Debut as an author, needing readers for the journey. Criticism is welcomed. Below is a teaser to the book.
Cycle Of Why Sci-Fi/Fantasy Author: Verita Opus
Chapter I Madman In a dark, freezing space, the sound of ice cracking breaks the silence of a dead and abandoned room. To the back of it sits an unmanned, rotting, and cheaply made desk chair. Its excuse for cushions is wrapped in synthetic black leather that is cracked in several places. It's held up by a peg with a five pointed spread of plastic wheels. If it should ever move from its seemingly permanent position, it would squeak like a rodent fleeing its predator. There it sits like a forgotten artifact in front of several computer monitors that are mounted to an iced-over concrete wall. Sitting under them is a white and plastic foldable table with its loyal companions on it, a couple of keyboards and mice. Close by are some circular coffee stains, the culprit of which is a ceramic coffee cup not too far off that reads in bold black letters, “This machine runs on caffeine” A design of cartoonish mechanic chugging a pot of coffee is under the text. The fans from within the chassis begin to loudly roar, breathing life back into something seemingly dead. Green and red lights are blinking rapidly. The servers suddenly come to life after sitting for some unknown time. The monitors light up and the following begins to be typed out across the screens.
“There are more questions in life than there are answers. The pursuit of answering these questions is one of life's greatest endeavors. The most cliche question among these is most often answered with jargon or in simplistic ways that never truly answer the questions. This question throughout time has been plaguing the minds of philosophers, religious leaders, prophets, fictional characters, scientists, or any said person that would be so gracious enough to sit with themselves long enough to ponder, “What is the purpose of life?” How poetic is it, that the greatest question's answer would be so relative to itself? Like a snake driven by its reptilian nature mindlessly striking! Only to haphazardly latch upon its own tail. As if it's caught a meal, a prize, or some substance that releases it from its perpetual hunger. The poor creature caught up in its primal nature… The attempt to answer such a question is not a foolish task, but to claim that you have the answer means you are an egoic fool, just like the snake trying to devour itself… This may hurt a little but it’s something you’ll get used to.”
The rest of the text on the screens delete and a latin name appears in the center of one, “Mercurius ter Maximus” a fading high pitched beeping leads us into our story.
Somewhere in a cold ring of Hell known as New York is a peculiar 62 year old man. Crammed away safely snug and isolated from it in the belly of a dingy cold basement. He has unkempt grey hair that drops just above his shoulders, his eyes are a deep bluish green with dark wrinkled bags drooping beneath. Not too prominent eyebrows that are pointed upwards at the edges, and between those is his thin nose. He has a soft jawline with a scruffy grey beard and lips buried somewhere in it. He was dressed in a blue long-sleeved button-up collared shirt with coffee stains, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes that the soles of have been eroded away like the bald tires of teenagers first car. The appearance of such a man would not seem to have much to say, other than to bum a smoke off you outside a 7/11 at 2 AM.
There he is slouched over in his desk chair with his face planted in his sweaty palms, his elbows supported up by his fidgeting knees that are bobbing up and down rapidly. His legs stop as he opens his eyes and lifts his head from his hands revealing a grimace expression. Dropping his arms onto the armrest, he leans back into his chair as it lets out a squeak. The blueprints taped to the concrete walls surrounding him are tied together by red yarn that is held down by colorful thumbtacks; they are meticulously interconnecting several different computer parts. Aside from those blueprints there are some pages that have mysterious symbols without strings weaving them together.
He begins to twirl from side to side and peers at the blueprints and pages on the walls as if looking for something missing. Perhaps, that one last piece of a puzzle that brings all of it together. In frustration he propels himself forward from the armrest shoving the chair backwards causing it to roll across the room, its wheels squeaking and scratching as it strolls.
