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I call this place the mouse house because distinguished mice live here. I have a shed with books that influenced me, and a list of my dogs on the door. I painted rocks blue to show where rivers once flowed. I started painting trees and ended up creating a whole forest. The best advice I've given is to eat, drink, and be merry.

The speaker states they are legally married but not currently looking for a relationship due to recent personal life issues. They claim to have "nothing" right now and are focused on finding themselves and being happy. The speaker expresses a desire to not be beholden to anyone at the moment, acknowledging feelings of loneliness but stating they have cats for company. The speaker then abruptly mentions red cars visible on the internet.

They want to keep us inside, separated, disconnected, deregulated, discombobulated, overstimulated, disorientated, and alienated. If our nervous systems were regulated and we relied upon our inner wisdom and the truth of the universe and nature, "they'd be fucked." We are disconnected from our bodies and each other, and externally stimulated to the highest degree, leaving us with no power. The speaker adds three things to their day: going outside, being in nature, and kundalini yoga. If "they" say something is dangerous, the speaker uses their discernment.

Excavation Pro describes living with overwhelming sensitivity and choosing to seal off those feelings. He says every cut went to the bone, every loss, every silence, leading to building “a door to nothing where that feeling just stays closed.” He now watches life with sounds muted, noting that his mother never calls “you sound different” and that his love for life is gone. He distinguishes this from depression or a crisis, describing a flat line as the piece and a life where “the volume’s down so low that even chaos seems to cease,” making it hard to feel real. He explains that it’s easier than feeling when the heart is fully numb, and that asking what he wants or needs yields silence while he digs his own grave. Relationships drift past, like ships, as he becomes “the afterimage fading to escape.” He speaks of quiet as addictive, with no highs to crash or lows to hide from, and he shrugs, saying he’s fine while burying emotion. The flat line remains the centerpiece; even chaos seems to cease as motion and emotion strain his chest. He admits that missing takes emotion where pain wants to exist, so he keeps the dial buried in static, opening the channel only to let pain exist briefly, then retreating. He describes living fast because the clock felt short, making choices as if tomorrow would abort. He didn’t save, plan, or belong to a world that cared, surviving on scams and borrowing time, breaths, and days he didn’t earn. Now at 30 with nowhere left to turn, he faces a future he didn’t prepare for or expect, with no road map or five-year plan, just the shock of existing. He compares himself to friends on five-year tracks with mortgages and children, while he sees years that won’t come back. He reflects on others who seem to know they’ll be where they are, who have roots and growth, while he never planted roots because he assumed the ground would shake and never said forever because forever felt fake. He feels like a self-destructed scheme, disoriented, standing in a future he never thought he’d do. Each birthday feels less like cake and more like death, as if stealing from a timeline that already left. He notes the looming question of what he’ll do with a life he didn’t plan, and describes borrowed time, quitting, and leaving as his only mastered skills. He contrasts a version of himself who didn’t have his habits, hollow gaze, and guarded love with a stranger’s kiss and a family that calls, not to borrow, but to trauma dump. He recognizes that he’s the one who holds the raft up for everyone else, while his own walls crumble and no one sees the strain. He presents himself as a person who shows up for others, keeping the cracks hidden, ensuring the illusion of control remains intact. He acknowledges multiple versions—at work, with friends, family, lovers—none of which truly feel like him. He ends with the image that he’s the only one who carried home the fight, a ghost in the world, while others move on, leaving him to bear the weight alone.

Many people suppress their potential due to fear of others' opinions, something the speaker identifies with from personal experience. The speaker advises that overcoming this fear is crucial, because people are generally less concerned with you than you imagine. Furthermore, the speaker claims that some people will only show affection if you suppress your true self.

The speaker expresses difficulty obtaining food while working and earning little. If they could change things, they would want a chair, plenty of clothes and shoes, and enough food. They also desire a place of their own, so they wouldn't have to worry about other people as much.

I couldn't sleep, so I took a drive around Joburg and realized why I feel both fulfilled and lonely. I enjoy my trips and activities, but I struggle to find companionship. I keep hoping for a relationship, but it hasn't happened in seven years. No matter how hard I work or what I achieve, I still feel empty at home and in bed. All my emotions and thoughts seem trapped inside me.

As a child, the speaker daydreamed about girls constantly. The first time they flew in an airplane alone felt heavenly, as good as masturbation. Something frightening that happened on a plane was losing an erection, which they always got when flying. When asked about their family, the speaker confirmed their family was affectionate while growing up. They were then asked about special memories of their family.

A person received an email from someone struggling to wake up early and go to the gym. The speaker relates to this struggle, stating they had the same problem when they were 24 and began to study it. The speaker then states their kid was crazy and they were being a "bitch". The speaker's advice is to "get your ass up and race them up. Stay hard."

