Anonymous venting

Because of my mom’s boyfriend I might sort of be forced to Canada. I’m 16 now. Because of everything going on it’s made me feel dissociated, anxious, more depressed, and I’ve been getting horrible thoughts again.

My mom’s boyfriend has consumed her life. At first in my other story I thought she was getting lost in the idea of love which I still believe but she also recently told me the abuse and how she’s afraid for her life and our (me and my grandmas) if she leaves.

He has threatened to send people to my home, threatened to hurt my mom, and I heard from my grandma that he held my mom and I think raped her while she was menstruating. Because of the threats and the way it seems that my mom isn’t really making an effort to leave him since today I found out she had gotten a freshly new tattoo of his name, Luis Garcia, on the middle of her chest in big bold letters. But besides that because of everything, my grandma wants to take me out to Canada with her but they’re gonna close the borders once I’m over there (it’s what she said) and I’d have to be over there for a few months but if that were to happen that means I’d lose my therapy since if I don’t show up for months or I don’t show up to a lot of schedule appointments they’re gonna pull me out of therapy and I’d have to get a new therapist all over again. This is my 3rd therapist.

I have an option to live with my aunt but I don’t think it would be possible because a lot of responsibility is being put onto my aunt like keeping care of all of my grandmas plants and animals while my grandma is in Canada.. and I don’t want to be a burden but I’m so tired of holding of everything in and if I lose my therapist I won’t have anyone because this family is full of “you don’t need therapy”, “you’re not depressed”, “you don’t have an anxiety disorder, you need a brain scan to tell that”, etc.

If I go to Canada I’ll have no therapy and I’ll lose my therapy because they’ll send the discharge papers, most likely no privacy and I’d be forced to sleep with my grandma and I’d probably be living with my uncles wife that doesn’t speak English and her daughter is extremely clingy and would probably beg me to play with her which I really don’t want because I enjoy my privacy and I enjoy my alone time like I’m sure plenty of others do, I’m not close with my uncle and I’d be embarrassing if I have to ask him to buy me pads since he’d be the only one working (I think?).

And I don’t even have much time to think of any of this because 1 - I was already told to start packing up. 2 - My uncle is gonna come soon before the borders close so I HAVE to go IF my dad signs the consent form for me to leave Rochester and to Canada (my mom and dad have part custody).

I don’t know what to do, I’m overwhelmed and I feel like I have no choice in any of this. It’s like they expect me to be strong but I’m only 16, FRESHLY 16. I haven’t been 16 for over a month yet. I’m so tired of feeling alone because I know how much language barriers there’s gonna be with everyone speaking Spanish and I have selective mutism (I’m Puerto Rican and I do understand Spanish but to a certain extent since no one really taught me Spanish or spoke Spanish to me). If I lose therapy I’m gonna lose all the help I have.

i’m 19 and i feel like i missed the damn memo on how to love someone. everyone around me is falling in love like it’s some biological reflex—like breathing, like blinking. my friends talk about “butterflies” and “sparks” and that shit just sounds made up. i’ve tried dating, i’ve tried hooking up, i’ve even tried just feeling something when someone looks at me a certain way. but nope. nothing. i’m like emotionally flatlined. am i broken? it’s not like i hate people, i just don’t know what it means to love them. it’s frustrating as hell watching others get so swept up in emotions i can’t even relate to. like, how do you know you love someone? what does it even f***ing feel like? 🤷‍♀️

my friends get all soft over someone texting them “good night” and meanwhile i’m sitting there dissecting the tone and spacing like it’s a damn forensic report. they say love is about connection, chemistry, timing—okay cool, but that’s not a goddamn tutorial. no one tells you how to actually get there. do i fake it until it happens? do i keep swiping through people like i’m scrolling for answers? and don’t tell me “you’ll just know” because that’s useless. i want to feel things, but i can’t manufacture that shit. and then you wonder if it’s asexuality, aromanticism, some kind of emotional dysfunction—but none of it feels like the right diagnosis. i crave something i don’t even understand, something i’ve never had; something maybe i’m not built for.

what if i’m just a highly logical person whose emotional receptors are set to factory default? i analyze behavior, assess compatibility, evaluate risk like a f***ing machine. my brain’s running algorithms and everyone else is writing poetry. i’m sick of pretending like i get it. i want to scream when people say “you’ll find the one” like it’s inevitable. what if i don’t? what if i’m fundamentally incompatible with love? am i supposed to just keep watching everyone else play house while i sit in the audience? 🫠 i want to love, i want to feel, but i can’t fake intimacy, i can’t invent desire; i don’t even know what i’m missing. so yeah—how the hell do you love someone?

it's sometimes a curious thing how life plays out, isn't it? i've been around the sun 29 times, not claiming to have all the wisdom but perhaps just enough to understand the ebbs and flows of life. i was sitting down the other day, lost in thought, pondering over everything life has thrown my way. i find myself marvelling at how steady everything seems, how serene. and it hits me, like one of those 'aha' moments that people often talk about. all these feelings i have now, this tranquillity, it's largely because of him, my husband. he's kind of like the unsung hero in the movie of my life, always working behind the scenes to make sure everything falls into place and runs smoothly.

