Life Stories and Everyday Drama

I feel like I have to distance myself from everyone when it comes to family. They are all extremely unprincipled, unvalued, and unmotivated people, people with very low self-esteem who like to subjugate others through their own actions. My experience at my aunt's house and the way my father underestimated the situation were outrageous to me, excessively so.

Simply, that fact represented the necessary distance between my father and me. Honestly, I'm not with anyone who defends people like my mother and applauds her way of life with her mother, who in my aunt's case would be her comrade. It's the worst thing I've ever experienced. Differences are absolutely unacceptable there.

In fact, I feel that's why it was hard for me to stay strong at work. Today, with the Papa thing up in the air, I ignored it, and I felt that the indifference toward my indifference on the matter hurt me deeply. I felt the need to do like the others. The worst part of all this is that my father, that family, would support this.

It's like feeling miserable for breaking the trend, even though it goes against my principles. It makes me feel insulted and at the same time outraged that I was raised by my relatives, who didn't instill in me the strength to be different, which I denigrate because it's causing me problems in terms of distinguishing myself as I am in front of others, thus facilitating clarity for generating respect in a pleasant and unforced way. The idea isn't to fall into the trap of others breaking with it in one way or another.

All of them, these relatives I mention, are people who indeed appear friendly and supportive, but they come across that way in every context, which is frightening and deceptive. Although it must be acknowledged that their appearance is so obvious that to an outsider it would be like that, except for me, who didn't see it because I had normalized it. In fact, I didn't notice what they were yelling at me from miles away. In fact, I did nothing about their inconsistencies and lived by not speaking to them or pointing them out; my life together was one of being estranged because they exposed them without any remorse in front of me, which is disrespectful given that it's a game with my stability, which they further embrace thanks to the fact that they didn't point it out or justify it in any way, keeping me between a rock and a hard place when I committed them, which is indeed unfair. I feel abused within these people.

I don't like living with them. In fact, I have to live in isolation, since being with them implies intentional and frequent deterioration, while in isolation the situation is the opposite, and also with recovery, which with them is condemned. I had never acknowledged it until now that I've grown up, but these relatives make me fearful of their dramatic behavior as well as their constant denials of reality, thus creating an absorbing environment, and of course, one responsible for producing this normalization. They are the family that has also proven to be the difference between me and my mother's, and it was precisely because of this disappointment that I couldn't easily disengage from them, unlike with my mother, with whom I saw it coming.

For a very long time, it has resulted in an obsession with me not to discover the family characteristics—in truth, everything they pointed out in my mother's family, through detours and conditioning. However, they haven't realized that this game of counter-current on my part is lucrative and leads to the exact opposite result, something they apparently fail to understand despite numerous tests and which, of course, is my guarantee of success. There have been numerous attempts to eradicate me with thought tools such as ignoring the microphone, tearing at my writing, breaking away from influential thinkers, and even degrading well-known figures, but all have been in vain. I don't see them understanding that going against the grain and being effective is the best thing. Furthermore, if there were any attempt to avoid them markedly, it would only result in anxiety problems, and that's precisely what they don't want to encounter again because it would lead to an overflow of their routine, and living with me consisted of adapting to it.

I don't know how my coworkers experienced the fact that I wasn't with them at their father's event, but I still recognize that I felt obligated to consent to or pay attention to a religion when I am practically an atheist. This is an issue that is also imposing on said family. That is, they always tell me "God bless you" when I am not part of the religion, and which results in a lack of respect, mainly on the part of my father, who asks me to let him give it to me, only for the purpose of falling under the suggestion that, in that regard, for a very long time for a long time, my relationship with my father has consisted of pure attempts at suggestion. For a long time now, I haven't been able to share time with my father, only to seek food, some income, and to be the recipient of his attempts at suggestion, gradually leading him to become disillusioned. In fact, this has been the way he has come to act in a disorganized and obvious way toward these attempts. It's been almost three years like this, yet I still don't understand how he can't realize that his attempts are in vain; I suppose it's justified by the fact that it's because of the love I once had for my family, and because of which he took advantage of the opportunity to distort me. Ironically, individuals like those who cause complications for their families by coming into conflict with their moral compass happened, even though they were also a person I respected. Personally, the fact that I continue in this mood seems amusing to me up to this point, as the sadness is extremely high, no longer destabilizing to the point of prostrating me, but rather a game in favor of my firmness.