Even though the moment passed, the speaker can't turn away because dreams and things were lost or thrown away. Now grown up, they don't belong to anyone, which is a shame. The speaker invites someone to hop beside them for a while, promising not to reveal their name. Scars are souvenirs you never lose, and the past is never far. The speaker asks if the listener lost themself or became a star, and if it makes them sad to know life is more than who we are. They grew up too fast and now there's nothing to believe. Reruns become history, and a tired song plays on the radio. The speaker repeats that they won't tell the listener's name.

The speaker says the best way to communicate is to be real and talk about what people care about. They admire that the host's voice and show are about the listeners. The speaker believes people want to feel seen, heard, and part of a community, especially now. They are glad to be on the show.

Many people look up to the speaker, who acknowledges the difficulty of their role. They find solace in moments of silence and solitude, particularly in the early morning when there are no sounds or people around. During this time, they enjoy reading, thinking, and listening to music, particularly ACDC. The speaker finds energy and motivation from music, often incorporating it into their morning workouts. They consider it a miracle that provides them with energy for the entire day.

The speaker talks about content and how people try to compete with each other. They mention that money is not important and they are always busy. They also mention that they are successful and haven't failed yet. They talk about being a classic and how people realize it later. They mention someone's red ears and their real father. They end by saying to watch their smile and explore a feature.

The speaker expresses extreme frustration with knowing too much. They envy those who are blissfully ignorant and wish they could unlearn certain things. They lament being unable to trust conventional systems like doctors, schools, and the IRS due to their knowledge. They distrust the food supply, feel surveilled by technology, and are stressed by the political climate. They question the weather and have a negative physical reaction to mainstream media. The speaker mentions a belief that aliens are coming in November and expresses a desire for an event like the rapture to end their suffering. Ultimately, they wish to be ignorant and want people to stop sharing information with them.

I enjoy staying up late and waking up around noon, appreciating my child-free life. My mornings are spent reading letters from readers, and I often reflect on my long-standing obsession with my college ex. I worry about those who write in, feeling the weight of my words. Living in New York would overwhelm me with dating, so I retreat to the woods to find clarity. I call my home The Mouse House, where I share space with distinguished mice. My childhood books and a list of my dogs adorn my shed. Inspired by a dry riverbed, I began painting the rocks blue, eventually transforming the entire forest around me. When asked for advice, I simply say: eat, drink, and be merry.

Earlier this year, the speaker told her husband she wanted a divorce after ten years of marriage, a decision she kept secret from family and friends. While she loves her husband's admirable personal qualities, her expectations for their marriage are unmet, and she feels unable to be herself. The speaker and her husband are approaching their tenth anniversary and a trip to Mexico where they plan to rewrite their vows. She is struggling to write them, feeling that little has changed since she first raised the issue of divorce. Although she could seek the love she craves elsewhere, she is unwilling to face those hardships and wants to work on the relationship. Since the initial discussion, the speaker started a business, and her husband quit his job, leading to significant life changes. She is seeking advice on how to improve her marriage and is open to suggestions, including therapy, books, and podcasts. She doesn't want to look back in ten years with no progress.

The speaker encourages listeners to learn and become acquainted with themselves. They express a desire for listeners to enjoy comfort and discover that their sense of being covered continually increases.

I live in a place called the mouse house, where distinguished mice like Kahneman and Taburski reside. I have a shed filled with books that influenced me. On the door, I have a list of my dogs' names. I once painted rocks blue to represent a dried-up river. Then I started painting trees and eventually created a whole forest. When asked for the best advice I've given, I replied, "Eat, Drink, and be merry."

