u/No_Importance_750

I’m from the US, and yes I know people are sick of hearing about us and I don’t blame them, but I just have so many feelings right now that I really need to get off my chest. I grew up loving this country. I have family and friends who have fought for this country, fought tooth and nail to get here for a better life. Now I’m just turning 18 and I’m watching it seemingly all crumble down. The political polarization, the politics, etc. it all breaks my heart. I’ve never believed that the US was the best country ever. I’ve always believed that every country had its good and bad but now I’m struggling to still see the good in my country at all. I’ve grown to hate it. Whenever I see an American flag I automatically feel angry. I hate AP government class because the entire class is decorated with flags and sometimes I actually pretend I’m sick just to avoid that class. When people ask me where I’m from I tell them I don’t feel like talking about it. I’m exhausted. I’m tired. My rights as a minority are being stripped away in front of my eyes. I have witnessed injustice happening and genuine traumatic events. Adulthood has finally arrived and it genuinely feels like a horrible time to be a new adult right now. I wish I could still love this place. I wish I could still have hope but I don’t. I’ve struggled to see a point in even living anymore. My grades are dropping and I’m no longer an honor roll student like before. I haven’t been sleeping well or enjoying anything at all. My heart is broken and grieving the country I once loved hurts. Grieving the hope and dreams I had as an optimistic child. I’m also dealing with genuine trauma and a diagnosis of PTSD and depression and my already preexisting OCD has been exacerbated. I never thought I’d be such a pessimistic and hopeless adult. I see pictures of myself as a child smiling and enjoying American holidays and I feel like burning them because they just don’t feel real anymore. Even after this all ends, even 50 years from now, my heart will never fully be healed. This is permanent.

Obviously I don’t and never will completely understand what you guys go through as men and your experiences, however, I do know what it’s like to struggle with mental health. It can feel very lonely and isolating. That’s why I have a message for you guys. I’m not the best at putting my thoughts into words but I’ll do my best. Your mental health matters. No matter what society says, you matter. Your emotions, feelings, tears, all of it are valid and you don’t deserve to be judged or feel shamed for feeling them. Men have tear ducts just like women. Men have emotions just like women. Society may tell you guys you have to “man up” but you don’t. There are people out there who genuinely care so much about you and want to support you in your struggles. I have a brother, a father, and at least half of my friends are guys so I’ve seen it firsthand. It breaks my heart when they try to hide their emotions. If someone, whether it’s a woman or another man makes you feel bad for being emotional, that says more about them than it does about you. You matter. And yes, there are women out there who care, who like it when men express themselves and are honest about how they feel, and we know that you are all individuals and not all of you are the same. I’ve met many great men and many terrible men just like I’ve met many great women and terrible women. Society’s negative labels can sting I know, but they don’t reflect the whole picture. I guess my point is just keep being the best you can be and just know that it’s ok to feel how you feel and you will find people who won’t judge you for your feelings. Sending hugs to those who need it 🫂.

I’m just a normal woman, I live paycheck to paycheck in a crusty and rundown little apartment complex in the greater Manhattan area. My apartment number was 607. For years I’ve never really had any issues. My neighbors have all been pleasant lately and we frequently greet each other in the lobby and in the elevator like normal. It’s easy for me to pretend, to pretend that I trust them, trust anyone after what HE did.

It was about 5 years ago when I was just starting my job as a waitress at the local cafe. I was new to the city, didn’t know anyone, so I decided I wanted to get to know some of my neighbors. I hosted a party in my apartment as a way to make some new connections. Most of the people I met at the party were normal people, who chatted about normal boring things like work, their kids, relationships, you know, just typical adult things, but there was one particular neighborhood who stuck out to me like a sore thumb.

I was in the bathroom after showering because some drunken guest had puked all over me when the door opened and HE entered without even knocking. He had a creepy grin on his face and I remember his words vividly, “Guess I missed the show” and he laughed like a maniac. I yelled at him to get out and he left. He was creepy looking, bones too long for his skin, eyes too wide for his face, hair like straw, he didn’t even look human. He looked like a muppet straight from a horror movie.

Later that night I laid down in my bed pondering, so confused. Everyone at the party said they’d never seen that guy before and I began to wonder if the sleep deprivation was getting to me. Could I have made him up? I didn’t know. I couldn’t close my eyes because when I did the image of his creepy grin and the memory of his creepy words echoed in my head. What the heck did he mean “looks like I missed the show”? What a creep.

The next day when I got up, I acted like everything was normal. I brushed it off and figured he was just some weirdo who happened to show up. After all I had thrown a party that said all neighbors were invited. Maybe that was a mistake. I packed up and got ready for work. I dreaded it. I remember entering the elevator on my way to the lobby as usual, nothing unusual just mundane.