When will my father learn his lesson? When will my aunt learn her lesson? He tried to lecture me, but she, unwittingly, was the one falling into the game, precisely so that I could distance myself from her, since my goal is to distance myself from this family. They are obsessed with preventing my departure, when it has already happened, and now I am merely a spectator, oblivious to them, just like any other ordinary citizen who visualizes them. In short: I can't help but hide the sun with a finger from anyone in the world, then.

I feel like I don't know if I'd like to meet this girl again, or even the one I knew. They're both extremely confiding people with extremely troubled lives. They're always trying to please everyone. It's somewhat absorbing for me. I feel like I'm a sad spectacle or something, a projection of what they could be, and I don't like it.

Personally, I feel like I wouldn't like to meet either of them. They're very unstable people, indeed. Their feelings are extremely disproportionate and they're constantly struggling with their surroundings. I feel they're extremely tied down. Frankly, I don't want to know about their lives because I feel like I'll stumble upon a deep, brazenly camouflaged sadness. In this sense, I feel, as I do everyone else, that such a person is very unpleasant, and even more so those around them, who are used to something like that. I feel, in principle, that there will be no organization in the conversations. The focus will be on feeling good, not facing an organized panorama, which will allow for the diversity of emotions and, therefore, the exercise of organizing them to adapt to this encouraging panorama.

These are extremely complex girls, too much for me. In fact, I confess that all their actions leave me thinking because, of course, I visualize them, I identify with them, but nevertheless, it's an overflow for my routine. Furthermore, I'm surprised by the technicality I have to use to express myself about them in a way that is satisfactory to me and, I'm sure, to the reader as well.

Why did I get such complicated girls? I don't understand. Why don't I get something simpler? Also, I'm conscious. I don't want, under any circumstances, to go around advising anyone, which is what I feel I've done with them, regarding maintaining respectful boundaries. In fact, I'm overwhelmed by speaking in this formal way because of the great detail involved. I prefer something much simpler. This, of course, already implies, if we constantly meet with them, a long distance between us, working in the meantime, even though it's impossible, creating a distance between us. Let's be honest: The relationship between these girls and me is a long-term disaster. I can't resort to such complex analysis to understand these circumstances. Indeed, it's essential: I need to distance myself from both of them.

I feel like our relationship is an overload for me. I understand that I need to control my thoughts; however, the effort is precisely what's overwhelming, and if I don't, I run into disorganization with her, which would mean being unavailable and just being another source of conflict. What could be the cure for the issue also results in conflict—a minority one at first, but in the long run, it will be just as impactful as any other source. It's unfortunate, then; I can't do anything more with these girls, and it hurts because I was right there in their shoes.

I find it hard to believe that I can't deal with myself. These are people whose personality I had in the past. Why are these circumstances the same as mine? On the one hand, and on the other, how is it possible that I don't encounter someone in the same circumstances as me? I feel this speaks to the fact that I still have my mentality in such times, even though the conditions of my environment are different, which implies that I haven't fully adapted to it, although it would seem utopian at first, given that it's always in constant change. What I can say is that this within my adaptation continues to be present, and I recognize it. Of the things I've become aware of, many I hadn't been conscious of. Of course, I sought a radical change, which is why I still struggle to achieve my goal. What I can say is that, speaking of a totality, my environment is still creating distance for all situations in the present, everything about them that I haven't been conscious of.

I've mentioned this guy in one of my stories before...classmate, me being introverted in general, him being annoying and full of himself, a social butterfly, large group of girlies happy to engage with him, me having some odd eye contact moments with him that make me question- what on earth is he thinking about?? what does that look mean? what are his eyes speaking and and why is he looking at me, I don't speak so like leave me alone? and look I know it might sound like I'm just going on for nothing cuz I feel high of myself now that someone is noticing me whatever whatever, but trust me that is not what I want. I just wanna be there-silently existing, do my work, spend time with friends and go home.

