Life Stories and Everyday Drama

t’s 2025, and let’s be honest by now, everyone and their cat knows about the Law of Attraction. “Just think about it and boom, the universe delivers.” I actually tried it once, and guess what? It kinda worked! Like the universe looked at me and went, “Alright queen, here you go, enjoy a little glow-up.”

Now I’m back, knocking on the universe’s door like, “Hi again, I’m ready! I want a whole new lifemarriage, kids, a family, maybe even a sprinkle of romantic feelings.” The only tiny little problem? I’ve got major trust issues with the opposite sex. Like, Olympic-level rejection vibes. Thanks, past trauma!

So I sit with myself and ask, “What do I really want?” Do I want a simple life where I wake up early, make breakfast for my husband and kids, wait for them to get home from school, cook something warm, help them with homework, and we live humbly ever after?

Or should I shoot for the luxury package—big house, personal assistants, iced coffee delivered to my bedside, and I don’t lift a finger unless it’s to tap ‘add to cart’? I mean, who doesn’t want that? My entire wardrobe would scream brand names louder than my inner voice.

But the thing is, both lives have perks. In the modest life, I’d get love, attention, real connection. In the luxury life, sure I’d be comfy, but I might miss out on the joy of making my kid a simple chocolate milk and watching their face light up. Because, well… someone else would probably be doing that stuff. I might not even remember which kid is in which grade.

So here I am, confused. I don’t know what to choose. And please, spare me the “Pick what’s right for you” advice—I don’t know what’s right for me! That’s literally why I’m asking.

But one thing I do know? I’ve made the decision. I’m ready to change. I’m ready to start. I’m ready to love. So dear universe, stop playing hard to get. I’m manifesting—big time.

Right, so I'm from Northern England, and in the area where I'm from we drop our t's. A lot. And we all have quite broad accents.

I've always loved my accent, and thought it was a fun accent.

Now, my dad is from a city a bit away where they do have a Northern accent, but they dont drop their t's, he also went to speech therapy as a kid and because of this speaks a but more poshly than your average Northerner.

He always teases me about how I say 'letter' or 'butter' and all that, and I didn't mind. I just thought his jokes were funny.

But recently, he's started to become annoyed at my accent. It's not gotten worse or anything, it's the same as usual.

We had a minor argument where he said my accent made him sad and annoyed.

I thought he was joking, but he wasn't.

He started going on to me about how he wished I 'spoke properly' and that it'll be harder in life if I keep my accent. At how he wished I spoke like him, and how sad my accent made him.

But I can't bloody change my accent, in my opinion, it's part of my identity, its part of me. It felt like he was asking me to change my eye colour, change my body type.

I told him that I couldn't really change it, and he told me I should try.

And now, I just feel ashamed. I feel guilty for having my accent, and for the first time, I dont love my voice anymore.

I hate my accent now, and I can't even change it.

Really I just want to know if my dad is in the right here. Do I really need to change my accent, is it not acceptable?

I don't know if I am being too dramatic about it or not, but today for the first time my mom is not at home and its just me and my father. She has gone to meet her cousins for a few days. I don't know but there is a strange silence in the entire house. I was mostly alone at home throughout the day and its hitting me so hard that its her presence that makes this house, home. And now when she's not here, it feels like my home is missing. I don't know if its because my periods are due or I am actually sad, but its not even 24 hours and I have already cried multiple times. I wasn't living at home for the past 6 years because of college so I didn't really realise her absence much but I don't know I am feeling very guilty about not spending enough time with her when she's at home. She's busy with her work and I am mostly at my own. I really regret not spending much time with her. And who knows how much time do I have left with her. I'm just overthinking about it but life is so unpredictable.

I'm 16 and my mom has been telling me to kill myself. I might as well consider it. There is no point in anything I really want things to end.