What happened next, I’m still not entirely sure how to explain it. As the elevator shut fingers suddenly pried their way through the crack between each door as someone inhumanely strong pried opened the doors. Then I was face to face with HIM, the same man from my party, his wild crazy eyes and smile staring at me. “HI PRINCESS” he said in a twisted and weird voice. I gulped as he entered the elevator.

He smelled bad, like rotten flesh and cow manure, like he was simultaneously in a garbage can and a slaughter house at the same time. I plugged my nose and turned away from the stench, HUGE mistake. Seeing this he grabbed me by the arm, his long witch like fingers cold as ice wrapping around my wrists like handcuffs. I gasped in fear. “LET ME GO!” I screamed.

Suddenly the elevator lights flashed and the elevator rocked violently. I screamed in fear and hit my head hard causing me to black out. I woke up after what felt like moments later in my bed again upstairs. “What the actual heck?” I thought rubbing my head. “Maybe it was all a bad dream?” I thought. Once again I got up and got ready for work.

I arrived at the coffee house and about 5 minutes into my shift something weird happened. It was boring at first. I made drinks, probably the same caramel latte 5 times in a row at that point when I heard a voice that made the hairs on my neck stand up. “PRINCESS” it said. I dropped the coffee I’d been making and looked up. Suddenly the room was dark and everyone else was gone except for HIM, my weird neighbor. Again his face freaked me out and that weird smile tugged at his lips.

I stepped back and started to run. I ran and began desperately trying to open the doors to get outside only to realize the doors weren’t doors anymore. They were walls, black walls in a black room shaped like a box. I screamed and pounded desperately. HE grabbed me from behind and pulled me in, his stench burning my nostrils. “You really think you could just get away from me like that?” He snarled. Without thinking I bit his arm.

As soon as I did he screamed in pain and stepped back. His blood was black, oozing out like hot tar, staining my teeth. I fainted from exhaustion only to wake up again in bed just like before. Same time, same place, I began to think I was losing my mind.

“How tf am I back here again? How is it 9:00 again? Surely I must be tripping” I thought rubbing my head. I know it wasn’t a dream though. The bump on my head from before, the black stains on my teeth as I looked in the mirror. What was going on? My thoughts were soon interrupted when I heard a loud thump coming from the room above mine.

I saw a hole in my ceiling, a little hole just barely visible. I climbed up onto the counter to look and saw it. HIS room. He wasn’t home but something about his room made me want to sneak in and see what was really wrong with him.

I crept up the stairs and used a hairpin to pick the lock to his door. The door swung open with a loud creak. I went in and investigated. His room smelled as bad, if not worse, than him. I felt like I’d walked into a landfill. I was so disgusted I felt like vomiting. Who tf keeps there room this disgusting? I thought. There were rats, ants, roaches, every pest you could think of scuttling around his floor.

There were mountains of dirty laundry, food scraps scattered around, but nothing compared to what I discovered in his closet. Terrified I opened the door to his closet and what I found will forever haunt me. First I found the worker ID of every single girl who had lived in the apartment I lived in now. Then I saw that there was a box labeled “my princess collection” and when I opened it I found something that horrified me beyond words.

Inside of the box was several bags of human hair and human skin that had been turned into clothes. There were skin jackets and hair hats. I felt disgusted. Knowing I had to flee and call the cops immediately I began fumbling with my phone. My neighbor was a serial killer who turned his victims into clothes. Before I could fully dial 911 however I felt a hand grab me. “YOUR TURN NOW PRINCESS” a demonic voice screamed. I screamed as loud as I could as HIS face gleamed at me wildly and his hand sank into my mouth ripping out my insides and scalping me alive.

Now I’m dead, a ghost haunting his closet and there are other ghosts in here too. The ghosts of every girl who’s ever lived in the apartment numbered 607. There’s another lady living in there now. Sometimes HE leaves after kissing our bodies goodnight so he can go peak through the hole and watch her shower. I have to warn her so she doesn’t end up in the same spot with the same fate as me.

As an American who was 16 during elections and couldn’t vote, but has always seen how awful Trump is even when I was 8 years old in 2016, I respectfully don’t give a crap if you’ve changed your mind and decided you no longer support him. You voted for him. You caused this. You are the problem. You can whine and say you are sorry all you want and that you regret your decision but I don’t care. The fact that you didn’t see from the beginning that he was a bad guy, that you overlooked the horrible things he said and did to other people, etc. makes you at fault. Don’t come to me crying and apologizing for your mistake. I don’t wanna hear it. You voted for someone who actively attacks my identity, cut off my resources and rights because he hates people like me, someone who breaks every fucking law in the constitution. “I didn’t know he’d do this” that just tells me you didn’t care until it started affecting you. I’m sorry but no matter how much you apologize and no matter how much you try and be anti-Trump now, I’m still pissed at you for voting him in in the first place.

Edit: maybe eventually I’ll be able to forgive if they can prove to me that they’ve genuinely changed and will never support a dictator again but it’s gonna take time and I’m pretty fucking angry rn.