Life Stories and Everyday Drama

lately, life has taken an unexpected turn. my wife of seven years decided to leave the house two months ago. she sent me divorce papers through the mail. it's surreal how things can change so quickly; one moment we were planning a weekend getaway and the next i'm looking at legal documents trying to make sense of it all. i can't dwell on negativity though, mainly because I have these two amazing kids who need me more than ever right now.

it's been challenging to say the least but i'm determined to focus on every positive aspect that this new chapter might bring. raising these youngsters on my own has given me a fresh perspective on parenting. every day is a learning experience: from managing school runs to creating impromptu backyard adventures, there’s never a dull moment! 😅

for instance, last weekend, we camped out in our living room watching their favorite movies and making popcorn like it was a five-star cinema. moments like these are precious gems waiting to be appreciated often hidden behind layers of daily chaos; that's what keeps me moving forward with hope and optimism...

ok, I've been doing this therapy thing for 2 freakin' months and guess what? No noticeable difference! 😤 Isn't therapy supposed to work magic or something by now? I'm still feeling all bleh and no enlightenment in sight. What's wrong with me? Did I get a dud therapist or is it just typical fluff? heard some quote about 'patience is a virtue,' but come on, two months of dishing out my life's sob stories should have triggered some mystical change, right?

honestly, i'm paying hefty cash to feel... the same! 🤨 Apparently therapists understand the complexities of one's psyche like nobody else. Random internet advice claims 'progress isn't linear', but aren't there supposed to be some signs of progress after continuously emptying your emotional reserves during sessions? While pondering Aristotle's rant about 'knowing thyself', I wonder if self-actualization decides to take its sweet time. maybe hope's this elusive carrot dangling forever ahead while I race along the existential treadmill.

So me and a friend that I haven't seen in a while was hanging out. I havent talked to him or heard from him in almost 2 years which was strange how he wanted too just "hang out". It was around 9:00 at night and I already got into my plush fuzzy grey pajama pants when he asked too hang out. I didnt feel like changing bc i was so comfy. So I just decided too throw my super soft fleece jacket on and go pick him up. Well I picked him up and we were just chilling hanging out and drinking beers in the truck. Thats when he asked me if I been seeing this girl nam abby and so i said yes ive been seeing her for months. As soon as I said that he reached right between my legs and got a super hard grip on my plush covered balls and I didnt have any underwear on bc the pants are super super soft I immediately whimpered and moaned and closed my legs which made his grip even tighter I felt so confused on why my balls were being squeezed especially through these specific pants and what he said next made every thing make sense he said " I figured you would be in these pants ive always wanted to bust your balls in them I just needed a reason and now I got a reason" I responded back with a breathless moan "wtf did I do pleaseee let go ahhhh" well apparently Abby was his recent ex and I had no clue bc I havent seen him in years.

I've been struggling with ADHD recently and it's just exhausting. People assume ADHD is always this quirky, distracted behavior but it's not that simple, right? It's the constant battle to keep myself from getting sucked into distractions while trying to focus on a task. And when I say 'constant', I mean it! Every single day feels like I'm juggling ten tasks at once and dropping half of them.

I tried all those suggested coping mechanisms: lists, timers, even taking breaks (which ironically sometimes makes me lose track even more). The thing is, they help a little here and there but never enough to make the chaos manageable. Plus, people tend to think medication is some kind of magic fix but it isn't really... it's more like another tool mixed with its own set of challenges and side effects.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just not disciplined enough or if these standard coping mechanisms aren't designed for everyone? You know what gets me though? Whenever there's talk about productivity or focus in work settings, it always seems like they're built around neurotypical brains. I've yet to find something that acknowledges how managing time and attention can be an ongoing uphill battle for someone like me who is constantly fighting against their own mind's wiring! Does anyone else ever feel this way?!

I've sort of... vented some heavy things here. So much pain.. so much memory. Too much of everything. But some memories keep me warm in the dark, when all I see is violence and all I hear are screams long since past their point of echo.

I think of my boy, my dog, my Spike. A dachshund. Large for his breed, loud. A beautiful animal, gods own touch.

We'd taken him in from a place no better than ours.. but, for a time.. it was. As Home fell into chaos and my childhood became what it was, there he was with me. I sought escape. I sought anything good.

As time marched, I wasn't able to have many friends. I was isolated. Forcefully. Coupled with the things my family was doing, the things in which they were involved.. but here he was. My boy. I wish I had a happy ending here. I wish.. so bad.