But despite every curse from this fuckass universe,

I want to know how it feels like to grow up and live

I want to know it feels like to NOT feel like this

I still want to watch new seasons of my favourite shows

I still want to taste flavours which Ive never tried

I still want to read many books

And i still want to watch my little siblings grow

If i die now,

I will be selfish enough to not consider the well being of my siblings

Maybe I'll be more of a burden, only dead

Maybe i will be cursed till the depths of hell for all the money i made them waste on me.

No matter what, i just know that i never wanted any of this

I just wish my parents were more than the title itself

In my country there are different kinds of curriculum that you study at school, so I studied the full English syllabus. One of my professors got to know about this a few days ago and from that day he started to act weird. He randomly asked me in a mocking tone if I knew about a specific topic ( our syllabus literally covered more than whatever he is teaching ) then at lab he lashed out on me by saying “didn’t you study english curriculum, then why the hell is your english like this”, basically I’m new to the whole lab report thing so I’m still figuring it out by myself as there was no guidance so I mistakenly wrote it in present tense instead of past tense.

He said this in front of the entire class, in front of everyone. Obviously I’m going to give my all and improve but there were many other people who did similar mistakes or got lower marks but he didn’t say anything to them.

I don’t know, like scold me for my mistakes I’ll understand but continuously mocking me/insulting me because I studied a different curriculum is just…….. bad. I am probably overreacting and overthinking about this.

I'll try to keep this short but, there's this girl I met at school through a friend group. We didn't talk much, just an occasional comment to one another. Then when our schedules got changed we found ourselves spending two classes together and it wasn't too bad. She was funny, interesting and unique. She had opinions that most people (including myself sometimes) didn't agree with, but I always admired the way she wasn't afraid to voice them even if others disagreed. She made me feel things. She made me feel wanted, like she actually wanted to be around me, made me feel as if being around me wasn't a chore. She always looked me in my eyes when I spoke, as if she was hanging onto to every word I said and committed it to memory. I mentioned liking apple and fruits one time and she went out of her way to get fresh farm apples. It wasn't anything special but just to know that she was thinking of me had me shocked. Most people I talk to usually forget what I tell them after an hour, but not her, she remembered everything. She once asked me to attend a field trip to a boring museum that neither of us had any interest in attending. When I told her I didn't want to go because it was boring, she said it'll be less boring because we're with each other. Naturally I started to develop what I think are feelings but I'm not sure. Were both lesbians, and she told me she always wanted another gay friend so I didn't want to make her feel weird just because I caught a baby crush. So I try to distance myself but only found myself thinking of her on my way back home every day. When summer came around she asked for my number that way we could talk and video chat. I never had many friends so maybe I'm romanticizing something very platonic. I don't think I'll ever tell her how I feel. I know I love her, but I'm really sure if that love is platonic or romantical. For now though, I wanna confess how important our friendship is to me, how deeply I appreciate her. I don't wanna ruin what we have but sometimes, late at night, I remember the way she talks to me, the way she subtlety touches me, the way she lays her head on my shoulder, and each night, my heart aches. Deep down I know I'm looking too deep especially when she has another friend who she never stops talking about, as if she loves her to her dying breath. Each time she does, I feel so overwhelmed with a jealousy that I know I have no right to feel. Perhaps I'm just young and confused?

Is anyone else scared of what's waiting after high school??? I’m 17, and it feels like every day the pressure gets heavier. My teachers treat me like I’m invisible or like I’m already a lost cause. When I try to ask for help, they either don’t care or act like I’m stupid. One teacher literally said, “You need to start acting like an adult,” when I forgot a homework deadline—and I just stood there thinking: how? No one’s showing me how. Other students don’t make it easier. I don’t fit in, I never have. Group projects? Hell. Presentations? Worse. It’s like I’m watching everyone else pass me by while I’m stuck behind this wall I don’t know how to climb. My grades reflect it all. I try, I honestly do, but the more I fail, the less I believe trying makes a difference. “You need better time management,” they say, but how do you manage time when your brain won’t even let you breathe properly during a test? It’s like school has become this constant performance where I'm always getting the worst reviews.

