Yes and no, you are killing it for it’s meat but you are not starving at the moment…
Are they saving it for later or
bio why are you talking like a visual novel horror game, this is scary
Before you are two doors, one of them leads to one million dollars, but the other one takes you to the scrongdongulator…
You’re on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path, is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a… deer?
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Alright since Forums isn’t allowing me to quote, I’ll make a separate reply. It depends; are you feeding others with said meat? I’d say it’s your moral right as long as the purpose means you’re saving your own (or others’) blood by spilling theirs.
me when your image does not load (or video/gif)?
idk what the issue is, it’s a tenor gif this time instead of discord one so idk
Tenor’s banned in Pakistan I assume, that’s probably the issue.
yes it is
Don’t forget to pick up the pristine blade perched on the table!
I’ve often thought of this. I believe the difference between killing, and an action being done for survival is done off of intent.
Let’s say we aren’t starving. But, now we don’t have to buy food. While, yes, we could’ve just bought some food, we know we can use every piece for something. It’s a shame, but it is the circle of life, things die so others can live.
I’d say it’s moral in some cases. I have an uncle who used to hunt often, and that was because he didn’t really have money coming in steadily. This started when he would fish when he was in the Navy with his fellow navy soldiers.
This is a philosophical debate, it’s always difficult. When do we no longer have the right to take a life, when are we just being psychotic? Well, to survive in nature, a lack of morality must be present. I mean, it’s legal to eat other people’s bodies in the case of extreme risk.
I’d say it’s legal as long as you are sure you need it to survive. You aren’t acting out of malice, you are doing so because you need to.
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so what about hunting just because you can, or want some fresh food even though you could buy some
this hunting talk made me think of “WHY HUNT ANIMALS WHEN YOU CAN JUST BUY DEER MEAT FROM THE STORE!!! ITS CRUEL” 
Either way a deer is killed, why not do it by your hand?
at least this way, you make sure you can use every bit of it and not let it go to waste, like some Indigenous groups in Canada with the Buffalo
You know, I’ve been asked a few times why I’m so kind.
(Mods, it is okay if you take this down. I understand the content is darker than what I usually talk about. You’re just doing your job.)
So I’m going to tell you all a story. Of the first 15 years of my life. (trigger warnings for a LIST of things. I’m using the fact no one here knows me to tell some personal stuff, and say genuinely why I’m nice.)
I was born four months before I should’ve been. Nothing sparked it, I just wanted out. My mother was fine, but I was an “inconvenience since day one” as my Ma always says. I didn’t cook enough, giving me underdeveloped nerves, which only showed when I was about 7.
For some context, my mother, has Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. From when she had my oldest brother with her first husband to when I was two, it never showed. She was stable, it was this bubble of normalcy from her.
But when I was born, something happened because of me, because I was born that caused that bubble to pop.
I saw my floors clean for the first time when I was seven. My mother’s mental disorder made her hoard, buy things, and be… far from a fit mom. Though she, deep down loves me, I know she does, I don’t think she can correctly show it.
My sister and brothers blamed me for my mother’s… change. My brother and sister grew to watch things they didn’t understand online, while my oldest brother left the house for college.
When I was 4, my sister was eight.
She wanted to test if she was into boys.
She did so with me.
I wish I could say this is the first time this happened to me, but it happened multiple times in my life. My sister only ever did it once, thank god, but I was hardly alright.
When I told my mom, she didn’t get angry. She did the same.
I understand this an evil action. It haunts me every day, I will remember every damn touch anytime I look at them.
But I see them, and I know they aren’t bad people. I know my sister was coping with the trauma her own way. I know my mother isn’t to blame for her disorder.
By age 7, I became antisocial and the at home suffering I went through was showing. But no one cared. Teacher’s didn’t care, other kids bullied me.
Then I met Sock.
@sock , I remember first meeting you. You had crumbs all over your mouth. You wanted to play this make believe game I had about elements and I was so happy to finally have a friend.