He meant everything to me. More than my own life. I could be beaten, tied down, the worst you can imagine.. but no harm to him. I fought for him, in that place. Where even children suffered. Where perversion and.. just. Evil. Rampant evil. I began to try and run away from home..I couldn't always take him. She, my mother, she knew his worth to me. God help me typing this. God please.

I just need to get it out. Once just once. Forgive me if you read this, and find only pain. ims orry

I would take him everywhere. Hikes, into the mountains. I showed him places most only reached by helicopter. I took him to sights many would think too impractical or unsafe for him to see; Ancient, titanic landslides hundreds of KM into the Unknown, or little seen.

I took him to stagnant glaciers, to the ocean that was the tops of each mountain, behind the Diamond, as we called it- the largest mountain near. Black, smooth peaks. They were like massive, frozen waves. And there he was, on my pack. At my side. Happy, loving me. I spent so long nurturing that sweet innocent life. He was so mistreated as a pup... he was so afraid. Like me.

But he was brave too. Like any dog, full of adventure and curiosity. One time, damn me for losing any pictures of this, I put an orange bandana on him, and little shades. He was ecstatic to be included in human clothes ahah.

Didn't last.. animals in my home.. didn't last. Then, I was far too young. I didn't see, it wasn't just me, just us kids, being abused. And eventually, everyone but me remained. Me and Her. She knew, as my escape attempts became more complex.. only time. Just a matter of time. So She did what any abuser does: Destroy something I love.

I escaped from home, after time. Ran. Alone. 14 years old. No one to help. I tried to take him.. no place would take me with him. No shelter. I pleaded, I screamed I threatened. No one cared. I couldn't go back, not without a way to save him. So I.. did my own thing. Somehow, finished school . Got a job, my own place- at that unlearned age, fuck, man.

All the while She hunted me. Always. Somehow the Law just.. wouldn't take her, not then. No matter what she did.. those fucking cowards..

One day; I received a message. The dog was dying. No way to save him. I felt something. Idk what. I just.. knew it was Her, my mother. That witch who wears skin like she's human, but has done so much to prove otherwise. She told me- come, come say goodbye. I was torn. She wouldn't lay a finger on me, or I'd.. do what I needed. But.. three years now. I was 17, I was.. maybe I should. I'm bigger. I can take her. I'll go, I'll see my baby.. maybe take him? Anything. I told her if she valued her life, she'd leave the talking to me. So much had happened..You cannot understand. The woman tore part of my face open as a boy. She... I had my reasons for being so.. cold. I was young. scared.

But I went. What a mess.. my boy. Grayed. Older. He was so happy to see me, I nearly screamed in anguish to see how he struggled to come to me. My only friend, my only family. no

but yes

I took him into my arms. I took him and walked to his favorite place. The beach... he whined. wanted to run oh my God but he couldn't. He vomited.. blood all over me. His eyes became white.

He whined, and.. the pain my baby. My boy. It was the worst I had ever suffered. No.. beating nor burns nothing. Nothing compared. I demanded- what the fuck?? How is he puking his entrails, what. the. FUCK? I told mother- explain freely, or have it beaten from you. I was furious. Bloodlust.. I'm not.. I'm not happy to share this.. even here. But. It's true.

She took my shoulders. A soft voice.. What is this, I thought. She has only EVER been violent, been aggressive, hateful. She's.. only ever done this once- when.. she killed my snake.. My python..

She'd hated that thing. The bulbs kept bursting.. she was tired of replacing them. I came home.. it's head was flat. Guts trailed down its body. I asked her- then, I was 12- what happened?

She looked at me with the same eyes, same voice: "I'm sorry darling. Dehydration." I knew it was a lie..

And instantly, I smacked her away, hard, violently. I held my boy to me, and told her to get away. She tried to soothe me, running her hands on my shoulders. But I knew.

She told me a rival- some other druggie whore- had poisoned him. Anti-freeze. She said she would get revenge for me.

I told her nothing, not then. Spike began to die in my arms... more blood. Rage and anguish.. The ONLY THING ID EVER BEEN ALLOWED TO HAVE. Gone.

I took his body. Walked home, covered in his blood. I felt.. I.. don't know. Pain. Sorrow. I felt I needed to die; I failed him. I should have saved him, even if it meant killing that bitch. Such innocence.. my baby. And so innocent as God makes all creatures that aren't men, that aren't US.