And after school? What then??? I’m supposed to figure out what I want to do with my life when I can’t even survive one normal week without breaking down? I see people applying to universities, making LinkedIn profiles, talking about internships like they’re already halfway to some successful career... Meanwhile, I’m Googling “what jobs can you get with bad grades.” I’ve looked into vocational programs, but even those say things like “applicants must demonstrate motivation and focus.” What if I don’t have that yet? What if all I have is fear??? People keep throwing around words like “gap year” and “self-discovery,” but that just sounds like stalling to me. Isn’t adulthood supposed to come with stability? Direction? I feel like I’m walking toward a cliff, not a future. My mom says, “You’ll figure it out,” but what if I don’t?? What if I’m one of those people who just never figures it out? It’s hard to stay hopeful when all I see are closed doors and people who seem to have keys I don’t.

Maybe this is just part of growing up. Maybe everyone feels this way at some point; but why does no one say it out loud then? I read somewhere, “Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others,” and I think about that a lot. Like, was I naïve to think life would feel more solid at this point? Is adulthood just pretending you’re not scared all the time?? I keep wondering if I’m broken or just behind, if this is temporary or permanent. People talk about resilience and mindset, but they don’t talk about how exhausting it is to build those things while drowning. I don’t want to give up—seriously, I don’t—but what if I already have and just haven’t admitted it? Does anyone else feel like they’re being pushed into the future with no idea what they're doing? Because I do. And I don’t think that’s something a motivational quote is going to fix.

So about 2 weeks ago my best friend found out one of the girls he was talking too was also talking to me and he also found out we had sex 2 nights prior.. So he hit me up on a friday like any other weekend and said he wanted to hang out so I invited him over. As soon as he got there i was already in my pajama pants bc it was like 8:00 at night and these pants are kinda thick bc they are like a fuzzy material (but they are no where near as thick as blue jeans which is why he caused so much damage i think) and i didnt have underwear on bc of how soft the pants were i didnt really need any but anyways, he immediately brought up the situation and I told him it wasn't that big of a deal and as soon as I said that he reached between my legs with one hand and grabbed and pulled my dick upwards and kinda twisted it leaving my balls wide open and he was really able to get a grip on it bc i wasnt wearing underwear and with his other hand he punched me in the balls 4 times it was enough force i remember it making my eyes roll back and it made me moan which was kinda strange but that was just a natural sound that came out i went to the doctor 3 days after it happened bc the swelling never went down but all the doctor said was they were going to be extremely sore for a couple weeks they are still a little swollen now and extremly sore but the girl that started all this has no idea what happened and I plan on keeping it that way lol

(T.w.: Mentions of Self Harm)

Alright! I had a history of self harm when I was younger, but stopped after a couple of years, but then a couple of months ago I was feeling upset with myself and insane guilt especially when it came to my studying, so I thought of ways I could " punish" myself when i didnt study so that I relieve myself of the intense guilt, like basically consequences for my actions, and my brain was like why not self harm? So I went back to it. It felt so good?,after I finish and sit with the pain I would be reminded that I paid of my dues and thus there is no reason to feel guilty, then I would go study and the pain would be a very nice reminder.

I was always careful, just cutting enough to bleed but not a huge scar, i didnt want anyone to know and think im asking for attention..

