Anonymous venting

so I like this boy named henry but I don't know if he likes me back and i wanna ask him but I don't know because so theirs this guy and i'ma just call him j and him and his friends are known for telling people that person a like person b when it's not true. so I'm was walking to my class (keep in mind I have every class with j but I don't have any with henry) and j called my name so I turned around to see what he wanted and he asked me if I wanted put on's with henry but I was already upset with him(J) so I had rolled my eyes and said yeah but as I said that henry started say that he doesn't get down like that but i kinda ignored it and continued walking to class. so, after a few minutes I was already in class but j wasn't so after a few more minutes j walks in the class and tells me that henry said that he was ready when I was and he wanted to know if I knew if I could cook but I was still mad @ j so I said I'm fucking Hispanic why the fuck would I not know how to cook. so fast forward to like maybe a few days later i was outside my school and henry was standing with his friends infront of me and I look up and he was already looking @ me, and we kept eye contact for maybe a second or two then we both look away. so, moving on to lunch time and I told some of the girls @ my lunch table and then we went to go get lunch and they kept telling me that he was looking over here (the lunch line we were standing in) then when we sat down, they said that we was looking @ me a lot. so again, fast forward to today and it friday and i wanna ask him but im scared

i used to tell myself it was just a phase. that one day, i’d meet the right person, and everything would just click like it does in the movies. but here i am, years later, still alone, still wondering if maybe this isn’t a phase at all—maybe i’m just gonna be single forever. it’s not like i haven’t tried. i’ve gone on dates, i’ve downloaded the apps, i’ve forced myself into awkward conversations with people who i knew, deep down, weren’t the right match. but it never works out. either i don’t feel anything, or they don’t. or worse, we pretend for a while, but it just slowly fades into nothing. and every time it happens, i start wondering if maybe the problem isn’t them. maybe it’s me.

maybe i’m just not built for relationships. i see other people fall in love so easily, like it’s just something that happens to them. they meet someone, sparks fly, they get into a relationship without overthinking every little detail. meanwhile, i analyze everything. do i even like them? or do i just like the idea of not being alone? will this feeling last, or am i just forcing something because i think i should? and then there’s the other side of it—the fear. the fear of getting attached, of trusting someone, of letting them in just to have them leave. i tell myself i want love, that i want to experience all the things other people talk about, but every time i get close to it, i find a reason to push it away. too busy, too complicated, too much efort. but if i keep doing that, then what? then i will be single forever.

people always say, "you’ll find someone when you least expect it," but that feels like such a lie. it’s not like love is just gonna fall out of the sky and land in my lap. if it hasn’t happened by now, who’s to say it ever will? i try to convince myself that being single isn’t a bad thing, that i should just enjoy my own company, focus on myself. and some days, i belive it. but other days? other days i see couples walking down the street, holding hands, laughing like they exist in their own little world, and i wonder if i’ll ever have that. or if i’m just meant to be on the outside, watching it happen for everyone else but me.

It starts small. So small I almost don’t notice it at first. Just a tightness in my chest, like I’ve forgotten to breathe properly. My thoughts get a little louder, a little faster, like someone pressed fast-forward on my brain and now it’s running ahead of me, out of control. I try to ignore it, tell myself it’s nothing, that I’m fine, but my body has already decided otherwise. My hands feel weird, kinda tingly, kinda numb. My stomach twists into knots, and suddenly I feel like I might throw up, even though I haven’t eaten anything in hours. But the worst part? No one around me has a clue. I could be sitting in a room full of people, having a completely normal conversation, nodding, even laughing at the right moments, and no one would know that inside, I’m barely holding on. That’s the thing about a silent anxiety attack—it doesn’t look like what people expect. There’s no hyperventilating, no shaking, no obvious signs. Just me, stuck in my own head, trying to act normal while my body is screaming at me that something is very wrong.

I’ve gotten good at hiding it. Too good, maybe. I’ve had these episodes since I was a teenager, and over the years, I’ve learned how to perform through them. I know how to keep my voice steady even when I feel like I can’t breathe. I know how to smile and nod while my heart is pounding so hard I swear it’s about to explode. I know how to keep eye contact, to ask the right questions, to seem present, even when my mind is looping through the same terrible thoughts over and over again. What if I pass out? What if I embarrass myself? What if I just lose control completely? And the scariest part? No one ever notices. They just keep talking, keep moving, keep living their lives, while I sit there drowning in my own head. And then, just when I think it can’t get worse, the exhaustion hits. Like my whole body just gives up after the fight. My muscles ache, my brain feels foggy, and all I wanna do is sleep, but I know when I wake up, it could all happen again.

I wish I knew how to stop it. I wish there was a switch I could flip, some way to tell my brain, hey, chill out, nothing’s actually wrong. But logic doesn’t work when anxiety takes over. People say things like just breathe, just relax, but they don’t get it. If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be feeling like this in the first place. I try grounding techniques, counting things in the room, touching something solid, focusing on sounds around me. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn’t. The only thing I know for sure is that I can’t keep living like this, constantly waiting for the next wave to hit. Because that’s the worst part of anxiety—it’s never really gone. It’s always just waiting, lurking in the background, ready to take over the second I let my guard down. And honestly? I don’t know if I’ll ever be free from it.

I love my gf she texts me mid game and i feel special

I feel like I’ve been asking myself this question forever: what does sexual attraction feel like? People talk about it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s just there, obvious and unavoidable. But for me, it’s never been that way. I hear my friends talk about how “hot” someone is, how they’d love to get in bed with them, how their brain just goes there automatically. And I sit there, nodding along, pretending I get it, but I don’t. Like, I get attraction—I can look at someone and think they’re beautiful, handsome, interesting. I can even feel connected to someone emotionally, like I want to be close to them, to spend time with them, to be something with them. But that pull people describe, that physical craving, that feeling of just wanting someone in that way? I don’t think I’ve ever had that. And I don’t know if that’s normal, if I just haven’t met the right person yet, or if maybe… I’m just wired differently.

I’ve been reading a lot about asexuality lately, and part of me feels like it explains everything. But another part of me is terrified to accept it, because what if I’m wrong? What if I just haven’t unlocked that part of myself yet? What if I’m just a late bloomer and one day it’ll all make sense? I don’t want to label myself too soon and then realize later that I do feel it, that I just hadn’t experienced it yet. But at the same time, how long am I supposed to wait? How long do I keep pretending I understand something that, for me, has never been real? And then there’s the fear of what that means for my future. If I am asexual, does that mean I’ll never find love? Will people see me as broken? Will I always feel like I’m missing some huge, important part of being human? It’s overwhelming. I don’t have the answers, and I don’t know when—or if—I ever will. All I know is that I don’t feel the way most people seem to. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s just who I am. But right now? Right now, I just wish I knew for sure... 😥

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.

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.