Idk how to explain, but the locking of the eyes is just ... weird? odd? awkward for me? uncomfortable? I've been told it's because I'm trying to figure out what he's thinking and that I'm thinking too deep or serious about this, he might not even be thinking anything etc etc.

the thing is, I hate that he has been randomly popping up in my head- not in the crush way, that's not me. honestly I'm scared to even say more in case his on this, which I doubt, but there's so many other people I could be thinking about, so many other people I could be getting annoyed with. this morning, I caught his smile while he was looking dead straight somewhere on my t-shirt, trying to figure out the words or whatever . generally one would stare back at that kind of person, but I felt uncomfortable and looked away, possibly looking soft? why must I feel anxious being around him, fearing being judged, and judged for what exactly. ugh it's killing me, and I need to get him out of my head, and not let his presence bother me. how?!???

I'm questioning my worthiness for this position. The thought keeps surfacing that my appointment might have been due to a lack of preferred internal connections for others. What am I supposed to make of these feelings?"

I was so young at the time we dated I was only 12 when we dated. He was 16 at the time and God it was awful..looking back into that I was in a awful relationship. I'm now 16 and I regret everything I was ruined like I became so obsessive and it hurt me so bad I tried to harm myself. he was nice sometimes but he was my first love and I thought it was so real even if it was online. I dated him for maybe until I was 13 and through those years he tried to commit in front of me on call and even stabbed his side of his waist and made me watch him bleed until he finally went to the hospital. he told me it was okay to do things on camera and to make myself bleed and sick. he cheated on me and would buy me things and make me feel so hurt inside. once my parents found out and made me leave all socials and stop talking but of course I found my way back to him when I was 14 and dated him until I was 15 and a half but it was too late. it was weird that day I spoke to him he was all happy and was saying all different things than what he normally said, he lived close to me state wise so he also mentioned he was finally going to let go and see me if I followed his footsteps and I was so confused. that same week I was shattered because it was just all over at the age of 15 I was getting calls from his family saying he was dead and a call from the police apologizing. I was completely ruined and heartbroken but now that I look back on it I shouldve never gotten with him over and over but I was young.

(DISCLAMER I DONT MAKE SENSE BUT I AM JUST RAMBALING)

*This is a REAL story and it involves more drama so if you are only here for the dirty details this one probably isn’t for you*

So, I used to be friends with this guy at university. His name was Amir. Until the lat year of university we used to be pretty close friends. I was a smart student, but a little bit lazy, I used to use this app to auto reference my assignments and I ended up sharing the app with Amir to help us out a little bit.

However, I ended up getting caught and one of the main lectures threatened to kick me off the course unless she told me what the app was and where I found it. I ended up blaming Amir and telling my lecturers it was him who introduced it to me. Which obviously resulted in him being kicked off the course. It was him or me!

Obviously, that didn’t really go down with Amir too well. Himself and his whole family began to threaten me and Amir would send me tons of messages until I ended up blocking him. I remember the last message he sent me was saying he would get revenge on me someday…turns out he was right.

Fast forward to today, my girlfriend Holly recently cheated on me for the first time and guess who the other guy was? Yep. AMIR. I couldn’t believe it at the time and I was insanely shocked.

How on earth does this even happen? Me and Holly got into a stupid heated argument the same night she cheated on me. She ends up bumping into Amir at this wedding party and obviously he thought this was the best time to get revenge. Holly all alone and vulnerable.

Amir and Holly used to be friends as well and she wasn’t even aware of our ‘beef’ Amir ended up telling her and she couldn’t believe it. She instantly phoned me asking me if it were true and I was just worried about her being around Amir and I told her to avoid him and go home.

What happens next? Holly puts down the phone and I tried calling her back numerous times…nothing. I end up getting a message request on Facebook from Amir and I couldn’t witness my eyes. He sent me a photo of Holly sucking his cock!

I was in disbelief. He was finally taking his revenge and using my girlfriend mouth for it. It couldn’t have gone any better for him. I was just picturing how he must have been feeling. Having my gorgeous girlfriend suck his cock as he took his revenge. Moments later another photo appeared and it was Holly’s tits completely smothered in cum. It was over.

