Anonymous Venting for Mental Health and Emotional Support

I am so fucking done living in this body that is tearing itself apart but refuses to die. Most of the time its manageable. Enough to make me believe that maybe im capable of what ive always dreamed. But one bad day. One missed dose. And im reminded of how horribly my body wishes to be rid of me.

It starts at my core spreading like a fungus. Spreading through every part of me and refusing to do the very thing its designed to do. To keep every part alive. To keep me alive. And it just fucking wont. It chips away from the inside. Trying to chip my soul away from my body. Digging my ribs away from the muscle. Feeling like pieces are snapping and stabbing in ways I'll never be able to fix. The blackness, the whiteness, the stars that overtake me if i dare to raise my head. Im fighting with myself to control any part of my body. My arms often being the last thing standing. My legs gave way long ago and my torso was never there to begin with.

I am pulling myself up with every ounce of strength i have  to be back on the ground but not even here am i safe. Everything moves. All of existence moves and spins in a dance that i cannot appreciate. I spin and tilt in a cruel carnival no matter if my eyes are open or shut.

Then for a moment I see with clarity. As if im faking it. Yeah im faking it. Its all in my head theres nothing wrong with me. My vision steady and everything normal. But i know the truth. Im not faking it. I wish that i were. Because people's bodies dont crush in on themselves for a little attention. And I dont what's worse. The problem itself or the little moments of calm in the middle that remind me of what could be. Because just as suddenly as the moment is there. Its gone.

Laying on the floor i know where i am because if i stand up i wont know. I wont know who or what i am. Because no matter how hard i try im forced to the ground in one way or another. By choice or by force.

It might ignorable. I could pretend i really chose to ɓe low as possible. If it werent for the sounds. They never stop. Every hum of electricity, trickle of a tap, the brush of a hand on something. Its amplified. I cant stand it. Every sound this existence offers becomes a cacaphony i cant drown out. It builds and builds while im screaming inside. I try but theres no escape. Not really.

Just to press salt in the wound my body has created in my soul, it adds nausea to the mix. Because what fucking sadistic asshole wouldnt. Wracking my insides. Rarely actually puking. But a dry heaving for hours. Unyielding. My stomach is forced into my lungs if i dont use every fiber of my being to control it.

I wish that any part could be the end of it. But no, my body says. Not allowed to die.

Im dying but not allowed to die.

Its not as if I havent tried before. Or that it hasnt tried before. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. A bathtub, a mask, a gun, a heart attack.... Im not afraid of death. Ive stared into its eyes too many times to be afraid of it. But i am terrified of living. Living just two steps away of my body trying to forcibly split from my soul.

I wonder if all the joy ive felt before is worth it. If I can really build a future continuing to live like this? Will i bring children into this world and if I do how selfish would it be knowing that i may have given them a curse like me? Can I truly keep them safe if just like me their bodies are dying from the inside out? And I wonder selfishly if i'll ever be able to have kids at all. Because thats what i worry about of all things. If my body will ever be capable of doing the one thing i have ever truly wanted more than anything.

Allogations have made me fear for my safety. If there is no proof of wrongdoing, is my safety still at risk?

Hi I'm Aimee and I'm 13. I live in Singapore and I'm in a French school but the thing is I feel like I never belong there: Everyone of them is French or half French and I'm there left alone Chinese and Swiss feeling desperate every day. My hole life I felt like I was an outsider or even an underdog I never felt like I belong somewhere. Sometime my friends make jokes about where I came from and I know is just jokes but it make me feel really hurt sometime because I know that no matter how hard I try to be just like them I will never really belong anywhere and I can't even change school because there is no where else school where there speak French.

I sometime really feel trapped between different world and I belong in none of them. And that is not my only problems I also have family problems, injustice and all and sometime when I look at other families I can't help but feel jealous or sad or even angry that I couldn't have the same. And it's now that I realize how hate, anger, sadness all these negative feelings changes peoples and I can see how much I have changed too. I'm not longer that innocent, and happy child that I was and I think that many people have realized that and now I can too. My mental health is getting worse every day I don't think it will get any better soon. Now my only escape that has been keeping me from depression is my tv shows or movies.

I know it's not the best way and it also can make my mental health even worse but it really helped me escape the real world and be the light in so much darkness. But the worse part of it is that that only light that has been keeping me from depression is something that my parents don't know... I have been doing this for a while now and I really hate myself sometime for starting this because it's literally the best thing that I have right now and my parents don't know about it and they will be really mad at me but that's not what I'm afraid of the most: My series have really been my escape and my only escape if someone take it from me I am pretty sure that I'm going to fall in depression really badly and trust me really badly.

I just feel like I been living in a world where I don't really belong in it and my only escape is something that no one knows. I feel like I'm really fragile in this time and that i'm holding on to that one thing that can be taken from me anytime. I feel trapped and an outsider all the time and it really pains me.

TW slight mention of SH and suicidal thoughts

In the past I had some depressive like symptoms. I sh in many different ways and also had some kind of suicidal thoughts. I have gotten better over the last year because some issues I had with other people solved and everything is actually fine. I have been fine. Things have gotten better. However I feel like I am slipping again. I am slipping. The last days or weeks I feel worse and thoughts come back I hoped wouldn’t. I thought it would finally get better because I actually began to see a future for myself. Still the feeling is stronger that there isn’t anything. I suddenly notice that maybe I am the problem. Others care about me and are actually right in many situations but I just tell them off even yell and even am manipulative in some situations. The worst about is that they often then actually believe me and I do want to apologise but the words just don’t come out. I don’t make things better and just wallow in my despair. I try to. But I am not sure. I hurt myself again. It’s stupid. I don’t even know why. I somehow feel like it’s all part of my character, who would I be without my problems? I need that feeling of self-pity. I need to be able to fault others and yet I know that I don’t make it easy for others. I want to have friends and want to be close to others but I can’t share anything about myself. I want to have something genuine and yet I am jealous if they’re better than me or even feel worse than me. I just can’t feel empathy for them. Even while I am writing this I feel like I am reading off a script. That I am not being genuine.