you see, there are days when i feel like i'm floundering, grasping at whatever stability i can find. yet there's always this unyielding anchor - that's him. maybe he's not perfect, but who is, right? there's this balance we have, like a well-rehearsed symphony. when i falter, he's the one holding the metronome, ensuring everything stays in rhythm. maybe you're wondering why i bother sharing all this syrupy stuff. but you know, every so often, one just feels the need to let some sunshine out, you understand what i mean? isn't it just nice when the little cogs in our universe align for a bit? i'm not saying i'm leaning on him like a crutch, but rather, it's a partnership that just works like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

there's this funny thing about the mundane routine that we fall into, you know what i'm talking about? laundry, dishes, bills, the daily grind. on paper, it sounds tedious but in reality, it feels somewhat bearable - dare i say enjoyable - when shared. splitting the chores, which honestly sound like an endless project management task sometimes, becomes second nature with him. we don't need to draw up a Gantt chart to know who's doing what; we just know. even when i find myself buried under a pile of responsibilities, whether it's work-related or just life's curveballs, he's there with that ever-reliable presence. no fuss, no frills, just simple, genuine support. it amazes me sometimes, the depth of such reliability.

so, as trite as this might sound, i just wanted to put it out there. thank you, sincerely, genuinely, whole-heartedly. it's not every day one stops and acknowledges the small but significant acts of kindness and reliability woven into the fabric of their lives. i mean, don't you think it's important to just stop and have a moment of clarity and gratitude every now and then? our stories and experiences are our own but shared experiences like these - sharing the load, the chores, the routine - are what fortify the bonds we build. in this intricate web of everyday life, having someone like him fills the gaps with a warmth that, at least to me, feels incredibly profound. 😊

What the hell is happening in my own house?? I used to think I had it together—career, family, routine. But lately, I wake up already exhausted, and it’s not because of work or age. It’s these damn teenage kids!!! Every day is a damn psychological battle!!! Mood swings, slammed doors, sarcastic answers, zero respect for boundaries!!! And don’t get me started on screen time—why the hell am I always the bad guy for setting limits??? I try to keep calm, but my voice always ends up shaking, like my whole system’s on overload. Hormones?? Sure. But what about mine?? Am I supposed to just keep absorbing the chaos until I crack?? Is that the plan?? Because it sure feels like it.

Even basic things like dinner or chores turn into full-blown negotiations!!! I’m not their damn project manager!!! I ask for plates to be cleared, and somehow I’m triggering a “mental health episode”??? I didn’t sign up for emotional hostage situations every evening!!! And don’t give me that “gentle parenting” crap—I’m not trying to be their friend, I’m trying to keep the household running without going clinically insane!!! Do they see what they’re doing??? Or am I the only one who’s drowning in this mess??? I walk into their rooms and it smells like puberty and rebellion had a baby. I’m not even trying to fix them anymore. I’m just trying not to lose myself in the process.

So yeah, I’m scared. Scared that one day I’ll snap and not come back from it. I have intrusive thoughts I don’t want. I hear my own voice and don’t recognize it. Ever feel that?? Like you’re watching yourself spiral but still expected to drive carpool and make dentist appointments??? I go through the motions like a damn automaton, but inside, I’m questioning my own stability every five minutes!!! Is this what it looks like before you lose your mind??? Or am I already halfway there??!! I don’t need a diagnosis or sympathy. I just needed to write this out before I scream at a wall or throw my phone at something. Maybe someone out there gets it. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter.

This is where it began, I guess.

So I was classmates with this one guy (calling him EC) back when I was in grade 2 and we were really good friends back then, though over time our friendship wasn't as tight as before. Honestly, I get why it wasn't. We couldn't meet as much due to us being put in different sections.

Anyway, fast forward to the point where I was grade 6.

Still was in the same school but made more friends, and I was the "smartest" (I'll rant about that some other time) in my class. Tried running for class president because the teachers convinced me to, but I lost the election for it. "It's fine," I thought to myself. And to be fair, the person that won the election (calling him BA) deserved that spot. Really nice and kind to anyone he could see.

Minded my business for the most part after that, except when my classmates asked for help on how to do some homework or clarify instructions the teachers gave (which I gladly did for them). Surprisingly, BA was one of those people, and kept asking me frequently. Couldn't refuse, so I just sucked it up and offered a hand. Over time though, I started to like him. I don't know why. I just did.

Near the end of the school year, our homeroom teacher asked what we were gonna do after graduating. BA then started talking about going abroad with his close friends to me. I asked who was going with him, and he said EC and a couple others who I don't know.

BA and I got into the same all-boys high school for grade 7, but got put in different sections. Didn't bother us both, though. We'd meet somewhere inside the library and he'd keep asking for help. To be honest, that school year was too boring without him by my side. What I didn't tell him however (and still haven't told him) was that I'd be transferring to another school for grade 8, so he still thinks I'll be by his side. I tried convincing my parents to let me stay, primarily because I want to still be with him, but I can't get them to budge.

Up until then, I still didn't tell him or anyone that I like him. I want to ask him out someday, but I can't. First, I don't know if he's just as interested in me as I am to him. Second, the students in this high school dislike the idea of dating the same sex. Most of the students there openly make homophobic remarks and shame others outside school and I don't want him to be treated like that. Third, I don't think we can work a long-distance relationship if he does like me back, and I don't think he'll drop everything to be with me cuz all his friends, especially EC, are still in that high school.

Grade 8 is about to start soon. I have his DM's but I don't know what to tell him. I don't know what to do.

Sorry if my rant was too long, please drink enough water, get enough sleep, and bye!❤️

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.

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.