Lesson taken from this - don’t make enemies who are confident they’ll get even on you someday. Amir surely did.

i’ve been asking myself that question every single day since she left. how do you get over someone who didn’t break your heart with cruelty, but just… left? it’s been a few months now, and still, every morning i wake up hoping there’s a message from her, knowing there won’t be. she didn’t leave me because she stopped loving me—we never even had a real “ending.” she moved across the world for work, for family, for life, and i was left behind with all these feelings and nowhere to put them. i still remember the last time i saw her at the airport, tryin to be strong, pretending like it wasn’t the last time i’d see her for god knows how long. i smiled through it, kissed her cheek, told her i understood. but deep inside, it shattered me. we weren’t even official, not in the way people usually mean it, but i loved her. i really loved her. in that all-consuming, soft, terrifying way that makes your chest ache in the best and worst ways. and now she’s just... gone. in another time zone, living a life i’m not part of, and i don’t know how to move forward when a piece of me is still with her.

everyone says the usual things—“time heals,” “stay busy,” “you’ll meet someone else”—but none of it helps when all i want is her. i’ve tried. i’ve gone out, talked to new people, thrown myself into work, started hobbies i don’t care about just to keep my mind occupied. but nothing sticks. she’s still there, in every quiet moment. in songs i used to play for her, in cafés that remind me of our favorite spot, in the way i still sleep on one side of the bed. and maybe the hardest part is that i can’t even be angry. i can't hate her for leaving. she did what she had to do. but where does that leave me? stuck in this limbo where i keep pretending i'm okay when i'm not. people around me think i’ve moved on cause i smile and laugh and say “i’m fine,” but they don’t see me at night, lying awake wondering if she still thinks about me too. or if i was just a small chapter in her story while she became a whole book in mine. i miss her in ways i can’t even explain. not just her voice or her touch, but the feeling of being seen, really seen. she got me in a way no one ever has. and maybe that’s what makes it so hard—how do you get over someone who felt like home? maybe the truth is, you don’t really “get over” them. maybe you just learn to live around the ache, to make space for the memory without letting it swallow you whole. but right now? it still hurts. and i don’t know when it’ll stop.

i dont get it. like fr why everyone in my family gotta be so mean to me all the time?? i aint even do nothin and still they act like im the worst person in the house. my mom always yellin, my dad dont even look at me half the time, and my brother’s just rude for no reason. i wake up and its already attitude from the second i walk in the kitchen. like, if i ask for something simple like if theres any cereal left, my mom's like “go look yourself” with that tone like she already mad at me for just breathing. why they always act like im the problm?? i swear i try to stay outta the way, i stay in my room most days just chillin or listenin to music but still when i come out its like instant drama.

i be helpin around the house too. i clean my room, i do the dishes even when its not my turn, nd still they find sumthin to complain about. if i put the spoon in the wrong drawer, its like the end of the world or somethin. my dad once told me “you cant do anything right” just cause i forgot to take out the trash one night. like fr?? ONE night. nd he talk to me like i failed at life or sumthin. my brother, don’t even get me started, he be callin me names every chance he gets. annoying, stupid, crybaby... nd my parents don’t say nothing. they just laugh like its funny. well it aint.

sometimes i think maybe i was adopted or somethin, like how else do u explain it? they all so close with each other. laughin at the table, goin out places without me, sharin inside jokes. nd im just... there. invisible. or worse, the target. i tried to ask my mom once, like, why yall always treat me like im the enemy? nd she said “stop makin everything about you.” like, bruh, i only asked cause im tired of feelin like trash in my own house. is that too much?? to want to feel loved in ur own damn family?

school aint much better but at least there, some ppl smile at me. even if they fake, at least they fake nice. at home, i get nothin. no hugs, no “how was ur day,” not even a “good night.” just silence or sarcasm. nd if i say anything back, they say im disrespectful. like sorry for having feelings i guess?? they make me feel like im a burdden. like they’d be better off without me there. nd sometimes, late at night, i start thinkin maybe they're right. maybe i am the problem and dont even kno it. maybe im just broken in some way that makes ppl not wanna be around me.

but then i remember, im just a kid. im only 15. i didnt ask to be here, i didnt choose this family. nd i shouldnt have to beg for basic kindness. im not askin for them to buy me stuff or give me everything i want. i just want respect. some love. someone to say “i see you” instead of makin me feel like a ghost. if i ever become a mom, i swear imma treat my kids like they matter. i wont let them go to bed feelin unloved like i do most nights. i want to break whatever this is, this cycle of meaness that they think is normal.

i dont even kno what to do anymore. talkin dont work, cryin dont help, stayin silent just makes them act like nothin’s wrong. maybe one day i’ll move out and things’ll change. maybe they’ll miss me when im gone. or maybe they wont. maybe they’ll just keep goin like i was never there. all i kno is, i can’t keep holdin all this in forever. it hurts too much. nd im tired of pretendin it dont. so if ur readin this n u ever felt the same way, like ur own family don't even like u... ur not alone. i feel it too. every day. every damn day.