He begins pacing back and forth, with a heavy sigh he starts murmuring to himself, “What could it be?” The schematics show an intricate layout of hardware put together in a couple of tall server towers that contain high-end CPUs, PSUs, RAM, Motherboards, and GPUs all of which with a heavy power draw. The problem was the amount of power required for the servers. His small basement beneath hell, couldn't possibly pull enough power for it. He begins to talk to himself with frustration, choking any peace. “I could fix the problem myself, but I'll need permission and a permit from the city to do so. Damn it! It wouldn’t be a fun conversation to come up with a lie to avoid explaining what I'm actually doing or why I need to be able to pull more power for a single man's basement. I guess the bright side at least is that the layout is done. Before gathering the parts I'll need to see if the request for a permit gets approved. If not, I'm gonna have to relocate. No, no, no, no! A completely ridiculous thought. I’ll need his help no matter what.”
He storms over to a side table under the blueprints with a lamp, coffee cup, and picture of him and a woman holding one another. He pauses for a moment to stare at the picture, a deep emptiness fills the core of his chest. A hole that seemed to grow and tear him to shreds like a blackhole was spaghettifying his being from the inside. He reaches out and turns off the small lamp. A light behind him is being cast from the stairway, he turns without the storming anger and mopes up the stairs. Once at the top of the stairs he shuts a heavy metal door and begins to secure the multiple locks on it that are larger than normal deadbolts. The bolts are 2 to each side and are spaced evenly with one another. He holds a hand flat on the center of the door, closes his eyes with a strain and rotates his hand while applying pressure. A bright red sigil appears beneath his palm with the motion of his hand it seems to fill in its radius. Once charged it is Solomonic sigil with a circle that is from the tip of his middle finger to the bottom of his hand in size. When he pulls away it dissipates and the knobs of the locks fade with it. It isn’t your average interior door, it is a heavily modified door for the entrance of a house. It is encased in thick steel plates welded together. There isn’t a door knob, instead it has a makeshift rebar handle. Next to it is a keypad for an alarm, he punched in a pin and it began to beep in short increments, following those a long different pitch beep indicating that it has been set. It is any doomsday prepper’s wet dream.
The basement door that probably should be in a bank vault is in the living room. The door wasn't too far from the main entryway of the house. The living room is scarce of furnishing, all it has is a coffee table, a couch, and a tall lamp that is to the side of the couch. There are books stacked about 3 feet high and lining the sides of the walls. Places where you would normally find furniture were just ghostly outlines, made clear as day by the darker parts of the wood floor that have been exposed to years of a lively and happy couple. The walls followed suit, having nothing on them but spectral outlines of where pictures, decorations, or shelves would have hung at one time. It was empty of any cliches that would have alluded to happy people living here at one time.
He drags his feet over to where the coffee table is and reaches for a metal zippo lighter that has an engraving of an alchemical symbol for fire on it. With it he also snatches up a cheap pack of smokes. That is probably full of what fell on the floor of a tobacco factory's production line that eventually was swept up after a good month to age like fine dirt. Packed and sold at a price that’s still not worth it. He opens the pack, pausing for a moment to look and make sure that he does not pull out the lucky smoke. That is by old tradition flipped and put back into the pack upside down, “Gotta smoke that one last.” He slips the death wish between his lips, with a flick of his wrist and a metal clank it snapps the zippo open. His thumb strikes the wheel sparking a flame. The flame kisses the tip of the cigarette and as he takes a deep drag off of the coffin nail he seals the deal. He plops down on the couch and tosses the deadly duo on the table. They slide across and bump into a ceramic ashtray.
As he is smoking he begins reflecting on ways to convince his old colleague to help. The jaded man ponders, “I guess I have no choice but to get help. Will he rat me out or worse steal my idea and develop it in The Workshop?” He is weighing the risk out in his head; he is forced by logic to cave in and take the risk. Another thought surfaces in his mind, one even more terrifying than the first causing a contortion in his stomach, “God if I have to blackmail him into it. threatening to become a whistleblower, revealing the agency, and our original project dragging us all to some horrendous prison not even known by the civilian population. It would take one slip-up while on the run to end up there or my head on a fucking block and I’m headed straight to hell after that… I best save that for a last resort and put it out of mind for now. I need to see how he reacts first. -He glances over at the vault door and reminds himself- It's safe. Wouldn't help me much until I finish this anyhow.”
