Family Drama Stories - page 8

I never thought I'd be someone who would complain about havin too much support from her parents. Honestly, most people would probably envy my situation, havin grandparents so involved and present. But lately, I swear it feels like they're takin over my house and my life. My husband and I just had our first baby—a beautiful little girl—and we thought havin my parents around would be the biggest blessing. But now, I find myself constantly frustrated, anxious, and overwhelmed. My parents have always been loving, but now they've turned into helicopter grandparents, hovering over every little thing we do. From how we hold our baby to the way we wash bottles, every single decision seems to need their approval. At first, I thought it was sweet, them wanting to help and be involved, but it quickly became clear that it's way too much. Like, seriously, do they really need to rearrange my kitchen cabinets because "it makes more sense" their way? Or constantly tell us we're dressing our daughter wrong, feeding her too often, or not enough? I mean, don't get me wrong—I appreciate that they're here for us, but it’s starting to feel like they're forgetting this is our child, our house, and our life.

The biggest issue, though, is that they're always popping over unannounced. I'll be sittin on the couch, exhausted after finally getting my baby down for a nap, and suddenly I hear the front door open and my parents stroll in like they own the place. No call, no text, nothing. They just assume that because we're family, boundaries don't exist. My husband tries to be patient, bless his heart, but I can see it wearing on him, too. The other day, they walked right into our bedroom to "check on the baby," completely ignoring that we were both still asleep. It was awkward, uncomfortable, and honestly disrespectful, even though I know they mean well. Every time I try to gently bring it up, my mom acts hurt, like I'm rejecting her help or saying she's a bad grandmother. My dad just gets defensive, claiming they're only trying to make things easier on us. But how can I tell them that they're actually making things so much harder? I don't wanna hurt their feelings—I love them dearly—but I'm an adult now, and I deserve to have my own space, my own rules, and my own way of doing things.

Setting boundaries with my parents feels harder than I ever imagined. I always pictured us being a big happy family, but this constant invasion of our privacy is straining everything. So how do you even start setting boundaries with parents who don't think they need them? I've realized it's gotta be about clear communication. I know it sounds obvious, but it's honestly terrifying to think of sitting them down and saying, "Look, we need some space." But I also know that if I don't speak up, it's never gonna get better. So, I'm planning to have an honest conversation soon—just me, my husband, and my parents. I need them to understand it's not about rejecting their love or pushing them away, it's about respecting the fact that we're our own little family unit now, with our own routines and preferences. I have to find a gentle way to say that while their intentions are great, their actions sometimes cross the line. Maybe I can suggest specific times they can come over, or ask them to call before they visit. Maybe setting certain tasks aside specifically for them, like babysitting once a week or family dinners every Sunday, will help them feel involved without overstepping. It's not gonna be easy, and I fully expect some hurt feelings and awkwardness at first. But setting boundaries isn't about hurting relationships—it's about protecting them. I believe my parents love us enough to eventually understand, even if it's painful at first. All I know is, if I don't start setting these boundaries now, I might end up resenting the people I love most—and that's something I refuse to let happen.

Growing up, I never really knew there was a name for what my parents were. I just knew that somethin was off. Other kids talked about their moms and dads like they were these safe places, comfort zones, u kno? Mine weren’t. My parents were more like actors on a stage, and I was the audience they needed applause from constantly. Everything revolved around them—their feelings, their needs, their dreams. If they had a bad day, it was my fault. If they fought, somehow that landed on me too. I learned early to keep quiet, to keep my own feelings hidden, cause whenever I tried to express them, I got shut down quick. It was always, “How could u say that after everything we’ve done for u?” Or my personal favorite, “You’re so selfish.” For a long time, I actually believed that. I thought that maybe I really was selfish for wanting my own feelings to matter. And it’s taken years, and a whole lotta therapy to finally realize that wanting to be heard doesn’t make me selfish—it makes me human.

