Anonymous venting

There’s a heaviness in living a life that no longer feels like your own, a script I keep reading aloud, even as the words crumble in my mouth. We’re together, not for love, but for convenience—a fragile, lifeless thread binding us to a home that feels more like a stage.

If I were to leave, the company would fall apart. If he were to leave, the foundation of this house we’ve built would vanish. And so, we stay—partners in duty, strangers in love.

This home is not a sanctuary for my heart. My tears fall unnoticed, my sadness stirs no concern. It doesn’t matter if I cry, if I ache, or if I feel invisible. Here, respect is fleeting, care is transactional, and love appears only when it serves him. I am the pillar holding this family aloft—the financial support, the stepping stone. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t show just how much he resents me.

And yet, the thought of leaving terrifies me. In the culture I come from, divorce is a scarlet letter, a brand that whispers “failure,” “outcast,” “whore.” Here, it feels as though it’s always the woman who must keep the peace, who must sacrifice herself at the altar of family, no matter how much it hurts. That burden sits heavy on my shoulders, pressing me into silence.

Then there’s our child—our beautiful, innocent child who looks at us and sees something I can no longer feel. He sees “loving parents.” What are we teaching him? That love doesn’t matter as long as you stay? That a hollow home is better than a broken one? One day, he’ll grow up. One day, he’ll understand. And I dread the moment he looks at us and thinks, Mom and Dad stayed together because of me, but there was no love. The thought of that realization shatters me.

Am I raising him in a home that is whole, or a home that is empty? What lessons about love, about self-worth, are we leaving him with? And yet, I can’t bring myself to drag his tiny heart through the chaos of courtrooms, through the wreckage of a family torn apart.

So here I am, trapped in this endless limbo—afraid to stay, afraid to leave. Afraid of what the world will say, of what my child will feel. This fear, this sadness, this weight—it’s my constant companion.

I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know if there’s a way out, or if this is simply my fate. But I carry this story every day, and I needed to release it, even if just into the void.

To anyone walking this same fragile, uncertain path—know that you’re not alone.

Hi, just call me X. This is my first time venting. I found this online space in my desperation to find somewhere I could just shout everything out. At least, even if it’s virtual, it feels like a release. I’ll also be honest—I’m using ChatGPT to refine my sentences so they’re clearer for anyone who might read this and find it relatable. I might be posting more, who knows?

Have you ever felt like no matter how hard you try to change, no one around you notices or cares? It’s exhausting to keep adjusting yourself, hoping to meet their expectations, only to have them keep seeing you as the same person you were before. Even the people you trust the most—the ones who should understand—seem stuck on who they think you are. It’s like they’ve decided they know you too well, so every action you take gets misinterpreted through that lens. You’re out here making all this effort to grow and meet their needs, but it feels like no one even acknowledges how much you're trying. It’s draining, and honestly, it makes you wonder if it’s even worth it.

Ok so I’m 15 and my grandmother makes me take a bunch of alternative medicines and vitamins and mainly stuff with ashwagandha in it and since she’s been making me take these things with ashwagandha I’ve had absolutely horrible emotional numbness so much to the point were my childhood cat passed away and the very next day we got another cat I only felt a very small amount of sadness and it was very confusing I thought I was a bad person for not feeling incredibly sad and I just it is so bad I genuinely don’t feel sad or happy or just anything now and I’ve been having very frequent headaches and it sucks but literally just tonight when I saw that my stuff to help me sleep has ashwagandha in it I decided to look it up and wow for the first time in a long time I don’t feel like I’m insane I feel like I’ve lost a couple years of my life but tomorrow I’m going to show my grandma the research I’ve done and tell her I won’t be taking anything with ashwagandha in it anymore. Wish me luck .

Growing up, I thought that I had ambition to pursue whatever it is that I wanted. I bought into the illusion that if I evolved into an educated person, I could succeed in whatever I do. That was when I thought all else was equal.

As I grew older, the more I learned about my place in the world. After I reached for my family's tax returns to file for college financial aid, I became almost obsessively aware of poor we were and how much I was so much different my peers at school. I did a good job of hiding it, but I was deeply insecure of how my background compared to other people. This shame carried onto my time in college, where I became reclusive because of my own comparison of myself with the people I met.

My family has never really went on a vacation; we own a house so small that my brother has to set his bed in the living room; our house freezes in the winter because of window drafts and high heating costs; I purposely stay on campus longer than I need to so that I don't have to feel cold at home; my dad has a gambling addiction. In elementary school, I stole books because books were too expensive to purchase; we don't celebrate my family members' birthdays or any major holidays because of the expenses.