The transcript centers on a transformative purge of an old self and the fierce emergence of a self reclaimed from abuse, fear, and people-pleasing. - The speakers frame a process of excavation and burial of the weak, pleaser version of the self. "Bury me. Bury the weak version. I don't know him anymore." The idea is echoed: "I killed the old me, dug the grave with my own hands. No mourners, no flowers, no one understands." The old self is described as the version that begged for acceptance and learned to choked him out, becoming a sentence and a eulogy written on a fogged mirror. - The transformation is depicted as a hard-won resurgence. "Watch my weakness fade. Watch my fears run out of steam." The speaker renounces past apologies: "Every sorry that I gave to people who never earned it. Buried with the bones of the man who never learned his worth." The line "You want the nice guy, he's deceased. RIP to the pleaser, rest in peace." marks a decisive break from the old persona. - The new self is sharp, dangerous, and self-sufficient. The refrain: "I rose from the ashes, not the same creature. Harder smile, colder eyes, sharper features." The speaker emphasizes a move from softness to strength, with lines like "I'm the lesson that you skipped, now you're watching from the bleachers while I burn the whole script." Bridges burned light the path forward; knives once in the back are now discarded. Forgiveness becomes a matter of forgetting the presence of others: "I don't forgive, I just forget you exist." - The dialogue shifts between multiple voices. The second speaker adds layers: "Buried a nice guy in an unmarked grave. No tears, no speech, no soul to save." They critique apologies as insufficient and assert a hard-won independence: "Best thing I ever did was kill that fad." The imagery extends to ashes and reclaimed power: "This me, the one who finally saved himself." A through-line is the resolve to address harm through self-preservation and boundaries rather than seeking external validation. - The text deepens into a confrontation with toxicity and the consequences of emotional withholding. "Some people deserve a second chance. Some deserve poison. No antidote." The cure for apologies is framed as insufficient when venom remains: "Was the cure for Apologies don't work when the venom's in the vein." The speaker confesses becoming toxic and forcing others to confront consequences: "Now you're nauseous. Should've thought about that Before you cross this, let them in the final you're world." - A broader narrative emerges of reclaiming agency: "You wanted a monster, now you got her. Bite down. Taste familiar? You made this. Everything I used to be." The speakers describe shedding old skins, from old life too tight to breathe to new scales and rules. "New scales, new rules. You kiss the on me, now you kiss the banks too." The process is painful but empowering; the fresh skin signals learning to trust, tempered by a warning that the learned hardness can choke if misused. - The latter portions address ongoing psychological struggle and resilience. Letters to family and loved ones reveal detachment from past hurts: "Dear dad, you built a house but never a home." Therapy is recommended as acknowledgment of need: "Book a therapist. My heart used to be open. Now it's inheritance. Left to no one, kept for myself." The speakers acknowledge gratitude for mental health as the strongest asset: "Best thing I ever hoarded was my mental health." The closing tension remains: coping with trauma, medications, and the ongoing work of healing, with a sense that the journey continues even as the self is redefined.

I enjoy staying up late and waking up around noon, avoiding the morning routines that others follow. I've been writing an advice column for 25 years, inspired by Anne Landers and Dear Abby. My role is to support people through their struggles, learning from their letters more than any literature. The questions remain consistent: people seek love, success, and purpose. I worry about the impact of my advice, as it can change lives. I find clarity away from the chaos of New York City, often retreating to my shed, where I reflect on my influences and experiences. My best advice? Simply, "Eat, drink, and be merry."

Speaker 0 describes a life filled with noise, chaos, and longing for something steady. When the other person enters, they bring a calm that quiets the loud parts and accepts him as he is, without performance or pretense. This person doesn’t try to tame the storm inside him; instead, they sit with him, offer water, and wait for his show to pass, becoming “the calm in the chaos” he has needed. He acknowledges that many have noticed the other person’s presence, but he wants the version of them when no one is watching—tired, real, and genuine. He admires the way they move through a room with effortless grace, not because they try too hard but because they are simply themselves. Speaker 1 adds that they want to see the real person behind the surface—the details often overlooked, the small moments that reveal character. They express a desire to be the one who sees the real you, not the loud, attention-seeking version. They emphasize honesty over loudness, stating they’re not aiming to be flashy but true. Speaker 0 continues, noting they don’t require the other to entertain or impress; he’s convinced by the authenticity and by the undressing of layers and roles. He seeks quiet moments over highlight reels, wanting to feel the version of the other person when they’re human and real. He describes the attraction found in natural presence rather than forced performance. Speaker 1 echoes that sentiment, observing that others fall over themselves to be seen, while they see the woman the crowd rarely notices. They are not trying to be loud but to be true, and they want to know the details of the other person—their coffee, their shoes, their thoughts, the dreams they’ve been afraid to chase. They express a willingness to listen and learn, offering to carry some of the burdens and to be present without pressing for next steps. The conversation moves toward a deliberate, unhurried pace. They reject the chase for drama and emphasize choosing each other with clarity, intent, and patience. They prefer a healthy rhythm, space, and the idea that the best things grow slowly. They refuse to rush toward a conclusion or a rushed future, choosing instead to savor the moment and build a foundation “no rush, just enjoy the ride.” Throughout, both speakers reaffirm that the other person is the steady presence in their lives—the calm in the chaos, the healing and the home they had been seeking. They aim to be present, to learn every detail, and to nurture a connection that lasts beyond the moment. Excavation Pro. Pro. Pro.

I call this place the Mouse House where distinguished mice like Kahneman and Taburski live. My shed holds books that influenced me. The door lists my dogs' names. I painted rocks blue to show where rivers once flowed. I painted trees and a forest. The best advice I've given is to eat, drink, and be merry.