Our madman leans forward reaching for the laptop sitting on the table, opens it up and hits the power button with his vibrating hand. While doing so he notices that the cigarette has burnt its way to the filter, he flings it into the ashtray leaving it to burn out in it. The awful smell of cotton and fiberglass burning fills his nostrils. As it's booting up the insatiable craving hits him from the anxiety-riddled anticipation of even making contact with his old friend. Much less the lingering possibility of resorting to the last-case scenario of forcing his friend's hand into helping him. The login screen pops up and he types the password in. It's a boy’s name and 4 digits, “Icarus2036” A desktop screen loads up, he clicks a shortcut without a name, that's an icon of a black folder. A small black command screen appears in the middle of the screen, towards the top left of it there is a blinking blue cursor. He starts typing in the following, “SECURE CONNECTION” He taps the enter button. The Screen goes black lines of scripted code immediately flood the screen.
The craving and tremors in his nerves grew even more than it had before he turned on the computer. It won. He thought in justification to himself, “Yeah, who wouldn't need a drink for this shit.” The screen continues to scroll up filling itself with code, without looking close enough you would mistakenly think it is just a blank blue screen. Only by squinting your eyes with your nose pressing against it, would it become clear that it is script moving at the speed of Mach fuck.
He stands up from the couch, his hands and knees quivering. The dying man's back begins cracking like someone is hitting a bag of walnuts with a hammer. He pauses, pressing his hands into his back and stretching into it making it worse, “That wasn't smart at all!” With a painful grunt and deep sigh the worry that death was finally about to punch his ticket fades after a moment. With one hand still on his lower back he shuffles his way into the kitchen. It is lined with dust and its ceiling is decorated with cobwebs. It's a large one for a home with only 3 beds, and a bath. The L-shaped countertop is dark brown granite with specks of black, grey, white, and mica. On the countertop there are a few large 8-10 lb bags of raw rice and beans. Tucked to the side of them are tubs of cheap coffee grinds. The only variety of sustenance is the type of rice or beans. Truth be told, there is more variety in the color of the granite countertops. There is also a granite island, that sunlight is casting rays onto from the window above the stove. It is the only place that is not completely covered in dust but only where there sits a whiskey glass, bottle of liquor, and a tablet. A few different spots where you could see they had sat before. The jug of cheap scotch was Seagrams 7, better suited for stripping the paint off a car than it was drinking, however, it's just as good at stripping the lining of your stomach and any unwelcome thoughts with it.
He grabs the plastic handle of paint thinner with his hand that quivers like he has parkinson's disease, cracks the seal and misses the glass as some as he pours it till about half full. As he downs the spirits, he clenches his eyes shut. He begins shaking his head, flinging his cheeks with a sputter. His throat quickly becomes a ring of fire that would suit the imagery of angels casting screaming demons back down to hell through it. He slams the glass on the counter like a gavel passing down a sentence of heavenly judgment. The deranged man clenches the corners of the counter and leans forward in agonizing pain as the ulcer in his stomach begins to react to the liquor, his stomach has been empty until now. After about ten minutes the neglected ulcer in him has become silent and the shakes vanish. The alcohol has finally seeped its way into his bloodstream, he heaves a deep sigh of relief. Leaning his head back, opening his eyes glaring at a dark blotch of water damage on the ceiling. The stain is like Rorschach paint blotch, to him it looked like a Hermit in a hooded robe holding a walking stick and lantern up. For the first time it spoke to him, an inescapable memory floods his mind placing him in a trance of what is long gone.