It's 8 am right now and in a few hours i have a physics test i'm not prepared for and now i'm panicking. I've been trying to study for it for ages but there have been some many last minute problems and that I haven't made It. Yesterday my whole day got messed up and i had no time and so i tried to study during the night but i was so tired that I crashed and now i only have a few school hours before It. And i feel like an idiot because i know It's my fault, but i'm just so tired and there's just so much stuff to keep up with all at once i don't know what to do first. I'm so tired i don't want to this anymore, i don't want to do anything, i just want to sleep for the rest of my life.

I have friends in high school but I don't talk to them much because I'm shy, my interests are much different from theirs, and I'm scared to open up to them. Literally every kid in class has met each other outside of school, I'm the only one who hasn't hung out with any of them outside of school cause my home is so far from most of theirs. My friends also know each other more and are much closer with each other than I am with them. I don't even think I've ever had an actual best friend. Plus my school is so freaking tiny so the chances of meeting someone who I truly vibe with is 0%, unless a new kid joins our class with is highly unlikely. I just feel so lonely.

first of all, sorry if I have any grammar or vocabulary errors, English is not my first language.

so, I (f, 17) have had this friend (m,18) for almost 6 years, I shared everything with him and loved him with all my heart.

we met because he had a crush on me, but he moved forward in a few months. He was very sweet at first, and it was so nice to talk about anything with him. also, he always had depressio, and I've always been there for him, honestly.

when he got a girlfriend we lost contact a little, because she was kind of jealous, and I understood it perfectly bc I didn't want to make things weird for anyone. we still talked tho, but only about serious problems and not a lot.

when they broke up two years later me and my friend got closer again because he needed a friend to talk to. I helped him with what I could, but soon I started to have feelings for him. I didnt told him bc I didn't want to ruin our friendship bc I loved him so much in that way, so I tried to wait for those feelings to pass, but they didn't.

still, I didn't do anything about it, I knew he didn't saw me the same way, and also he was going through a thought breakup.

one day I invited him and my other bestie over bc there was a concert at my stepdad town. there was two beds for us, so my other bestie (girl and in a relationship) and I were supposed to sleep together and he was supposed to sleep alone. he didnt. he slept between the two of us. he scooped in my direction and hugged me, then kissed me, and we ended up making love on the other bed. I confessed to him that night before doing anything because I was a lil drunk, and he told me he kind of felt something similar. the next day he told me he did not, and that he didn't want to do it again.

months passed by and we continued having sex, I still felt the same way and I always cried after because I felt really bad and kind of used. one that, I was told by my friends that they saw him kissing his ex, and I felt horrible bc he didn't told me. he apologized and I forgave him, but he kept lying about everything, so I started to get really mad at him because he always came to me with the only motivation of affection and when he felt alone or had nothing else to do.

he always said sorry, and always did the same. I got really tired and demanded the respect I deserve, and told him that he never helped me when I needed him (which is true bc when I had 13 or smth I had no friends but him, I told him and asked him to spend more time together and he told me to get more friends).

and he got tired of me demanding that respect, so he started drifting away instead of trying to fix our friendship.

last week, I begged him to fix this, but he did not want to bc he has other friends now (that's literally what he told me) and bc Im always sad (remember he has depression, he recently almost had an attempt that I myself stopped)

his new bestie (f,18) is such a bad friend with her girlfriends, they personally told me, bc she always makes fun of them for male attention. and I told my friend this, and told him I was jealous bc she's so pretty and fun, but also she's a bad person and he should know it. and he said he already knew, but it is fine with him.