I had a name- the would be poisoner. I confronted her- of all places- in her deathbed. Her family.. I.. don't take pride.. in it. I put the fear of God almighty into them. Me, this broken young boy, filled with vengeful rage... but it wasn't her. I was given proof- rivalry? Sure. They explained the truth. It was all mother. As expected. Mother tried to tell me this woman walked a week away from death, 3 hours into the wilderness to where my mother had been camped- yes, camped- to kill my dog. I was.. idek.

I flew into a rage. Hunted her. She fled.. think of this, I was beaten black and blue from 3 to 14. She.. ran??? From ME??? I didn't have proof concrete proof. But I knew she'd done it. She did. To this day.. I am haunted. Maybe any of who reads this will have already read the other horrors I've posted. For that, I am sorry. But.. this is all I have. I can almost forgive it...the pain. Tied in the dark. The.. other things. Beatings.. worse. Not just by her... I can almost, God damn it, I can almost forget... but my boy? No, no.. I can't. My poor boy. I rescued him from one hell, and I failed to prevent another. I hate Myself for it... I curse the world; I damn my mother that evil whore.. I.. it hurts so much. I'm sobbing even now. God.

My cats also magically disappeared, a year later. The story given, another lie.. She probably killed them too..

This is all so fucked up.. I know. I have so much pain. So much. Hurts so so bad. Want to be held by anyone; but too weak.. too scared. Try to.. talk to counselors. Can't. words choke me, I freeze. Anger and pain and sorrow.. and ALWAYS my Spike. My boy. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I was so weak and so scared. Boy or otherwise. I should have risked the winter. I should have died with him. Something, ANYTHING. and here I am now. 26 years old.. I feel 50. 100. I feel broken. I want to get help.. but I'm so scared to face this. God forgive me.. God please forgive me. Spike forgive

my boy my boy. forgive me for everything

If I live into my later years, let me be blessed with the death of memories. Dementia, or something.

I am so alone. No father to teach me how to carry myself.. Mother beyond evil and corrupted. Sought that I would be the same. Whole family is evil, all back stabbers and whores and drug peddlers. They deserve death.. no one came for me. That house fucking haunts me and I can't escape it. I can't talk to anyone I don't know how. I don't know how to be okay or how to vent. it will destroy me. it already is. I can't trust anyone properly. So much sorrow inside me so much rage and anguish. I want to die, but I haven't yet lived. All these stupid years of my cursed existence. Was this the life they wanted for me? to abuse and so horrifically scar me inside and out that I will never find peace?? What God supports this?? is He even there??? I pray. not one answers. God the pain inside is so tangible. I feel it in my mind and in my head and in my heart. So much pain. I want to scream or anything. anything to release me. is death the only way out?? Will I STILL be DAMNED after death?? Why won't it end??

I dont want to remember. I try to forget but I can't. I am alone and I'm scared, I feel like I did all those years ago. Locked in the dark but this time it's me holding the door shut. I wanted family I wanted to be a proper child. I can't have peace. The realization Dawn's on me that not all things that are broken can be fixed. Is that me too?? Surely one can see too much no? My sanity is.. gone, I'm just pain. all the time. I can smile or stay alone but doesn't matter I'm alone anyways. I'm dying this way likely. Can't think straight. Just nerves and memories and no end. no end to it. So much pain.. why why why didn't they just kill me at birth??

what do you think is coursing my knee pain.?

as it doesn't seem to be gettin any better.and it is effected by the weather .

I am eating on physio but the doctors aty go won't help me and won't give me the pain killers that I know work..so I'm left take medication that don't always work and I'm actually taking more that I should be to just be I a little bit less pain.

sometimes, i sit and think, why do i not remember my childhood? i'm 31 years old now and it's like a blank space before the age of ten. it's not that i've forgotten individual memories here and there; there's just nothing there at all!!! it's almost like those first formative years have vanished into thin air and i'm left wondering about who i was during that time.

it's weird because when people talk about their early memories or childhood stories, i just nod along as if i remember mine too. but deep down, it makes me feel kinda disconnected from others. everyone has these nostalgic tales to tell from their youth, yet i'm here drawing a complete blank on my own experiences. i've read about how some folks suppress memories due to trauma or stress but nothing significant pops out in my mind.

my parents never mentioned anything alarming that happened back then so could it be something else entirely? is it normal for someone to have wiped out the entire memory of a chunk of their life? it's hard not to wonder what kind of influence those missing years might have had on who i am today......am i overthinking this or is it something worth digging into?

maybe there's a scientific explanation for memory loss like mine (i came across articles mentioning things like 'childhood amnesia' but who can say for sure). ultimately though "Growing up means losing some illusions in order to acquire others." so while this whole thing keeps bugging me from time to time; i'll just keep searching for answers hoping one day something triggers those lost memories back.