His wife was standing just to the left side of a much younger and cleaner version of himself. She had a slender and petite frame, with long black hair, her eyes were a shade of dark brown like the bark of an evergreen tree. She had a thin elvish nose and the rest of her features fit just as well into that description, of some beautiful fairy or elf. Only falling short of her ears, hair, and fashion. She was wearing some tattered short shorts, beneath those were black fishnet stockings. She was sporting one of his old band T-shirts from a TOOL concert he attended as a teenager. It was 3 sizes too big for her; the back of it had a set list and tour dates. The front of it had a printed design called The Great Turn that was painted by Alex Gray for one of the band's albums. She was stirring a crock pot of lima beans with a chunk of ham in it, the aroma was filling the house with a presence making it truly feel like a home. While holding a glass of red wine with her free hand, giving it a slight swivel with her wrist before sipping. A song was playing on a small bluetooth speaker in the background, it was “Dreams by Jake Kohn” He was staring at the stain, “What does that look like to you? My colleagues have been looking at the Rorschach test to see if it has any use in deciphering people's thought processes or state of mind in general. For the life of me I never see anything in them.” She pauses, stirring coming out of a daydream and turns to him, “Hm, what's that love?”. He pointed up, “The stain on the ceiling, what's it look like to you?” She softly giggles and reflects for a moment while peering at it, “Looks like something you were supposed to fix, months ago.-She turns back to the pot and latches the lid shut- Almost done, about 20 minutes hun. It looks like Kharon.” He doesn't respond immediately, smiling about her subtle jab at him neglecting to fix the ceiling. The name was familiar to him but he couldn't put a finger to it, “Sounds familiar, who was that?” She turned back around to face him, locking her deep brown eyes with his. The unspoken words in both their minds, “All that time in philosophy courses and you don't remember Kahron? It's quite an impactful mythos.” He smiles, thinking to himself, “God she is relentless, must be why I love her.” He breaks eye contact to look back at the stain. Being mindful not to have a tone or let his ego actually be offended by the loving jab, “No love, wish I could. I’d have a couple of Nobel prizes and we'd be rolling in it if I could remember everything from college. Please enlighten me again, you know I love it when you go into your rabbit holes. You always catch that lil shit covered in white fur!” They both laugh and raise their drinks to salute the memory of their many in-depth conversations. The song seemingly switches with the vibe, the playlist starts playing “Yellow Bird by Pretty Lights” She begins as she always does when they have these conversations, “Well, fair warning this may take a bit.”
The long-winded but welcomed revelation that she offered went into great detail about Greek tragedies, and the mythological figure known as Kharon also referred to as Charon who was a Ferryman and required payment to get on his boat, to venture across the rivers, Styx, and Acheron into the underworld. Adding that the underworld was ruled over by the brother of Zeus, Hades. The mysterious figure would make an appearance during the protagonist’s “Hero's Journey” where they would venture through the underworld to save their damsel in distress from hell or obtain some forbidden knowledge to help them in their quest. She goes on to explain how the culture of the time developed a tradition of placing a gold coin in the mouths of their dead, so they would be able to pay the ferryman's tax. Over time it somehow switched to being put over their eyes, which is still a common practice. The cherry on top of her lecture was invoking the imagery of Kharon, to do so she recited an excerpt from Aeneid by a Roman poet known as Publius Vergilius Varo, and in the most theatrical way she possibly could. Beginning by placing her right hand over her chest, stretching towards the heavens with the other hand. While still holding the glass of wine. She started grandstanding for comedic effect, it was the performance of her lifetime. In her mind she was in the spotlight of a theater that had sold out of tickets.
“There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast; A sordid god: down from his hairy chin A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean; His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.”