It’s funny tho, lookin back, cause when I was little I just assumed every house was like mine. That every kid walked on eggshells tryin not to upset their parents. I thought every mom was dramatic and cried easily, making you feel guilty for even existin. I thought every dad was overly critical, pickin apart every mistake, remindin you constantly how lucky you were that he even bothered to feed and clothe you. It wasn’t till I started spendin more time at my friends’ houses that I realized something was seriously messed up at mine. Their parents listened to them. Like really listened. When my friends spoke, their parents didn’t just wait for their turn to talk—they actually heard them. And when they messed up, they got hugged, comforted, reassured. Not shamed or belittled. The more I saw that, the more confused and honestly jealous I became. I wondered what it felt like to grow up without fear, without that constant anxiety in your gut tellin u that ur feelings weren’t important, that ur only job was to make sure your parents were happy, even if it meant hiding who you really were.

As I got older, it didn’t get easier. In some ways it got harder. Teen years are supposed to be when you figure out who u are, but that was nearly impossible in a house ruled by narcissists. Any attempt at independence was treated like a personal betrayal. My mom would cry, sayin I didn’t love her anymore. My dad would get cold and distant, like I’d deeply offended him just by having an opinion of my own. I learned to live a double life—one version for home, the other for school and friends. But the exhaustion of it was brutal. I felt like an actor too, just like them, pretendin to be okay, pretendin everything was fine. Even when I left home and went to college, the damage was already done. I struggled to form healthy relationships. I kept waitin for friends or boyfriends to turn on me, to blame me for things, to tell me my feelings weren’t valid. And sometimes they did, cause I guess I subconsciously chose people who were familiar—people who acted like my parents. Breaking that cycle felt almost impossible. I kept wonderin if maybe my parents were right, maybe I really was just impossible to love or deeply flawed somehow.

But here’s the thing: eventually, I found people who showed me different. I found therapy. I found books and podcasts that made me realize I wasn’t alone, that being raised by narcissists wasn’t my fault, and most importantly, that it didn’t have to define me forever. Slowly, I started settin boundaries. Slowly, I learned to say no without feelin guilty. Slowly, I started believin that my feelings mattered just as much as anyone else’s. It's still hard sometimes. There’s still days when the old voices creep back in, tellin me I’m not good enough or that I’m selfish for thinkin of myself. But now I kno those voices are lies. Now I kno my worth isn’t defined by anyone else's approval, especially not theirs. I won’t pretend it’s been easy—cause it hasn’t. Healing from parents like mine is messy, complicated, and takes longer than anyone wants to admit. But it’s possible. It’s happening. And every day I feel a lil bit more free. I might’ve been raised by narcissists, but I don’t have to live the rest of my life under their shadow. I’m finally learnin to step into the light—my own light. And damn, it feels good.

basically my dad passed away almost two years ago (july 18) and the only time i have visited him was when we buried him.

he died of a heart attack cause he was drunk at the beach when it was hot. he had a drinking problem for as long as i can remember but it was particularly bad the year he passed.

i remember that back then i had just started high school. between all the shit he was pulling (i wont list them but it is pretty bad) and puberty i got very hateful and even got into drugs and hanging out with the wrong people. i really hated him back then, because i felt like he was all that was wrong with the family (very untrue).

now that ive matured and healed a little, i wanna visit him. all along, i never really hated him. i love him and i hope he knew that when he passed.

also im sober too, my drugs phase thankfully didnt last long

when he was sober, my dad was a chill guy. although i didnt get to see him sober a lot, it pissed me off how good his potential as a father was.

after a while, i grew to understand the dynamics of my family that led him down this path. he did bear a part of the blame, but ive come to understand that the alcohol was just his way of coping.

when drunk, my dad once said that when he dies, he hopes i will visit his grave because he wants to bear my 'beautiful voice'.

the reason why i have gone yet is because i didnt feel ready to fully accept the fact that hes really gone and isnt coming back. i have so many regrets that i cant even list them all

i really wanna go, but i dont know what i would say.

i love you dad, if you can see me. i miss you more than i thought was possible

[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

I feel like I never want to go back to my aunt’s place again. That woman doesn’t accept me for who I am. She tries to erase me—erase how I really am—just to protect her own image. She’s done it before, and now she’s doing it again. She’s still fighting that same battle, and I can’t take it anymore. I just want her out of my life. Honestly, I wish I’d never even met her.