BUT one day, same thing happened, I didn't study so I went to self harm then planned to start studying immediately, but I dont know what I did differently that time? I cut myself and suddenly I'm seeing the pink of the dermis and a pretty long cut with lots of blood.. long story short, I needed stitches, had to tell my parents a very odd story of me somehow falling on glass? and went to the doctor.. I didnt even end up getting stitches, because I waited for 3 days before I fessed up and it was too late, but it was infected and so I was put on antibiotics. Very likely I'll scar for life. It felt like I was being branded for my mistakes and the control was taken away from me. I didn't allow myself to think about it for the next 2 weeks... and I couldnt for the life of me get myself to study eventhough I had a very large exam. I hated how it was gapping, how it opened when I moved, I didn't want to see it or feel it. If I try to get myself to get over it I would get these intrusive thoughts of putting a knife into it till I reached the bone. ( I would never ever do that) I didn't care about the wound itself, infact if I got it by an accident or so I wouldnt have been that bothered by it, but the fact that I caused harm, even to my own body this way was so ? Jarring ?? I know its pretty late in the story to mention this, but I am a medical student. It felt like... I didn't deserve to be a doctor, that I can't possibly be.. Eventhough I put so much effort to get in. Anyway back to the story, even when I procrastinated in the past I never lost control as much as I felt this time, and despite the exam looming close I never could get myself to study properly.. so I sorta didn't. Eventhough I wouldve never studied this way in the past, no matter where I was I would always put in enough effort atleast. The worst exam ive ever given in my life. And I can't even get myself to think about it. I don't know how will I ever forgive myself for all this, it just feels like the self hatred is building and I dont know where I stand. Marks are very important where I am in life right now, imagining that I would ruin my future because of this mistake is like?

Eventhough deep down i dont believe in this, I completely believe everything happens for a reason and for a good one, but I just can't for the life of me stomach the haterd, guilt and blaming I feel for myself.

How do I forgive myself for all this? Can I ever be a good doctor the way i am? How will I ever regain control? I lost it, over my body, over my studying... i have no trust in myself anymore.

Life can feel impossibly heavy sometimes. I am 46 years old, and while I can’t claim to know exactly what you're going through, I do know the shape of pain. I’ve carried it, too. I’ve sat alone in the dark hours wondering if things would ever get better, or if this—this version of life filled with loss, fear, or doubt—was all there would be. But I’m still here, and so are you. That’s not nothing. In fact, it’s the first and most important thing. You’re still here. That means hope still lives within you, even if it’s quiet and hiding.

What you are facing today may feel endless. You might be reading this because everything hurts more than you expected. And maybe you're wondering if it ever stops, if people really come out the other side. I won’t lie to you and say it’s easy or that it ends quickly. Some pain leaves slowly; some parts of us change along the way. But what I can promise is that healing is not a myth. It’s not reserved for the lucky. It’s real, and it finds its way into lives even when it seems impossible. Sometimes, we don’t even notice the moment things begin to shift—until one day, we wake up and the weight is just a little lighter.

I read many stories here. Stories of heartbreak, of confusion, of people feeling forgotten. I want to say something very simple to each of you: it’s going to be okay. Not perfect, not always clear—but okay. Life doesn’t always tie itself into neat conclusions, but it does offer us new chapters. You have to stay long enough to see them. Please, hang in there. Do not let a temporary moment convince you that things are permanently broken. I’ve seen change in my own life—when I had no job, no partner, no direction—and I found a path again, slowly. You can too; I truly believe that.

So if you are in that dark place right now, please ask yourself: what would happen if I gave tomorrow one more chance? Maybe that’s all you need to do today—just make the decision to continue. Take rest when you need it. Let your heart mend at its own pace. You don’t have to be strong every minute. You just have to keep showing up for yourself. And if no one has told you today, let me be the one to say: you matter. Your pain matters. Your story is not over ❤️

I’ve been married for five years, and for most of that time, it truly felt like I was living in a dream. We rarely fought, shared the same values, and were building a life together that felt stable, even joyful. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her.

But everything changed last year when she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was aggressive. We tried everything — surgery, chemo, second opinions — but none of it helped. Now we’ve moved into palliative care. The focus is no longer on saving her, just on easing the pain.

A few weeks ago, she sat me down and told me something I wasn’t expecting. She said she had reconnected with her ex-boyfriend after her diagnosis. That at first, it was just talking — reminiscing, catching up — but over time, she realized she still had feelings for him. She told me she still loved me, but that she also loved him. And now, in what may be the final months of her life, she wanted to explore that connection again — not instead of me, but alongside me. She asked me to support her in it.