Once she had finished her dramatization, she gave a curtsy, and as she was straightening upwards she finished off her wine. Then motioned towards him with the glass as a gesture for him to refill it like she was royalty. A smile from ear to ear revealed his nicotine-stained yellowish teeth, a bold chuckle that quickly turned to a burst of hysterical laughter leaped from him. His arms folded and hugged his stomach, as he bent over. A pain filled his chest that hurt in the best way possible. With a deep gasp for air like he had almost just drowned, he straightened back upwards revealing a couple of teary streams flowing from his eyes, he began clapping, “BRAVO, BRAVO, BRAVO, MAGNIFICO!!!!!!” He reaches for her glass while trying to catch his breath. She has just as much energy and begins to act as though she is receiving an Oscar, “THANK YOU! THANK YOU! I JUST WANNA SAY THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTED ME ON MY JOURNEY!!!” She begins to laugh, and with some tears to garnish her joy as well. After pouring another glass of wine for her, he grabs himself a beer from the fridge, as he is handing her the glass of wine, “I do believe winning an Oscar is worthy of a toast.” Raising his beer waiting for her glass to meet his can, with a clink, “Cheers!” A moment of them regaining composure passes and she asked him, “So, what do you see?” He looks back up to the stain. A computerized voice akin to Stephen Hawking calls from the other room, “Secured”
The memory fades from his mind, the computer's interruption brings him back into the much more empty and quiet place that was once a home. He peers into the spectral and hermit-like figure on the ceiling. In a solemn voice, “Cheers, babe, I'm gonna miss you both dearly.” He grabs the jug of liquor, pours another glass only a quarter full this time he slams it back. The burn wasn't bad this time but smooth. Without the need to shake his head with a grimace expression or sputter of his cheeks. He sets the glass down softly, walks back into the living room and falls back onto the couch. Leaning forward he grabs the smokes along with the Zippo, in a habitual motion sparks one up, after sucking it in and releasing, he looks at the monitor that had now cleared except for in bold blue “[SECURED, READY FOR COMMAND]” He types in, “Connect To project VERITAS.” he slaps the enter key, gets up and proceeds back to the kitchen grabbing the jug and glass. This time bringing them back with him to the couch and coffee table. He thinks to himself, “This could take a while for him to respond.” Some hours pass, and with it, the bottle of liquor drains like sand in an hourglass. He doesn’t mind, he isn’t in a rush as his surroundings entailed there isn’t much at all for him. He was reading an old book, titled, “The Initiates of the Flame by Manly P. Hall” Music was playing from his phone the song was, “Iron Fist by Coheed and Cambria” He didn't notice but at some point text had popped up on the monitor under his original command. This text was red, “[VERITAS]: Enter Key__” After a moment he lifts his eyes from the book, rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger bringing them in to pinch the bridge of his nose. He leans forward to pour another glass, only then to notice the red text, “SHIT! God, I hope he's still there damn it! God forbid I have to reset the connection.” He leans over to quickly type in “RUBEDO” and hits enter. His knees begin bobbing up and down furiously from the nerve-wracking anticipation that he would have to start the program over or better yet that out of precaution his old colleague resets the command to gain access to the communication log. Red text appears as such, “[VERITAS]: Enter Name__” A wave of relief washes over he responds, “[MAX]” red text follows just after his blue text, “CONNECTION TO VERITAS ESTABLISHED” The script on the screen clears a blue cursor blinks. A brief moment later a green text appears, “[ALKAHEST]: My god, is that you Samuel?” Samuel begins typing, “[MAX]: Yes, we need to speak. Can you meet me at the place?” A moment later, “[ALKAHEST]: That bad, huh? Sure tomorrow at 1 Am.” After a moment the window wipes the chat, the command box closes on its own. Samuel picks up his phone and calls someone. A hoarse and deep voice on the other end answers, “Yell’oh, this is Tommy. Bit late, what's this about?” Samuel stands up and starts pacing, “Hey man, I need a flight. I know you don’t know but I’ll pay good money. Can you meet me at a private landing strip in Virginia?” Silence fills the line for a long time, Tommy finally speaks up “What is this an emergency?” Samuel is leaning on the back of his couch with a foot tapping rapidly, “Yes, I can’t talk about it on this line.” Tommy responds much faster this time, “10-4 if you know the spot I’ll be there, otherwise I can’t help you.” The line cuts. Samuel rushes to gather a hiking bag with enough for a 4-5 hour hike and rams his laptop in it as well. He bolts out the front door and slamming it, knocking over a book that opens on “The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.” ~Marcus Aurelius
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2025.02.02 04:57 UncannySpore203 Cannot Find the subreddit where people post pictures of scraps of paper
From what I remember it’s about scraps of paper that are meant to be thrown away or discarded, and no it is not foundpaper
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2025.02.02 04:57 SadIncident25 No se que hacer con mi vida , algún consejo?