If she thinks that helping us gives her the right to meddle in our lives, she’s completely mistaken. That’s how I feel—invaded. Ever since I stayed with her, I’ve felt strange, emotionally wounded, and completely unmotivated. I’ve been fighting to not let myself get dragged down by whatever it is she left in me—this form of disguised violence, pretending to be innocent. It seems like she enjoys it, and that terrifies me. I don’t think she even knows what she’s saying—she just acts without thinking. She believes a smile is enough to fix everything.

This woman scares me. I simply don’t want to see her again. Nor her friend. They’re strange people. They want to change everything about you and frame it like it’s “for your own good”—but it goes as far as emotional abuse. What kind of mentality is that? Why did I have to witness this? And why, of all families, did this one have to be mine? Why couldn’t I have ended up in a different one, for God’s sake?

Why, of all people, was she the one available to care for me after surgery? The moment I walked into her house, with my bags in hand, I felt like I was walking straight into hell. These people are experts at shutting you down when you try to speak about what’s hurting you. When I tried to explain this to my psychiatrist, I felt like she looked at me like I was crazy. Honestly, I’m afraid my aunt will try to set me up—make me explain what hurts me just to twist it around and blame it on my traumas or mental health, like I’m the problem.

I feel helpless dealing with the aftermath of these people. No one around me is supporting me. I feel absolutely awful.

My sister is 3 years younger than me, and she's basically getting everything she wants with basically no consequences. when I was younger than her age, I had to be self reliant because our parents were busy working as we had no home and had to stay in a relative's house- we all had to sleep in one room, and I didn't even have many personal belongings- I had to prioritise taking care of myself- ironing my uniform, making my own lunch and breakfast, straightening my own hair, and having to walk 40 minutes everyday to school when we no longer had a car- even when we did, I was often berated by my dad for being slow because I was late and he had to drop me off- but that was because I didn't have any food for school. This was when I was 12- I don't really think it's a big as it's important to be self reliant when you're older, but the thing is, my parent keep coddling my sister to the point where she doesn't want to do anything for herself for her own, honestly selfish, reasons. She doesn't do her own laundry, style her hair, make her own breakfast or lunch because she can't be bothered to- this was by her own admission. She's 15 turning 16. She also doesn't clean up after making a mess. She studies in the living room- which is fine, obviously- but this now means that the entire living room is a mess of papers- even when we clean up, we can't do anything about them because she'll literally get so angry and starts to get aggressive and messes up the room if she can't find anything - which is annoying since I'm the one who has to clean the living room. She can also be very judgemental and rude to me about my interests and has called me cringe if I'm interested in things she doesn't like. She just doesn't feel like a considerate person at all. Honestly, she's the main reason why I'm excited to move out for university because I feel like I'll be able to live my own life- like I won't have to sacrifice my self worth just for her. I'm also hoping that she'll learn to mature and calm down as sometimes her temperament scares our mum off too

[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

Friends, I feel deeply outraged at my community. How is it possible that the spirit of speaking out is not embraced? How can a society exist where wrongdoing is approved, accepted, and even—supposedly—tolerated? I am furious.

In my own home, speaking out was not allowed. Once, I reported my mother, and my father retaliated while my mother punished me. What kind of mother does that? She does bad things and then doesn’t want to be held accountable—instead, she conditions everything so she won't be called out? So that she’s protected and coddled? What kind of mother is that?

Tell me—what kind of mother encourages wrongdoing? When I saw that kind of behavior at home, it was the moment I realized things were very, very wrong. At first, I stayed quiet because I was confused about what “normal” parenting looked like. I thought violence, especially within the family, was somehow acceptable or even expected. But all I was doing was walking right into a dead-end that usually ended in a beating—just for reacting in ways they didn’t like.

Yes, maybe I responded harshly or impulsively as a kid—and I’m not trying to justify it—but today I understand those reactions were, in fact, justified. My parents were authoritarian. How the hell wasn’t I going to push back when I was trapped in their home during their toxic marriage? It made no sense to demand peace when their very demand was a gateway to more abuse. Their expectations were completely unfair. Completely.

When I finally realized all this, it hit me hard. For over 15 years, I carried the guilt of believing I had been the problem. But the truth is, I was just seeing myself through a lens of indifference—a reality where I wasn’t treated like a person, but like a toy they could manipulate however they wanted. I didn't even notice that I was being dehumanized. That’s why I developed such an emotionally distant way of being, isolating myself from others without understanding why.