Themore and more time goes by, I feel my self-confidence slipping as I compare myself with other people. It feels like my starting line is below sea level, and I'm drowning.

so today my brother asked my dad if it was fine for him to go to the beach with my mom instead of going to the gathering with my dad. my dad for some reason flipped out and got so angry. he called my mom and screamed at her for 1-2 hours. my mom was already at the beach but didn’t have time to enjoy anything whatsoever. later on the dinner table my dad was telling my siblings and i about how his dad (my grandfather) threw a hammer at him for disrespecting him. my dad explained saying “i never once regretted what my father did to me because it made me a real “man””. he went to the nearby table where my brother placed his electronics, picked his nintendo up and slammed it into the ground. everything shattered and my siblings and i were so shocked and scared. my mom as well. some of my sisters started crying and yelling at my dad which caused me to cry aswell. my dad took my brothers phone and slammed it on the floor aswell. my dad acted shocked that we were crying. he said we are over reacting and whatever. they explained to him that these aren’t normal things that he is doing. and that we have been suffering from him ever since we were kids. he told us to say what was in our hearts. what we have been holding for our entire life. when it came to me? i just couldn’t say anything. i told him that. that i have nothing to say. but in reality i wanted to tell him i much i hated him and how much i wanted him to die. but based on what he did to my sisters. i know if i say something he will just keep going and trying to make me the wrong one. when it came to my youngest sister to speak she said that what he is doing is so childish. my dad looked like he wanted to kill her. talking about how “rude” she is. mind you we were all crying at this point. after everything that happened he took the rest of my brothers electronics and went down to his office. we started bursting into tears next to our mother and then we heard a slam, then another. he actually broke my brothers ipad and playstation. we went to my oldest sister’s room and stayed there while my mother went to talk to my dad. we sat for about 40 minutes when he came up to the room and sat down acting like he did nothing wrong. talked to us calmly. about how he wont changed. and this is our luck that we got a dad like him. before he left he told my brother that he will take my brother’s tv and break it as well. he also said that what happened and what we did to stand up for my brother is “wrong” and that we should repent. my mom later went down to the living room to go away from all the disasters but my dad followed her there and started fighting again. this is when i’m writing this. it’s currently 3am and all i hear is screaming. tbh i’m kind of relieved to hear my mom scream. i’m always scared that one day it will stop. and i would come down with her laying on the floor with blood everywhere. i just feel like my dad would do something like that.

in my dad’s defense he said that my brother is not a “man” because he can’t “talk/speak” well like the other kids. but then he told my sister that she should stop comparing him to other dads because it will only bring her pain. and i’ve had a habit of recording anytime my dad screams. so as soon as he started i hid my phone under the table and recorded everything. as you can tell it’s not his first time doing something like this. not to this extent ofc but once when my brother was 9-10 my dad wanted to teach him how to ride a bicycle. after a while of my brother failing my dad hit him over and over until my brother peed himself.

i’m so tired. so tired. i’m still i minor and so are my siblings except my oldest sister. my dad claims that what he is doing is the right way of teaching us. he sees us as a disappointment. i don’t know what to do. my mother tried divorcing so many times but she couldn’t. i’m dying inside. i want to die and end it all. but then again. i would bring shame to this family for killing myself. because in my dad’s eyes, he did mothing wrong.

so tell me is my dad wrong? is he abusive? if so what kind? am i being brainwashed washed into thinking this is the only right way? what can i do to stop this? i’m so tired and i son’t know what to do.

For the longest time, I’ve been stuck in this cycle of excuses. I’d wake up every morning telling myself I’d make changes, that today would be different, but by the time the day ended, I was back to square one. Whether it’s eating healthier, exercising, or even just cleaning my space, I keep putting it off. I’d tell myself, "I’ll start tomorrow," but tomorrow never seems to come.

Yesterday was my breaking point. I was scrolling through social media and saw an old friend post about running their first marathon. I remember how we used to run together, how much I loved it back then. And now? I can’t even jog up the stairs without feeling winded. It hit me like a ton of bricks—what am I even doing with my life? Why do I keep finding reasons to avoid what I know I need to do?

I looked around my apartment after that. Clothes piled up on the floor, dishes in the sink from who-knows-how-many days ago, and a gym membership card collecting dust on the counter. That’s when it finally clicked—it’s time to stop. It’s time to stop avoiding the hard stuff, time to stop pretending everything will fix itself, and time to stop being my own worst enemy.

I don’t have a perfect plan yet, and honestly, I’m scared I’ll slip back into my old habits. But I know I can’t keep going like this. If I don’t make a change now, when will I? Maybe writing this out will help me stay accountable. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re feeling stuck too, maybe it’s time to stop and take the first step. We’ve got this.

Hey everyone, I’m not usually one to air my personal stuff, but I really need some advice here. For the past few months, I’ve had this gut feeling that my wife might be cheating on me, and it's eating me alive. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the signs are starting to pile up, and I’m just not sure what to do.

It all started when she began staying late at work more often. At first, I didn’t think much of it—she’s always been dedicated to her job. But then, she became super protective of her phone. She used to leave it lying around, but now she keeps it close and seems to be on it all the time, even at odd hours. And when I casually ask about her day, her answers feel...vague? Like she’s hiding something.

Then there are the little things. She started dressing up more than usual, even just to “run errands” or meet friends. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone. I’ve tried to brush it off, telling myself I’m being paranoid, but every time I bring it up, she gets defensive or says I’m just being insecure. It makes me feel like maybe I’m overthinking, but part of me feels like my concerns are valid.