[tw..? - sh, suicide, weight concerns, etc.]

idk how to preface this, honestly, but i've recently been struggling with light sh, bad body image, and a major fallout between me and a friend thats left me basically all alone.

for some background information, i'm 15, im in my second semester of freshman year, and in a all-girls-christian-catholic school widely dominated by straight MAGA girls (as a transmasc myself).

ive decided to group all my stories into one, so if you'd like to respond to a specific one over all of them, they'll just be numbered 1-3.

1) i have a track record of generally suicidal thoughts and ideas of harming myself. these have been going on for around two years, but i've never actually acted on it besides for two summers ago and now. i've began to (lightly?) cut on my hips. i've broken the skin but its never scarred. i find my story somewhat "invalid" due to the lack of any permanent marks over the years ive thought of this. i feel increasingly more guilty for doing this, but i find it an easy way to let go of the stress i have and any other thoughts despite it not being an addiction.

2) ive always known i'm somewhat bigger than most of my peers, atleast through my eyes. from fifth grade to now, my thoughts have always been plauged with the idea of being seen as "the fat friend", due to my height and weight (5'10, 153 pounds but ive recently dropped to 134 due to intermittent fasting). all of my friends constantly try to reassure me that i'm not overweight, but i cannot believe them due to the amount of fat on my lower stomach and thighs. i don't know how to stop this self-conciousness, even if ive tried to cope with it through larger clothes or staying inside whenever i can.

3) i text one person outside of school. yes, i speak to people in school, but after 3pm i have no one to speak to until the next school day. this friend has apparently been manipulating/emotionally abusing me (through other people's words, not mine), yet i struggle to get away from them. i'm terrified of falling out of touch due to sharing my identity and struggles with them, and they are HEAVILY suicidal which makes the fear doubled. ive struggled with the lack of communication we've had lately, and the break we've established (2 weeks). i have told my father that i feel increasingly lonely, and he's told me it's my fault for not branching out and speaking to other people. i am a person who's naturally introverted and awkward, and i assume i have some sort of undiagnosed social anxiety. i also struggle with social cues such as saying too little or too much, not knowing what people mean by words or body language, and what to do in most situations. he knows this about me but still insists i reach out (which i've tried to do), and i really just don't know what to do about it.

all of these situations together have made me consider overdosing, shooting myself, or jumping (sometimes all at once and sometimes at different times), but i know that i honestly wouldn't. ive also thought about trying to cut deeper or finding different items to use. idk how to stop these thoughts, and i feel bad talking about them due to my father making a LOT of money. i also refuse to speak to an adult due to the knowledge that i cannot share too much without being sent to a mental hospital.

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.

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.

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.

Got lots of love to give but no one wants to have it. They want the toxic ones.

I never thought I’d end up here, but here I am, dreading every single morning when my alarm goes off. I hate my job. There, I said it. I’ve tried to convince myself that it’s just a phase, that everyone feels like this sometimes, but it’s been almost a year, and nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten worse.

The work itself isn’t even that bad. I mean, it’s not what I’m passionate about, but it’s tolerable. The real problem is the people. My boss is one of those micro-managers who has to be involved in every tiny detail. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I’ll spend hours on a project, only for them to nitpick and make me redo the whole thing for no real reason. It’s exhausting and makes me feel like all my effort is pointless.

Then there’s the office culture—or lack of it. Nobody talks to each other unless it’s about work. Lunch breaks feel like detention, with everyone silently eating at their desks or scrolling through their phones. I tried to make friends when I first started, but everyone already seemed to have their little cliques. After a while, I just gave up.

What really gets to me, though, is the constant pressure. It’s like they expect us to give 110% all the time, but they don’t give anything back. Overtime is practically mandatory, but don’t expect a “thank you” or even acknowledgment for staying late. And forget about a raise or promotion—that’s a pipe dream. It’s hard not to feel bitter when you’re working so hard and getting nothing in return.

I keep telling myself I should just quit, but it’s not that simple. I’ve got bills to pay, and the job market isn’t exactly booming right now. Plus, there’s this tiny voice in the back of my head that keeps asking, “What if the next job is just as bad—or worse?” It’s like I’m stuck in this cycle where I hate my job, but I’m too scared to leave.

Even at home, I can’t seem to escape it. I’m constantly checking emails or stressing about the next deadline. It’s like my job has taken over my entire life, and I don’t know how to take it back. My family keeps telling me to just hang in there, but they don’t understand how draining it is. By the end of the day, I’m too tired to even think about applying for other jobs, let alone pursuing something I actually enjoy.

Sometimes, I wonder if it’s me. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this kind of work. Or maybe I’m being ungrateful because at least I have a job. But then I think about how miserable I am, and I can’t help but feel like there has to be more to life than this. Doesn’t there?

If anyone else feels this way, I’d love to know how you’re coping—or if you’ve managed to get out, how did you do it? Right now, I just feel stuck, and honestly, it’s hard to see a way forward. All I know is, I can’t keep living like this. Something’s gotta give.