Ever thought about sending an anonymous message just for the fun of it? That's me right now, fired up with the idea of sending a little cheeky note to my old boss. Yeah, the same old boss who had me doubting my sanity every day at work. You know how some folks just can't handle a simple email without turning it into a national crisis? Well, that was him. Non-stop drama over nothing! Seriously, I just want to shoot him one last message, totally anonymous but with that zing that'll have him guessing for weeks who's behind it.

I've been dreaming of dropping a classic 'Guess who?' bomb in his inbox. Maybe sprinkle in some inside jokes only our department would get... oh, the golden days when we secretly laughed at his bizarre obsession with using Comic Sans in all his emails. I don't want anything mean or harsh; rude might be more fitting though (just enough spice without crossing any lines). Think about something like: "Hey genius, your favorite font called, they need you back ;)" Can you imagine the face he'd make? Pure gold! The toughest part is figuring out how to keep it completely under wraps so it stays mysterious.

So how do you do this without getting caught and looking like a jerk? I was thinking maybe one of those online texting services—I've read mixed reviews though. Some swear by them while others say it's not foolproof. And if I'm feeling particularly stealthy, maybe creating a burner account for extra safety could work although that's a lot of effort for one quick thrill! Either way, it's about time someone played his game and gave him something to think about besides which shade of beige best suits the office walls. Have any of you done something similar before? Tips and tricks welcome!

Does anyone else have dreams of falling ALL the time? It's been happening almost every night lately, and I'm at a loss for what it means. 🤔 They come with this weird feeling, like my entire body's just been dropped into some abyss. I've read somewhere that it could be related to stress but who knows if that's true.

My job has been insane, so I think stress might actually be part of it. But seriously, these kinds of dreams are hardly new for me. They've haunted me since I was a kid yet now they're more frequent than ever and it's goddamn annoying. How am I supposed to get any decent sleep with this crap every night?

I've got this routine by now: fall asleep (pass out is more like), start dreaming stupid things (always nice chats where everything's fine), then BAM... Falling into nothingness again! Rude awakening doesn't even cover it. Like dude... my heart races like I just ran ten miles....

Everyone tells me "oh it's normal" or "you're fine" (like they know) but let's face it: waking up in a cold sweat with your pillow literally feeling soaked is NOT fun! What do normal people dream about anyway? Someone pinch me because I'm stuck in this eternal plummet loop and I'm over it.

I miss having my crew of friends. Moving to where I have, I'm new here. Got no one. With everything else.. it's just an odd thing for me. To be without friends.

i can't help but wonder if there's something genuinely wrong with me when I find myself concocting elaborate fictional scenarios in my head. it's almost compulsive, like an annoying mental itch that won't go away. i don't mean thinking about potential outcomes of real-life situations; no, this is entirely different. these are pure fabrications, stories that will never come to pass, yet they occupy my mind far too often. sometimes, it feels harmless, even enjoyable, like a little escape from the monotony of everyday life. but then reality hits back hard and I realize how much time I've wasted lost in these daydreams.

everyone probably does this to some extent, right? imagining what you would say or do in hypothetical situations that have zero chance of happening. but for me it feels excessive and unhealthy. hours can pass without me noticing until I snap back to reality. it's almost like I'm addicted to these mental movies playing constantly behind my eyes, distracting me from productive tasks or actual social interactions. is this just an overactive imagination or something more troubling? maybe I'm overthinking it...ha! there's irony.

there's a sense of detachment involved too... people ask what's wrong because I seem distracted or distant; little do they know I'm off fighting dragons or winning oscars for films that'll never be made. perhaps it's a coping mechanism? life isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows all the time so creating alternate realities could be my brain’s misguided attempt at stress relief?! still, part of me worries if this constant drifting into fiction means I'm not fully engaging with reality as much as I should be.

it certainly doesn't help that while stuck in these reveries frustrations build up since nothing gets accomplished: the dishes pile up the work emails go unanswered relationships stagnate under the weight of unspent attention; surely this must indicate some level of dysfunction? guess what bothers me most is questioning whether this escapism robs precious moments from genuine experiences...you know those rare times when you're truly present with others or actually achieving something worthwhile.