im devastated, bc I did everything I could to keep him by my side and cared for him all this time, and I don't understand what I lack. im so mad at him. and her. im so so soooo sad and mad. I wish I knew what he wanted me to do to be perfect for him. and now he's gone. I´ll love him all my life and he always told me he will too. but he doesn't even care a little about me. idk, im just so heartbroken.

thank you for reading <3 hope u have a wonderful day/sleep well

I never had a full grip on what I want to do with my life, but its gotten even worse recently. My tablemates at lunch aren't going to the same school I am next year, and its hard to find anyone who 1. even supports queer people such as myself and 2. shares a common interest with me. my old tablemates hate my guts (maybe for disliking genshin due to it being problematic, but idk) and even after high school, I'm completely lost. the only thing I really am passionate about is freelance art and animation, and its hard to find a job that lets me do that on my own. plus my grades aren't getting any better, and I might not even graduate. I hate being stuck so fucking much. trump is NOT helping btw, I cant even transition when I turn 18 anymore, nor can I serve in the military like I wanted.

so I have anemia, or low iron. When you have this, your fingernails turn like whitish as does the inside of your bottom eyelid.

And it also comes with splitting stomach pain.

We have iron supplements at my house, since my dad, sister, and mom are all anemic too, but I can't remember to take them daily, and even when I do, they don't help much if I can't get enough iron in my everyday diet. It's a pain in my stomach, literally,

Randomly, when I'm overexerting myself or even sometimes when I just breathe a bit too deep or too shallow, I have to double over and just stay still for a minute because it's the only thing that helps against the pain.It makes it hard to do anything. PE, Marching Band, everything.

Thing is, I don't know whether I should go to the school nurse. I'm biologically female, so I'm afraid they'll push it off as period cramps.

What should I do?

It’s the worst feeling ever, loving someone who will never be yours. I never thought I’d be that girl, y’know? The one who falls for the wrong person, the one she can’t be with. But here I am, waking up every morning with him on my mind, going to bed hoping maybe tomorrow he’ll look at me the way I look at him.

He’s not mine. He never was. And maybe that’s what makes it all worse. There was no breakup, no real moment where things ended, because they never started. So I don’t even get the closure people talk about. All I have is this ache inside me, and the constant “what if” that haunts me like a shadow.

What if I told him? Would anything change? Would he laugh, or would he just smile politely and let me down easy? Or maybe he’d tell me he feels the same, but the timing’s wrong. That would almost be worse—knowing he could’ve loved me if life wasn’t so complicated.

Sometimes I ask myself if I’m just being dramatic. I mean, I’m seventeen. People will say “you’ll love again,” or “this is just your first heartbreak,” like that makes it easier. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like my heart’s been stitched together with weak thread and every thought of him pulls it apart a little more.

Is it wrong to still want to see him even though it hurts? When I know every time I hear his voice or see his name pop up on my phone, it’ll mess me up for the rest of the day? Like I’m setting myself up for pain on purpose. But I can’t help it. I’d rather feel something than feel nothing at all.

He’s so close but so far. In the same school, the same circle, sometimes even the same room. But emotionally? We’re on two different planets. He talks to me, yeah, but it’s casual. Friendly. And I sit there smiling, nodding, pretending like I’m not falling deeper into something that has no bottom.

Does he know? I wonder about that a lot. Is he clueless, or does he just not want to say anything? I try to read between the lines of every text, every look, every awkward silence. But maybe there’s nothing to read. Maybe I’m just making up a whole story in my head because it hurts less than facing the truth.

Am I not enough? That question has been eating me up inside lately. Like, maybe I’m not pretty enough or cool enough or confident enough. Maybe if I was different, he’d see me. Maybe if I wasn’t me, he could love me. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because I know I’m supposed to love myself first. But how do you love yourself when you feel invisible to the one person who matters most?

I’ve tried to move on. I really have. I’ve talked to other guys, gone out with friends, even deleted our old messages so I wouldn’t re-read them a million times. But nothing works. It’s like he’s burned into my memory, into my chest, into everything.

Will it always feel like this? Will I always look back at this time in my life and remember the ache, the longing, the almost-love that never happened? Or will he just become another blurry face in the crowd one day, and I’ll laugh at how hard I used to cry over someone who didn’t love me back?

Sometimes I feel like I’m being punished for caring too much. Like maybe I gave too much of myself away without realizing it, and now there’s not enough left for me.