I asked if she had cheated, and she swore she hadn’t. She said it’s just been emotional, not physical. But I couldn’t shake what it meant. I tried to understand. I told her she was free to do what she wanted — I wouldn't make this any harder by talking about separation or divorce — but I also told her that I couldn’t keep pretending we were still the same couple. I couldn’t hold onto the version of us I thought was real, not with this hanging between us. Something had broken.

She was hurt, and I get why. She ended up going to stay with her parents. Since then, most of the people around me have turned cold. They see me as the one who walked away, the one who abandoned her when she needed support most. And maybe that’s true. Maybe I should’ve found a way to just accept it — to be there, unconditionally, knowing this is the end. But I couldn’t. I still can’t.

It's all coming apart, and it is my fault.

I am an Indian. I know to keep it anonymous but revealing my nationality brings me no harm.

A day ago, I was writing my in-progress novel. It was nearing 11 PM. I went to get my night dress from the room in which I sleep (it's not mine, I don't exactly have my own room in this house, but that's no worry), and went to the washroom to change. My brother was watching TV. I told him to turn it off by the time I return. He always dismisses everything I say, because I'm the useless sort in the house. So of course he dismissed this.

I returned from the bathroom and pushed against the door to the room in which my brother was, and it didn't open. I went to the balcony to try the other spare entrance, but that door was locked too. My uncle and grandmother were asleep. They heard me bang the door, and my uncle appeared out of his room. I told him what was wrong and he tried several bizarre methods of unlocking a door, calling out my brother's name, turning the door handle over and over.

Truth was that my brother had fallen asleep while watching TV. It was late night, wasn't it? The fucker locked the door from the inside for a reason even I don't know. He was in a deep slumber, that my uncle's or my voice didn't reach him loudly enough to wake him.

My grandmother can't walk without her cane. She has fat legs, and lung problems, so she kept saying how him (brother) locking the door rattled her and how her body was shaking. I tried to calm her down.

Mother and father had gone to dinner, so grandmother phoned them to return home ASAP, because father keeps a bunch of keys with him, one of which would fit the door's lock and unlock it. We just had to wait. I waited patiently and calmly through the tension, because panic would have been fuel to the fire.

Even amidst all this, grandmother and uncle kept saying how I was the one who went to the washroom, I was the one who left him alone, and henceforth I'm the irresponsible one. I tried to tell them I am no prophet, I wouldn't have in any case known that the idiot would lock the door while I'm away, much less fall asleep. It wasn't my fault, no matter how one saw it.

Father returned with mother in a few more moments, grabbed the keys and unlocked the room's door. Brother lay sleeping. I slapped him awake (literally) and then uncle and mother entered the room. Uncle didn't say much to him, since he is a little better than controlling his anger than the other two.

Father hit him and slapped him and kept asking him to why he locked the damn door, and mother stopped him by saying that he was still groggy and shit and hugged him. Father kept shouting. All was going well for me until...

Petty grandmother mentioned how I went to the washroom and left the little fucker alone for 15 MINUTES. Hear that? 15 MINUTES. Not even 20. I sometimes sing or think out some plots for my books in the bathroom, so I sometimes lose track of time, but that night I was more than a 100% certain I was gone for only and only 15 minutes.

I had tried all the ways and techniques I could to convince the old woman otherwise but noooo, I'm the one at fault. Always.

I shouted in frustration, that IT WASN'T ME. And guess what? Father got mad. Grabbed me. Slapped me once. Shouted in my ears. Gripped me by the arm and told me not to "look that way at him" because I wasn't meeting his eyes. My mother just stood there. My uncle told him to not hurt me. So he just yelled. Grandmother said nothing.

And then the next day my mother, the woman I despise for so many reasons, comes to "talk" with me (translation: scold and control me). I have not spoken to father since that night, it's been only one day. I wanted him to apologize. He had no reason to hit me. Why can't adults just hit their heads somewhere and understand that they are NOT the wise owls they think they are, that they glorify themselves as?