Here's the situation: I'm 22 and started dating my friend's sister, who's 20. Now he's mad at me. Why? I don't get it!!! I've seen the movies where this is a big deal, but isn't this the real world? We're not in high school anymore! Sure, I value his friendship, but am I supposed to avoid someone just because she's his sister?! It baffles me how something so personal could generate such an overreaction.

In terms of friendship dynamics, boundaries may have been crossed. But isn't life about evolving relationships? Hello!!! This is not some teenage drama but reality where adults make their own choices. We found mutual interest (and dare I say affection?) and simply decided to explore that further—nothing scandalous, just two consenting individuals making independent decisions.

Quoting friends who were supportive: 'It's fine if everyone involved is mature.' Well, clearly someone's lacking that maturity here. If he has a problem with it then maybe it's time for him to reevaluate what respect means. My respect for him hasn't diminished just because I'm dating his sister! Can't we be adults and handle this like grown-ups?

The question mark here remains: What did I do wrong?! How do you address a friend who's upset about something that seems perfectly logical and benign in adult relationships? Do friendships really suffer when matters of the heart are concerned??? 🤔 Please enlighten me!

I don't know, I don't like it when people ask about my life or what I do. It bothers me; they feel like they're meddling in very important matters, and I don't want them to. They should stick to what I can offer and stop there; I'm not obligated to explain anything. I feel like sometimes I have to, just like I have to share something in that other conversation, for no other reason than to prevent future problems. This contradiction happened to me recently, when I got chatty, giving details about my life thanks to questions—of course, all well-founded, fortunately. I feel like I did what my best friend at work does: she talks to others in a delicate way in front of me, with complete consideration for me, so I don't feel excluded, and without including herself in any group. It's something I deeply appreciate, that she doesn't want to leave but wants us to be together. Now, the question is, what has become of her? I don't know anything about her, even though we're in the same office. She's blocked me everywhere, even though we were friends, and now she's wondering where she is. This time when the office wasn't operating, at least not regularly, could have been a chance for us to go out, do things together, enjoy different things. I don't think my personal life is so dull that I can't fill that void, but that's just my assumption, and I can't open the group chat to ask her about it because of work. I also can't ask my boss to help me out.

Wow, with these people I encountered, and with whom I say I laid myself bare, the feeling of that vulnerability is somewhat uncomfortable, but it has its pleasant touch because it feels liberating. At the same time, it abruptly pulls you out of that solitude, the kind you enjoy being in. And indeed, I have to admit, it felt somewhat overwhelming. However, I think that was essentially because of what my relationship with it entailed, which had become rather heavy, rather complex, because I was dealing with things I was used to, things I couldn't distance myself from, because it wasn't necessary. But now I am, in order to truly see these people who I see have an extraordinary familiarity with what my boss and the young woman have been. I'm tired of writing so much, but this also helps me stay prepared for the upcoming meeting they announced, which is practically a mandatory gathering. It really does abruptly pull one out of a period where one had become accustomed to a certain way of life. They're annoying, and the boss is constantly putting pressure on me.

I don't feel like I need people right now; I'm not interested in them. I like my solitude as long as I can enjoy it. The thing is, it also requires a certain stability, and working under irregular conditions doesn't provide that. So, it's a balancing act between this pleasant solitude—perhaps extreme, but only due to cultural factors—and, at the same time, between the work itself and its social implications. I'm tired of operating according to the job because it's an overwhelming demand, a real burden. I have to be constantly on guard so no one catches me off guard, maintain relationships, and do my job in a way that no one can complain. It's a lot of things that make me feel that the best thing that could have happened—with all due respect to the unfortunate implications—was the tragedy in my country. That tragedy was a miracle for me because it allowed me to be exempt from work, to break free from those chains. I had been needing a break for some time, partly due to events that had occurred there, such as my moving in with my friend and my group, and my boss's departure, along with the group itself, and the continuation of the same old work routine. I was overwhelmed by what had happened and had been carrying it for a while, so this sudden vacation was a welcome relief.