I wish I could go back to before I felt this way. When love was just an idea and not a knife in my chest. When I didn’t overanalyze every word, every text delay, every emoji. When I wasn’t stuck in this loop of hope and disappointment.

Loving someone you can’t have is like living with a ghost. You see them, feel them, ache for them—but they’re not really there. And deep down, you know they never will be.

But here’s the thing—I don’t regret loving him. Not even a little. Because even though it hurts, it also taught me so much. About myself. About feelings. About the kind of love I want and deserve. And maybe that’s the first step to letting go.

Maybe one day, I’ll meet someone who looks at me the way I look at him. Someone who doesn’t make me question everything, someone who stays. Until then, I’ll let myself feel this, cry about it, write about it… and eventually, heal from it.

I’m 32, been married to Jake for eight years now, and I gotta say, things ain’t what they used to be, especially when it comes to sex with my husband. Back when we were dating, and even the first couple years of marriage, it was like we couldn’t keep our hands off each other—stolen kisses in the kitchen, sneaking off during family gatherings, the whole deal. But lately, it’s like I’m invisible to him. I catch myself staring in the mirror, poking at the extra softness around my belly, the stretch marks from carrying our two kids, the way my boobs don’t sit as perky as they did at 24. I feel like I’m not as attractive as I was, and it’s eating me up inside. Jake’s still handsome as ever—those broad shoulders, that easy smile—but he barely looks at me that way anymore. We’re lucky if we have sex once a month, and even then, it feels like he’s just going through the motions, like it’s a chore or something. I try to spice things up, you know? I bought this lacy red lingerie set last month, spent way too much on it, and when I slipped it on and walked into the bedroom, he barely glanced up from his phone. “You look nice,” he mumbled, then went right back to scrolling. Nice? Nice is what you say about a new throw pillow, not your wife trying to seduce you. I felt so stupid standing there, like some desperate teenager. I don’t know if it’s me, if I’ve let myself go too much, or if he’s just not into me anymore. I mean, I’m not the same size 6 I was when we met, but I’m not a slob either—I work out when I can, chase our kids around all day, keep the house together. Still, I can’t shake this feeling that he’s comparing me to who I used to be, or worse, to other women. I’ve seen the way he lingers on Instagram models or those stupid ads that pop up, all flawless skin and tiny waists. It’s not like he’s cheating, at least I don’t think so, but it’s like he’s checked out. I’ve tried talking to him, dropping hints, even straight-up asking what’s wrong, but he just shrugs and says he’s tired or stressed from work. And yeah, I get it, his job’s demanding, and we’re both exhausted with a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old running us ragged, but shouldn’t we still want each other? I miss that spark, that heat we used to have, when he’d look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Now, when we do have sex, it’s so… mechanical. No foreplay, no passion, just quick and done. I’m left lying there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what happened to us. I’ve read articles, listened to podcasts, even bought one of those “rekindle your marriage” books, but it’s hard to fix something when only one of you seems to care. I’ve tried initiating, but getting rejected—or worse, that pitying “okay, fine” vibe—hurts worse than not trying at all. I wonder if he’s bored, or if he’s got some secret resentment he’s not telling me about. Maybe it’s not even about me—maybe he’s struggling with something he won’t share. I know men can have their own issues, like low testosterone or stress, but he won’t talk about it, won’t see a doctor, nothing. I’m scared to push too hard and make it worse, but I’m also scared of what happens if we keep drifting like this. I love Jake, I really do. He’s a great dad, a good provider, but I need more than a roommate. I need to feel wanted, desired, like I’m still his girl, you know? I keep thinking maybe I need to do more—lose the baby weight, get a makeover, be sexier somehow—but deep down, I know it’s not just about how I look. It’s about us, about whatever’s broken between us. I’ve been thinking about suggesting counseling, but I’m terrified he’ll think I’m overreacting or that it’ll make things awkward. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t care enough to try? I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t want to keep feeling like this either—like I’m begging for scraps of affection. I just want my husband back, the one who couldn’t wait to rip my clothes off, who made me feel like I was enough. I don’t know how to get there, but I’m not ready to give up yet. Maybe I’ll try talking to him again, really lay it all out, typos and all, just like this messy, aching heart of mine.