The woman told me that it was wrong of me to treat father that way, and because the two humans gave birth to me, they "have every right to hit me". NO YOU FUCKING DON'T. I AM NOT YOUR PROPERTY. Child or not, I am my own person who believes that hitting does nothing but give a child trauma for life, make them fear adults, FEAR THE MERE SENSE OF TOUCH, feel like they are at the adult's mercy, or worse, teach them hitting = making the child realize what's right.

That's where the title comes in. Ego and self-respect. Often....Most of the time,... okay nevermind, always, these two words are confused and used synonymously in this blasted Indian parenting universe. ..Fuck I hate this country (ps: I am not patriotic at all).

Mother told me to "lower my ego", as she put it. What I have isn't ego. I simply respect myself enough to know that I don't stand with the wrong. I don't care who does it. Wrong stays wrong. And I feel sorry for those who have no idea of self-respect. I feel sorry for their self-esteem.

Mother told me that children must apologize, that adults never do so because.... they're adults. Okay. I get that they are older than me. They have been on this planet longer than I have. They have seen things I haven't. BUT SIMILARLY, I have seen things they haven't. We're equal. We're also equal on the fact that at the end, we're all humans with a load of emotions.

Mother justified father hitting me because he was terrified for my brother and did it in a fit of rage. So if I yell in a fit of rage, that is not justified? Then you will hit me for raising my voice? He's lucky I'm not 18 yet, and that I don't have any malicious intent. Hitting a woman is assault, ain't it?

Mother told me that father works and wonders day and night for me and my education... But have they ever thought for my inner well-being? NO. BECAUSE THAT IS JUST A HALLUCINATION. IT'S NOT EVEN THERE. I get to hear that money buys no happiness, and no they contradict their own statement, implying that technically, money DOES buy happiness.

I'm not happy. I'm depressed, angry, broken, neglected, sad, hurt and hopeless. And if I tell them this, I'll get hit by the "you're only 17" reply. Because apparently they are stuck in their own angsty life to help me with mine.

They tell me I'm rude. Well, sent me to a fucking therapist then! I want help but can't they get the hint that I'm not able to express it to them because they are all daft shitheads? Why can't I express? They've given me no reason to bestow them with my trust. I trust my friends more. For me, water is thicker than blood. I don't even know who wrote the stupid saying anyways.

Mother told me to make him a sorry card and buy him a chocolate. Okay, I'll do it. Not because I want to, but because I'm genuinely tired of this woman's idiocy. First she neglects me and constantly fawns over brother ("he's younger than you) and now she tries to give me lessons in lowering my "ego"? I have ego, I won't deny. But this, this isn't ego. It's a strong sense of respect for my own being. Every time I try to cultivate it, they kill it in one way or another.

Please treat your children better. They don't deserve this. They are not your puppets. Not your property. They are yours to take care of, so stop doing things that make them grow distant.

It's amazing to know that a 17-yo has a better sense of parenting than two parents combined.

I honestly don’t know how to even start this but I’ll just try and let it out. So I’m 19 and I’m in my first ever real relationship with a guy (and... I am a guy too). I didn’t plan on it or whatever, it just happened and I thought it was gonna be this amazing thing, like everything would fall into place. And at first, it kinda felt that way, I guess. He made me feel seen in ways that girls never really did. Not saying girls were bad or something, it just always felt like something was missing and then when he came along, it felt like maybe that missing piece showed up. But now I’m here and I’m realizing I love him but I don’t think I love him enough to make this work. And that sucks so bad. Like, what even is “enough love”? How do you measure that? All I know is I feel like I’m constantly trying to make things feel right and they just never do.

He’s got this energy that’s just… different. Not just different from mine, I mean opposite. Like oil and water type deal. He’s loud and sarcastic and super confident in a way that sometimes makes me feel invisible or like I’m just tagging along. I’m quieter, more chill, and I don’t like all the fighting and teasing. He says I’m “too sensitive” but I don’t think that’s fair. Like yeah maybe I take things to heart but that doesn’t mean he gets to walk all over my feelings. The other night he joked in front of his friends that I’m boring and even if he said “he was just messing,” it stayed in my head for days. That kinda stuff isn’t cool to me. I told him it hurt and he just laughed and said I was being dramatic. Is that how someone’s supposed to care about you? Like seriously?