I won't deny that I'd like to enjoy being with the people I met, but right now I need to embrace my solitude, to be with my thoughts and the ideas that come from them, to disconnect from all social interaction as much as possible. Thank you so much for everything, I'm very grateful, but it's time for me to move on with my life, to focus on my own things. I mean, I've already built the life I want, and I can't go any further right now. I have to look after what I've built, and it was hard work, and I can't abandon it. That's not my style. I'm the type to persevere for what I've accomplished, and it was very well done. With the young woman, I have a relationship where shyness, but not in a limiting way, is allowed—a bit of communication, even hugs. And with my boss, I've finally managed to keep things strictly professional, without him taking things any further. Basically, I'm living the life I want, and I really can't take on any more. I need this break. I'm not interested in any other relationships.

I'm completely exhausted from dealing with relationships. I don't want any more. I don't want to be involved with even one more, taking exams, or studying, because the ones I already have completely absorb me, and I don't like it. I feel like I understand a girl I knew a while ago who was in a similar situation. In fact, what happened with my best friend was the reverse of me towards her. Ironically, with this girl, who isn't my best friend, I ended up in a pleasant, everyday relationship, with me in control of the reactions, while my best friend was always in control. This girl somehow became entangled in a relationship she had, where she was controlled by someone, someone she had to answer to, and all that. It's similar to what I went through with my boss, which simply consisted of being there for work. I'm sure the girl was just there to serve that relationship, because with me, that kind of thing completely disappeared. Well, actually, she doesn't speak to me anymore, but it's not a total impasse. In my opinion, now that I think about it, it was the other way around: I have the same kind of relationship with my best friend that she has with her boyfriend, and I have the same kind of relationship with my boss that she has with me. However, thinking about it now, I think that's silly; it's the other combination.

One thing that led me to do what my best friend did, to put us in a group, was wanting to know what that girl, who isn't my best friend, felt. I feel like that's what motivated me. Also, I felt trapped by my boss, who was pushing me further whenever he could, taking advantage of my image, which I could have built by defending my principles elsewhere. However, I always managed to defend myself. He planned to sow doubt in me, to keep me at his mercy; that was his plan, his lust for power. But I didn't allow it. Instead, with my best friend's help, I managed to completely shatter his image, to the point where work is now the only thing on my mind. I think that's what the girl would have wanted with a relationship, or at least something purely casual, and instead, with me, she's someone to answer to, of course, under a convenient arrangement for both of us. But the truth is, she only sees me as the one who wanted to support her and didn't abandon her, and still hasn't, and who's there for her whenever she needs him. That's definitely not the story that happened to me, because I did something. I knew how to move all the pieces to get rid of my boss. She couldn't do that. I wasn't going to stay at his mercy, definitely not. He wasn't going to have me, especially not with someone who was always running from everything and doing whatever he wanted. And boy, was he constantly trying to fit in somehow, all to maintain his image, because anything he did outside could call into question his ability to make choices. Now I see why I left him, and anyone in my shoes would have done the same.

The guy was really nice, but he was definitely playing me, and that scares me. (I made a post a while ago, but the character limit wasn't the same as usual, which is strange.) I don't feel comfortable with him. I don't see a happy future with him in that sense because he was too careful with those details, way too much, and it felt like our relationship was very forced. That's why I don't like him. I don't feel capable of saying no; I just want to be led by his guidance, and I'm tired of being led, especially not on the streets. He thinks I'm a good fit for him, of course, there's that interaction, but I don't want to be involved in that; it's not my style. I also don't want to be part of another group, a family group I ended up in. I'm not interested. The woman was very kind to me, but no. Both she and the other person were kind enough to let me be free, but I'm not interested in going any further. I don't feel like I want to be part of other groups because I have enough with the one I have now, a friend I met at work, my best friend. I have the protection I need and I can navigate my solitude as I please. These other people offer pleasant company and coordinated contact, but it's not what I'm looking for. I like how I am, finding solace in my solitude and allowing spontaneity to be what unites us, what enables our encounters. I want to feel as prepared as possible for each one. With the others, however, I find myself in a comfort zone, and I don't like it. I don't feel capable of doing everything possible to remain reflective, to remain at the mercy of the various pressures that our relationship entails, pressures that allow me to be prepared for diversity. In other words, I love that individuality is a driving force, although I won't deny that as a result, I've felt a strong urge to flee back to normality, to the usual routine. But that's not what's right for me right now, it's not what I want, it's not what makes me reflective. But the encounters themselves do.