Soy un chico de 23 años al cual no le gusta para nada su vida así cinco meses o mejor dicho en agosto terminé mi relación una relación en la cual iba muy bien en la cual yo era feliz la cual ella era feliz teníamos nuestros problemas teníamos nuestras cosas pero siempre siempre nos amamos mucho Nosotros no éramos para nada de pelear pero un día en una pelea no tan fuerte ella decidió terminarme nos peleamos yo yo claramente me puse demasiado mal y le insistí que al menos me terminará en persona Despues de tanto rogarle , nos vimos , ella seguía con su desicion en Pie , cosa que no entendía porque eso tenía una solución, en un momento de todo eso , ella me da su celular , y le llega un mensaje de su mamá diciendo “espero que no sea por” y el nombre de una persona , persona la cual ella está en este momento, es decir , ella me dejo por otra persona , por otro hombre, cosa que me sorprende de ella , nunca me Parecio que fuera de ese tipo de persona , el caso es que siempre lo negó , pero pues es una realidad que en el algún momento admitió, despues de eso yo he caído muy bajo , le he rogado , incluso la he acosado (cosa de la que no me siento orgulloso) pero el trauma fue tanto que mi autoestima fue por el piso , me dejo demasiadas inseguridades, meses después tuvimos comunicación y ella me dijo que lo lamentaba mucho por lo que me hizo y aún me quería , había días que hablábamos muy bien y se notaba que aún había un cariño , pero hace dos semanas ella me dijo que no estaba bien hablar , y dejo de hacerlo , de responderme , la he buscado pero no me responde , realmente ya no quiero nada con ella , solo sacármela de la cabeza. Creo que mu mente o corazón la ha idealizado demasiado tanto como persona y como físicamente, no me la puedo sacar de la cabeza y siento que ya es un tipo de obsesión , solo quiero dejar eso a un lado y avanzar , pero realmente no se como , extraño la compañía de alguien en mi vida , ya que a mi edad (23) un sábado sentirse tan solo en casa es devastador. Además en mi vida personal y laboral no va nada bien , no he logrado conseguir trabajo, llevo desde agosto desempleado , que fue el mes donde precisamente ella me termino , quiero lograr y ser muchas cosas pero yo mismo se que tengo qe cambiar pero llega el dia y no lo hago. Todo es un tipo de bucle del cual no salgo , quiero tener una moto , pero sin trabajo no puedo , quiero ser más social , tengo amigos pero cuando ellos están haciendo su vida aparte de estar conmigo me siento muy solo. Tampoco estoy estudiando una carrera por temas económicos, en fin , solo es como un tipo de desahogo , de verdad aprecio a las personas o persona que me brinde un consejo , es mi primera vez en esta red social y publicando algo Aqui , de ante mano gracias y lo siento por la ortografía y redacción de esto , no me encuentro en las condiciones para escribir decentemente , espero alguien me pueda brindar un consejo , lo agradezco mucho:)
submitted by SadIncident25 to RedditPregunta [link] [comments]
2025.02.02 04:57 lemonnne is my smiski fake?
 | for reference^^^ sthese are both from the same site, but the one on my phone is glossier?? is it because I touch it's butt a lot of is it fake? submitted by lemonnne to smiskis [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 leowashisname_789 Drank for the first time in a few months and broke in hives (I think?)
 | submitted by leowashisname_789 to DermatologyQuestions [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 Blacklolls Compre una camisa de la selección mexicana
Yo se que la situación actual de la selección mexicana es en mínimo preocupante (hace ya años), pero es cierto q también tienen una de las mejores camisas de selección! Me encanta los detalles, el color y su significado.
submitted by Blacklolls to mexico [link] [comments]
2025.02.02 04:57 NightmarSpiral What are things that we actually know about the game? (no release date stuff just the game in general)?