In the end, that kind of upbringing—where reporting abuse was forbidden, and empathy was absent—destroyed my social life. People started drifting away from me, to the point where they’d only reach out when they really needed something. That was the only way anyone socialized with me, and I went along with it—just because I craved any interaction at all. I remember pointing this out to a friend once. I honestly feel like crying: an entire life thrown away because of those two core wounds.

I used to ask myself why everything at home was like that, and my parents would just tie me up in excuses, shaped by deeply broken identities. I’m scared to even express this—I’ve been censored before, especially for saying things like this on that other platform. But the truth is, what they called “help” turned into a sad form of isolation. And it makes me think of a doctor I once saw—her behavior seemed odd, almost abrupt in how she reacted. I get the feeling I might have unknowingly hurt her somehow... though maybe that’s just in my head. I don’t know where this conflicting emotion comes from.

All of this got reinforced by the biases I inherited from my family environment. I was completely lost back then—disconnected from reality, and I didn’t even realize it. How could this have happened to me? It tainted my elementary years, high school, and university, leaving me with almost no friends by the end of it all. That hurts. Because it wasn’t my fault—it was my parents’.

No wonder I’m so angry about what I said about my community.

[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

I feel so much anger. Am I really doomed to stay in the groups I’m in? I mean, if I end up in a group I’m already part of—say, a family group—am I condemned to be stuck with them forever? Is there really nothing I can do to break away? Do I just have to get used to it out of inertia? This worries me deeply.

I admit it’s hard for me to write because I come from a social network that censored truly beautiful texts I wrote to let off steam—something I found incredibly unfair. It made me feel completely lost when it comes to using that platform. My intention was to express myself and structure my thoughts—focusing on that structure—without really considering others’ views. The point wasn’t to stay trapped within those external conceptions, but to develop something from what I was expressing. I just wanted to say this in case anyone wanted to offer their perspective.

Anyway, ever since that experience on that social network, I’ve felt trapped. Venting is what helped me break away from my family, to carve out a safer space both within and outside that context. That’s why I say I express and transcend. Venting gives me a holistic view of things without having to exclude any terrain. But I realized something: I think I’m normalizing things about my family. I feel like I’m using my venting to smooth over rough patches caused by behaviors that made me angry. It’s like I’m helping to re-establish those relationships in a “normal” space—a space I try to maintain without digging too deep. I feel like that has consequences, but I don’t quite see what they are yet.

It’s hard to structure my ideas in this environment—it’s different from what I’m used to, just like that other platform was. The fear of censorship is still there. Those posts were removed for no reason, or at least I never got an explanation. I followed the same rules as other posts I saw there. I’m furious about it. In fact, it makes me feel like the outside world somehow wants to push me back into my family setting. And whether it’s about family or not, people always say you have to break away on your own terms, not because someone tells you to. Otherwise, it could turn into a tragedy—it’s such a heavy burden. There’s this girl—I'll admit—who told me she feels trapped in a group and doesn’t know how to get out. In her case, the group is actively trying to make her leave her family, creating a barrier due to past circumstances that now prevents her from reconnecting. That happened a long time ago, and I’ve kept it inside ever since. I just wanted to express it.

I don’t want to meddle in that girl’s life. I feel like I’ve already left my family space behind—I did so a long time ago. And my experience with her only helped confirm it, especially after going through some very intense interactions with my closest relatives. The closeness we had only pushed me to create more distance, and that made our superficial routines of togetherness even more unbearable. So when the time comes for me to leave, it won’t be entirely bitter—there will be something sweet in it too. This is especially relevant if I ever get sick and we have to interact again. I know that kind of interaction will be unpleasant for me, because it creates tension and unwanted closeness with my relatives—those who used to take care of me. So in a way, if I do fall ill, it would trigger a change in their routine. And I think they would, maybe subconsciously, begin to appreciate the idea of me moving on to a place where they can’t or don’t have to interfere. That would open the door to my independence at last.

I feel sorry for this girl. Still, I think I’m ready to defend the principles of helping her—offering her a fishing rod rather than a fish, so she can catch her own. At the time I met her, I think she was open to it because her need was great, though I believe that need was buried deep due to how embedded she was in her group. I had stopped reacting impulsively and disrespectfully, breaking her routines without warning—these were the patterns she used to destabilize people, myself included. Her group absorbed her completely, and she shaped her environment around that. In short, maybe I can support her.