I'm grateful that the groups I've been in have been perfect for me—pleasant, friendly, and with the option to return whenever I want, without feeling threatened or anything like that. But I feel good as I am; I enjoy the life I've built, and I definitely don't need to run away from it. That lady, she was very kind to her family, with a warm welcome, a gradual, cautious, and open approach. In contrast, my friend is rather closed off, decisive, pompous with her surroundings, and focused on immediate gratification. It's not easy because there's no support from her environment, not at all. In fact, with my boss, there's absolutely no support from his inner circle for his actions. On the other hand, with the young man, there is support from his circle; everything's cool, everything's fine. But I don't want to be dependent on his environment. I don't want an environment that supports me or that supports them; I want independence from it. I want to create my own environments, not live off something pre-made, as is the case with them. For some reason, I'm afraid that speaking ill of them will cause me problems, that it will make them afraid that I'm on my own. And that's precisely why I decided to act in a way that closes the relationship, addressing those things that do happen, but it's just a temporary thing, not something significant, because I always need to reflect. That's what I like; that's what helps me with the career I envision.

These people turned out to be open, pleasant, and very kind, with an extraordinary and well-deserved openness. But the relationships I've built have come at the cost of hard work, step by step, and that's what keeps me moving forward—not to run away, but to preserve what I have. And in part, I admit, these other people don't want to leave either, to have someone else in their lives. They accept the effort, but it turns out they already have many things to do; they're already used to it, indeed tired, but it's only a temporary situation. It was nice to meet people like me, but no longer alone, but active in the world, within an environment, within a life built on social standards. In other words, there was a way to be myself in those labyrinths. However, there's always the restriction, and that's what justifies me continuing as always: embracing solitude, which doesn't impose reins, doesn't weigh me down, and only to the point where it maintains a great deal of limitation. In both people, I found excesses in the very aspects I adore: the social and the reflective, the individual, well-supported. Yet, I still found them constrained, and that makes me feel limited by them. Their stage is as delicate, in the long run, as that of other people I compare them to—I already mentioned my best friend at the office, but there's also my boss—regarding that openness, which I've always wanted, and the respectful openness that embraces it, that's in tune with the times and in accordance with his way of doing things.

My idea in the world isn't to seek out opposites.

My goal in life isn't to run away from what I have, but rather to appreciate it, and these people have allowed me to do just that. In the end, they helped fill the void left by both my boss and the girl. However, it's not something to take any further, because, let's face it, something perfect at first is hard to maintain, especially in circumstances free from pressure. When pressure arises, you see the same old thing again. They were undoubtedly very attractive, but it's not something to get carried away with at first.

Well, I've been writing for quite some time now, and I'm getting tired of the same old thing. My encounter with these people was perfectly timed; it just so happened that I had finished making my final notes regarding the story that had unfolded between my boss and the girl, my best friend. I hadn't delved into such insights, but this was my opportunity to do so, precisely what I was looking for: a kind of social commentary that would allow me to see what happened with these people from a possible outside perspective, from another window. Before, I relied solely on writings of a still generic, technical nature, without using everyday language. I went straight to the details and not the generalities, and that's what I have now. How tiring! And yet, I feel I can go back to my usual place and nothing will happen to me. I feel safe, without that emotional issue, without that fear that something might happen, which I have to admit I experience with the girl and my boss—that is, at the office. Everything happens at the office; I'm constantly on edge when they're both there. They make me incredibly nervous, and I don't like it. Even if the girl isn't there, the question is when she'll be back, and that's a problem. This is what makes me long for a better world, to seek other people who can give me a break, but that's impossible. That's why I need this distance, because otherwise I'll fall into the trap of abuse, out of habit, and these people will probably leave me, but then conflict will arise.

I never imagined I'd express this level of stress because of them. It's too much, and it's what makes me want to run out of the office, to be unfaithful, because none of them do anything at all to be with me, while these other people do. I'm the one carrying the weight of everything, maintaining harmony, so I don't fall apart. Both my boss and the woman help out, but it's a small thing. The chance for dialogue is nonexistent; I always have to rely on them, not the other way around. I feel overwhelmed, and no one seems to notice, and expressing it would only bring me more problems. The sensitivity of these two people is extraordinary. Of course, we went through a process where everything changed, but they don't take responsibility for that; instead, I'm the one who has to carry the burden. That's what has kept me away from the office all this time—to give myself a break, a rest that goes unacknowledged, because no one sees what I had to do to avoid succumbing to either of them.