To make things worse, I found a receipt for a fancy dinner that she said was a "work thing," but I know her company usually doesn’t do dinners like that. I keep second-guessing myself, and now I’m stuck in this loop of anxiety. I don’t want to accuse her without solid proof, but I also can’t keep living in this uncertainty.

So here I am, asking for advice. Has anyone else been through this? How do you confront someone you love without it turning into a huge fight? Should I even bring it up again, or am I just being paranoid? Any advice would be appreciated—I feel like I’m losing my mind here.

I've come to the harsh realization that perhaps, I'm not the nicest person around. In my mid-thirties, I find myself surrounded only by a single friend and a girlfriend, yet I can't shake the feeling that I'm somehow superior to others. My lifestyle is quite reclusive; I shy away from any social gatherings related to work, and most of my routine revolves around my job, hitting the gym, smoking weed, and cycling. Traveling and cycling in the forest are my escapes, the rare times I don't feel swamped by depression.

Interacting with people, especially in groups, is a daunting task for me. The fear of turning red-faced and being judged negatively is always lurking. Thus, I avoid such situations altogether. There's a worrisome intensity in the way I live; I indulge too often in alcohol or getting high, viewing people merely as elements that enhance my own existence. My eyes wander too freely, admiring every attractive woman I come across, often blatantly flirting in the presence of my girlfriend. Even though these thoughts are never vocalized, I often catch myself belittling others or feeling utter disdain towards them internally.

I confess to being a staunch atheist, holding a disdainful view towards those who are spiritually inclined, believing myself to be smarter, better-looking, and stronger. The resentment builds whenever I see someone possessing what I desire, although I manage to keep this anger bottled up within.

Dominating these emotions is a profound sense of isolation, mixed oddly with a perverse comfort in wallowing in my misery. Sometimes, hurting my own feelings seems like a twisted form of pleasure, perhaps because it means feeling something at all.

My family background does little to lighten my outlook. My brother lives with the dark shadow of being a murderer and a former heroin addict. My father was a violent man, devoid of emotions, who ultimately took his own life. My mother, afflicted by illness so severe that she has been bedridden since my childhood, sparks a guilt within me for not taking care of her. However, I've chosen a path of self-preservation as dedicating myself to her care would consume my own existence entirely.

This life I've crafted for myself is one I despise, yet a part of me feels I shouldn't. With a good education, a well-paying job, and an undeniable appeal to women, I should feel fulfilled. Instead, I’m left feeling empty and, frankly, disgusted with myself for sounding like a self-pitying fool. What the hell is wrong with me?

Despite my efforts not to belittle others overtly, the impression that people don’t like me is hard to shake off. Loneliness is a constant companion.

If I were to join a reality show, my character might be polarizing. Would the audience appreciate my brutally honest introspections, or would they be repelled by my self-confessed arrogance and emotional detachment? It's intriguing yet terrifying to ponder how my persona would unfold under the constant scrutiny of cameras and a public audience.

I chose the friendship stories category but yeah it's related to friendship, love, family, work... I am like that.

I grew up in a very religious family where our faith has always guided our lives and choices. The teachings I’ve known my whole life tell me that being gay is wrong, and yet, I feel these undeniable attractions that make me question everything. I’ve tried to push it down, to change, to pray it away, but it’s always there, a part of me I can’t ignore.

I don’t know how to reconcile my beliefs with who I am. It feels like every day, I’m torn between two worlds: the expectations of my family and faith, and the reality of my own heart. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Is this something I can change, or should I even try? I’ve heard so many opinions, but deep down, I just want to know if I can truly be at peace with both my faith and myself.

If anyone has gone through something similar, or if you have advice, I’d really appreciate hearing from you. I feel so lost and alone in this struggle, and I just need someone to help me see a way through this.

Being a mom is the most rewarding and terrifying thing I’ve ever done. My little girl is only two years old, but every single day, I find myself wondering: am I doing enough? How to be a good mother when it feels like there’s so much to figure out?

Some days, I feel like I’m nailing it. We play together, she laughs at my silly songs, and I can see how happy she is. But then there are moments when I feel like I’m completely failing. Like yesterday, when I lost my temper because she spilled juice on the carpet after I told her three times not to run around with her cup. She cried, and it broke my heart because all I could think about was, “What kind of mom yells at a two-year-old over juice?”

I read parenting blogs and watch videos on how to raise happy, confident kids, but it’s overwhelming. There’s so much advice out there, and half of it feels contradictory. Be strict, but not too strict. Let them explore, but set boundaries. Make healthy meals, but don’t stress if they eat nuggets and fries once in a while. I’m trying to do it all, but is that even possible?

I see other moms who seem to have it all together—perfectly dressed kids, Pinterest-worthy lunches, and spotless homes. Meanwhile, I’m just proud if I can get her to daycare on time with matching socks. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re struggling too and just hiding it better.

I love my daughter more than anything, and I want her to grow up feeling loved, supported, and safe. But how do I know if I’m doing it right? Is there some magic formula on how to be a good mother, or is it just about showing up every day and doing your best?

If anyone has advice or has felt this way too, I’d love to hear it. I’m trying so hard, but some days it feels like I’m just fumbling through.