And then there’s the part of me that feels like I’m the bad one for thinking of leaving. Like, what if I never find someone again? What if this is just how it’s supposed to feel? Maybe all relationships are just about learning to deal with stuff and I’m just being selfish. But isn’t it also true that being in love should make you feel safe and supported? I’m tired of always second-guessing myself. Every time I bring up something that bothers me, he flips it on me or makes me feel guilty like I’m making things up. I’ve caught myself keeping quiet just to avoid fights. That’s not healthy, right? But then again, maybe I’m overthinking things and being picky? I mean this is my first time in something like this… maybe I just suck at relationships.

So yeah. I’m stuck. I care about him a lot, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I also feel like I’m slowly losing parts of myself trying to keep him happy. I don’t feel like he truly sees me anymore. I feel more like a background character in his life than a boyfriend. I don’t want to be someone who stays in something just because they’re scared to leave. But I also don’t want to walk away too fast and regret it. If you’ve been in this kinda situation before, what did you do? How do you know when it’s really time to break up with someone? How do you stop loving someone who isn’t really right for you?

I used to dream of having a home, a family… a life filled with love and warmth.

But now, just thinking about it makes me feel sick

love doesn’t feel beautiful anymore. It feels heavy, even disgusting.

Maybe because I’ve been through so many failed relationships.

Maybe because I once loved someone narcissistic who made me hate everything love stands for.

Maybe because I gave so much of myself to people… and got nothing back.

Now, I feel numb. Like I’ve lost the part of me that used to feel.

Sometimes my mind drifts toward physical desire, but even that feels wrong. I’m a Muslim, I’m Arab and that alone comes with its own struggle and shame 😁

So I hold myself back. Alone. Every single time.

And maybe that’s why I started resenting men — or even the idea of starting something new with anyone.

I feel lonely, yes. Deeply lonely.

But I’ve pulled away from everyone. I barely talk to people anymore. I just bury myself in work and try not to feel.

I just want to feel okay again.

I want to be normal. To be human again. Like I used to

i’m 34 and honestly, i’ve put up with way too much crap at this job. harassment, gossip, constant side-eyes, and let’s not even talk about the disgusting comments from mark in accounting. my boss knows all of it. i told him straight up. twice. and what did he say? “oh, he’s just like that, don’t take it personally.” excuse me? the hell does that even mean? so now i’m done. i’m out. but here’s the kicker: i don’t even know how to say it. i want to walk in there, look him dead in the eye and say, “you failed.” because that’s what he did. he failed me. but how do you quit a job where the management doesn’t care about the people and just watches them drown? i keep drafting this email in my head and it always ends with “go to hell,” which is probably not HR-friendly, right?

anyway, i’ve been thinking back to all the little things. like the time i was working late and heard one of the guys say “she’s only here late to flirt with the boss.” what the actual hell. or how i wore a dress one day and someone asked if i was “trying to get promoted the old-fashioned way.” it’s been months of this garbage and not once did anyone step in. i even documented it. emails. screenshots. dates. times. nothing changed. my therapist told me, “you teach people how to treat you.” well, i guess i taught them i’m easy to ignore. not anymore. i’m not gonna play nice. but still, how do i tell him without flipping a desk? “dear boss, i’m leaving because you’re a coward and a spineless fraud who lets his team rot”? too much? maybe. but am i wrong?

maybe the right move is to just slide a letter across the table and bounce. no goodbye cake, no fake hugs, no pretending we’ll keep in touch on linkedin. just done. but there’s this tiny part of me that wants him to feel it, you know? to see that someone who gave their all decided it wasn’t worth it because he refused to grow a pair. if you know a better way to quit when you’re fuming and disgusted and exhausted, let me know; otherwise, i’ll just do it the way they deserve: quick, cold, and with zero explanation. maybe just one line: “you knew. you did nothing. i’m gone.”