In a religious church/school I attended, we had a “revival” week in which kids took to destroying their “secular” CDs, etc. It became sort of a game of oneupmanship mixed with a dash of Satanic Panic. You could brag in chapel about it and get kudos, look good in front of everyone. One pre-teen/young teenage girl went home and put her Ouija board in a tub of gasoline and lit it. She barely survived, spent months in the hospital, and was never the same, obviously. The adults then comforted themselves by telling everyone that she had seen red eyes in the flames. It was for the best, you see, the Ouija board did indeed have a demon inside. After, she got really into Marilyn Manson, wearing all black, etc. so they cast her as the evil kid to feel even better, I guess.

The end.

Did I do it right? Did I do good?

My knife collection began because I was suicidal.

To keep myself around I got a bunch of knives so I wouldn’t pick a favorite and “dissapoint” the others.

…I got better.

When I was a kid I told a Special Ed teacher who I trusted that one of the gym teachers was having sex with high school students and grooming girls as young as 14.

Rather than report this to the authorities he told the gym teacher what was said. The next day the gym teacher (who was a big former semi-pro football player or something like that) cornered me and intimidated me into shutting my mouth.

2 years later a former student confronted the gym teacher’s wife. In the fallout his behavior came to light and he left our school and went to teach a few towns over. The Special Ed teacher joked about it after the fact.

It was probably 20 years before I fully understood the scope of how disgusting that situation was.

My lungs are 21 years older than I am. My new lungs were put in using a clamshell incision and arching my back… don’t look it up if you’re squeamish, it’s pretty scary looking

When I was younger, I believed that if a woman was raped, it was her fault for what she was wearing. My highschool friends called me the most unempathetic person they’d ever met and I was proud of that.

Thankfully I’ve turned right around on all that and learned empathy. I’m ashamed for my younger self, but I know they were just doing the best they could with the very few tools they were given.

Hey the moderator removed my reply. Well it’s a good thing he’s a moderator, otherwise he’d have to present a coherent argument in public like the rest of us instead of just censoring me.

I kicked a decrepit german shepard to death.

I intentionally make up horrors and monsters to lurk in the shadows or under my bed. Sometimes when I can’t fall asleep, I stare at a corner of the room, imagining some unsettling creature that could be lurking there, staring back at me (if it has eyes at all). I imagine something reaching up to grab the leg I’m stick out over the edge.

But they can’t actually get me. They’re created, sustained and dispelled by my will. They may stare at me, reach for me, but they’re powerless. When I’m done with them, I send them back to the half-existence in the collection of ideas I built them from.

It’s a cruel power fantasy, to make up monsters incapable of understanding that they’re the lesser horror between us, but it’s fun.

It also seems to help me sleep, but that might just be the fact that focusing my brain on one thing quiets all the background noise.

I realized I was trans in middle school, i said something suicidal to my friend and he told on me. I never really talked to the therapists because my mom was very homophobic. I got put on antidepressants and suppressed my feelings so hard I can hardly remember my childhood.
5 years later my depression went into “full remission” couple of months before I came out. I then 180°d and got sent to the psych ward for suicide ideation this February.

The only thing that stopped me from killing myself is the realization that my cat would be rubbing against my body for pets in the ~10 hours it would take for my family to find me. I was planning to buy a knife after work but broke down in the bathroom.

In the same year I put my head through a plate glass window (to a shocking lack of injury) I also attempted to lift an engine block off a cherry picker… WITH MY HEAD… to hilarious results.

Well the TBI, seizures and utter disregard of my mother to the suggestion of a neurosurgeon that I needed surgery to relieve swelling at the injury site weren’t too funny. The latter is my favorite as she ‘treated’ me with nightmarish vegetable smoothies consisting of spinach and not much else.

I still hate spinach. And it’s been 47 years.

The town’s undertaker embalms everyone who does not embalm themselves. Who embalms the undertaker?

OP, the pic said an unsettling fact about you, not your neighbor. You need to follow it up with something like, “While he did it, I held my hand over his so he could teach me his techniques.” If true, that it would make it an unsettling fact about you. If you don’t have anything, though, it happens. I’m not coming up with much at the moment either. And just saying something like “I poop a lot” would do this thread an injustice.

A bit over a decade ago, I was motorcycle camping on a solo trip down the US West coast. Being a bit on the cheap side and preferring wilderness, I decided to make use of the Bureau of Land Management camp sites, where possible. They are free, somewhat remote and quiet (no hookups for RVs or any of that), which I really appreciate.

While heading South through Northern California, I stopped at the one near Ukiah, had a quick dinner, and went to sleep in my 2-person tent that I had been using for the trip. For some reason, I had my laptop out - maybe trying to look at some helmet cam footage. And, when I went to sleep, I was lazy and just suspended it, leaving its power LEDs slowly blinking.

I was awoken in the middle of the night by an animal rather forcefully trying to get through the side of my tent. I shouted and banged on the handle of my hatchet (hollow, glass-filled nylon, so it could be used to make rather significant noise). The animal took off, rather loudly through the brush near the camp site. My laptop, with blinking LEDs was right next to the wall of the tent where my “visitor” had been trying to gain entrance. So, I completely shutdown the laptop, ensuring that there was no blinking and failed to get any more meaningful sleep.

The next morning, once it was light out, I warily looked outside my tent to be sure that my “visitor” wasn’t waiting for me. Then, surveyed the site with hatchet in hand and heavy sheath knife on my belt (Morakniv Companion - highly recommended in carbon steel as it’s a great knife and still somehow cheap). All around the picnic table where I had cooked my curried lentil dinner were the large and unmistakable tracks of my large feline “visitor”. Not wanting to stick around in case the mountain lion decided to come by to investigate some more, I quickly broke camp and made my way back to the road, skipping my planned breakfast for diner food.

As one can reasonably expect from this experience, I camped at the same campground on my way back North and return there to camp fairly regularly.

I spend time on google maps just browsing, learning where different places are in the world.

One time someone put a blurred out map showing their location and I knew exactly where they were.

I promise never to use this power for evil.

I went for a walk on the Hudson Bay coast of far northern Ontario once when I was a teenager and we saw a polar bear. We’re Indigenous and my family has connections up there so we went to visit them many times when I was growing up.

We had seen the bear a few days before from the safety of a frieghter canoe filled with a group of hunters with high powered rifles. We were in a 24 foot canoe and the bear was a huge adult that was probably about 12 to 15 feet long on four limbs and probably 20 feet standing. We looked at each other for a while and then dad and his hunter relatives fired warning shots next to the bear. The spray of firing a high powered shot in mud and clay is like a mini explosion or a land mine going off. It scared the bear enough that it started running. The land there is completely flat and featureless and the bear was gone on the horizon as a speck in a matter of minutes. We didn’t want it near our camp.

My cousin and I went for a walk later, we came across the big claw marks of the adult polar bear in the mud and clay of the seashore. The marks were huge and it looked like it was made by a small backhoe or tractor. Clean cut marks from four huge claws with each limb. We were impressed and measured them with our feet and hands and head. We said to ourselves, hey this thing could tear us apart in seconds.

It was then that we realized, we about an hour long walk back to camp, we’re alone and this bear could reappear at any moment and come running or even just walk fast at us from far away in a matter of minutes. All we had were shotguns to go bird hunting and we were just 16 year old kids. And we couldn’t really walk fast in the muddy clay and tundra marsh where we were.

If the bear had been anywhere near us that day … we would have been one of those little box newspapers stories of two teens that got killed by a bear in the northern wilderness.