You made the elementary years easy, my friend. I don’t think I would still be alive if I didn’t have you.
Third grade to my last year in public school was constant bullying. From mental torment, to me being physically hurt so bad, that I’d be afraid to go to school the next day.
The teachers never helped. I was never given a damn break. And then, a lovely fourth grade day happened.
I can only mention this briefly because of legality specifics, but I was stalked by a group of people who didn’t like that my family was Jewish that met my brother. They’d record me as I walked home.
So I didn’t walk home for a while.
But, life was still bad for me. Home wasn’t safe, school wasn’t safe, nowhere was safe. I became way too hyperaware, I was scared of touch in general, but I craved it, craved to be told I’m not a jinx, not a mistake. For years, I craved to just be hugged and for someone to be told they are proud of me.
sixth Grade, I went to middle school. I was lucky enough to not be the only guy (little did I know, I was hardly cisgender) in chorus. And I met Bennet. My first boyfriend.
Bennett was… interesting. A war nerd, nice to me, always nice, and made me feel loved, like I always wanted.
But he wasn’t always nice. He praised a certain era of Germany to me when I’m Jewish, he would get too… aggressive with how he’d be affectionate.
One time, we walked on a trail together. I can’t go on this trail anymore. Everytime I do, I see every single thing he did. I can’t forget a single touch.
But I stayed with him. Because he still loved me.
Around this time, my mother grew… aggressive with eating. Everything was too many calories. So… A New Challenger approaches… Anorexia!
For two years, he’d hand me drinks that would taste funny, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything in response.
I struggle to go in people’s basements now. Because the smell of a basement alone makes me get a panic attack. Because I’m back there, I’m back in a dark basement where I’d be ruined.
In eighth grade, I luckily had the saving grace of him moving away, my mother growing strict and unkind and not letting me leave the house.
I was, as sad as it was, safe from him, but still not safe.
Coming freshman year, my therapist diagnosed me as hyper"secual" as a trauma response. She thought I had Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I met Kenzie at the beginning of 2023. She was nice, so sweet.
She got me into substances.
But even I knew, even if we were long distance, substances shouldn’t take over your relationships.
I broke up with her.
I don’t know what happened to her. I hope she’s okay now. I feel horrible, because I heard she had OD’d once. If she’s dead, that’s… that’s on me.
After all that, I’ve realized that my sister wasn’t evil. Hell, we get along now, she’s being an amazing big sister. I’ve realized My mama is just not to blame for being this way. It’s her disorder. I’ve realized Kenzie needed support, not a partner.
That’s why I’m kind. Because I see that people can be hurt, and they will hurt other’s for control.
I skipped out on certain things, like things with my brother, the fights, my body being conditioned to expect pain on every touch.
I’ve been conditioned to expect pain, harm, touch I don’t want. I was hugged for the first time in two years by a friend this year and I was scared, because I wasn’t used to gentle affection.
So I’m kind so no one else feels this way. No one else feels broken, feels ruined, feels like a Jinx or a shell of who they once were.
Sorry for the traumadump. I just felt like I should finally share what I experienced, because I’ve gotten questions if I’m okay, and my “how to stop a panic/anxiety attack” is a bit too exact.
Remember to eat, drink water, and rest, people. I’m here for you.
I will say, starting sophomore year, I got into a friend group I feel comfortable and welcomed in - with people who care. It’s a foreign feeling, still, but I love them all. And once again, Sock, thank you for being my friend for this long. I wouldn’t be alive without you.
(Also, yes, attempts were done. 6 to be exact.)
ALSO, I’ve been sober for almost three weeks, had a slip up thanksgiving, but I’m doing fine.
Also, if anyone’s curious, a fun result of this combination of trauma (abandonment issues, mommy AND daddy issues, assault trauma, and more) I will hear my depression and my thoughts take the voices of people who’ve hurt me. As in I will think “i’m not good enough” and hear my damn ma saying it to me.
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My only response is the crying emoji. I have no other words, you’ve baffled me with this sentence.