Just curious on the information that we have so far (or what we can infer with.) The length of the game, the full developers, the (presumed) price of the game, just things like that lol
submitted by NightmarSpiral to Silksong [link] [comments]
2025.02.02 04:57 yeetusdacanible Average r/askachinese question
 | https://preview.redd.it/r36rlmyjqnge1.png?width=612&format=png&auto=webp&s=9efbf015752b4337771fe3ceb02a79a545725b54 submitted by yeetusdacanible to Asia_irl [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 subless Out of the loop. What's the process for getting basic offline mods to work?
I only use the following mods for offline play from GTAV-Mods.
* ScriptHook v1.0.1491.17 * ScriptHookVDotNet v3.7.0-nightly.14 * GTAV Mod Manager * Simple Trainer When I followed the instructions for installing the mods I keep getting the following error that I can't seem to make go away.
*Activation requires an internet connection and you are currently in offline mode. Your offline activation data could not be loaded. *
I've watched a few YT videos about checking Windows 11 Firewall settings etc. and everything is set correctly. I can play online no issues.
submitted by subless to GTAV_Mods [link] [comments]
2025.02.02 04:57 Careless-Ad-5906 lost in a sea of woes
i’m still here and not much has changed. drowning in fear but my room has rearranged.
am i any closer? or am i running in place? i’m losing composure you can see it on my face.
when do you know when it’s time to wave that flag? when it’s time to grow? when to move out of the lag?
have i stopped growing? or am i just not on that chart? or have i started glowing? and this is my start?
these emotions wear me down, constant highs and crippling lows. the weight of a crumbling crown, lost in a sea of woes.
submitted by Careless-Ad-5906 to justpoetry [link] [comments]
2025.02.02 04:57 ministerman Tell me about the videos on Les Mills + / on demand
I really am interested in doing Body Pump. I've done it in the past, through the old Beach Body version. However, my question is - is there only one video for Body Pump? Or are there several? What about the other options?
I don't see anything online that shows you all the classes / sessions you have access to when you subscribe.
submitted by ministerman to lesmills [link] [comments]
2025.02.02 04:57 OrchidAltruistic8982 Trial Courts Repeatedly Making Same Mistakes In Dowry Death Cases: Supreme Court
 | Supreme Court acquitted the man after almost 20 years. Source: https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/trial-courts-making-same-mistakes-in-dowry-death-cases-supreme-court-7605101 submitted by OrchidAltruistic8982 to indianews [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 Ambitious_Basket_763 Need to know what pants these are
 | This is on one of JPEGMAFIA’s instagram posts and I was wondering what pants he was wearing submitted by Ambitious_Basket_763 to findfashion [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 BandFreak00 What Barba quotes live rent free in your head?
 | This scene is one of my favorites submitted by BandFreak00 to RaulEEsparza [link] [comments] |
2025.02.02 04:57 AutoNewspaperAdmin [National] - Trump puts tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China, spurring trade war as North American allies respond | Chicago Sun-Times
![[National] - Trump puts tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China, spurring trade war as North American allies respond | Chicago Sun-Times](https://external-preview.redd.it/9QT5hSUAN_NrYvrYQZNqjLYYPgQW9OMk2hy6VqBHu5Q.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=c54c9326f1e39b426a22768e6373b9a4f7d2be0c "[National] - Trump puts tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China, spurring trade war as North American allies respond | Chicago Sun-Times") | submitted by AutoNewspaperAdmin to AutoNewspaper [link] [comments] |