I just needed to say all of this. I don’t feel particularly skilled at writing. I posted eight times. Maybe the way I wrote had something to do with it—perhaps I wasn’t careful enough in how I structured things. But I can’t focus on that right now. I need to express myself freely if I want to sort out my thoughts. I need to release all this mental weight and reshape it through structured writing, so I can, as I said, transcend it—and that helps me find order in my mind. What hurts is that this was already my second attempt to engage with that platform. And once again, it highlighted how hard it is to express oneself freely—which, ironically, reminds me of how much I need to express myself freely. Otherwise, I’m just crawling through a dark tunnel, getting buried alive or hitting a wall I can’t break through.

I also like when a space doesn’t allow too much outside interference—it helps me feel like there are steady receivers out there, even if the way I express myself is different. I know that’s not realistic in the real world, where we talk face-to-face, not through digital platforms. But this goes back to what I said earlier—it’s so hard to break away from the past. If something from the outside knocks me down, I risk being dragged back into my family’s orbit. And I don’t want that. I have to be very careful about where and how I express myself—so I can see where the boundaries are and navigate through whatever life throws at me.

Apologies if this came out a bit disorganized. After all, this is a vent—a need to breathe, to unload what’s suffocating me and leave it somewhere, so I can move on to other thoughts. That’s how forgetting works, as good ol’ Freud would say.

a poem a wrote to my stepmum who abused me

Dear abuser,

How are you able to sleep at night?

After what you've done

All the anger and pain you've caused

The things you put me through

Dear abuser,

Are you happy now?

Breaking and bending teenagers spirt

Leaving wounds deeper than skin

Dear abuser,

How can you live with yourself?

Forcing teenagers to run away as their only other choice was death

Mentally and physically injuring them in the process

Dear abuser,

Does it feel good to get your way?

Is it everything you wanted?

Was it worth all the pain and suffering you caused?

Dear abuser,

I hope your happy now

I hope it was all worth it

The pain you put me through hasn't broken me

Dear abuser,

I know you will never get what you deserve

But this is my way of getting justice

I hope you read this one day

And realise its about you

Dear abuser,

I hate you.

Yours truly,

A survivor

Have y’all heard of enoclophobia? A phobia of crowds, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for me it’s overwhelming

Basically my family owns a small business company, and they’re been forcing me to do presentations on the lastest products since I was young. And since there are lots of people in the auditorium, I panic, but I shouldn’t make humiliation of myself in this big event, so I just manage. By the end of the presentation, but face is blue;;

I’ve been telling my parents for years that I don’t want to be the heir of this company, and I don’t want to do these presentations, but I’m forced to, even my long term crush is going through the same situation, she doesn’t have any phobias tho… she doesn’t like me back bc of how stupid I act while on stage, buts it’s a natural born phobia, I wish I could get rid of it but how?

Some mornings I just sit at the edge of the bed and stare at the wall, not even sure why I’m getting up again. I’m 32 years old, got 3 kids who depend on me, a husband who doesn’t see me anymore, and a life that feels like it’s already over even though I’m still breathing. Everything feels like a loop—make breakfast, clean up, laundry, grocery shopping, break up the kids’ fights, smile when I don’t mean it, pretend like I care when inside I’m screaming. I used to have dreams, I used to want more. I can’t even remember what those dreams were anymore. Somewhere between baby bottles and birthday parties, I lost me. My husband comes home, says "how was your day" with no real interest, stares at his phone, and falls asleep before I even finish my sentence. We don’t fight. We don’t talk either. It’s like we’re roommates that share responsibilities but not hearts. I don’t love him. I don’t even like him half the time. But I stay. For the kids, for the house, for the fear of what happens if I leave and fail. But deep down, I don’t even know what success would look like anymore. It’s like I’m living a life someone else chose for me, and I got stuck in it like mud.

I see people my age on social media living lives that look full. Traveling, working jobs they care about, falling in love, starting fresh. And I’m just here, stuck in a cycle that’s got no meaning left. I feel guilty even saying it out loud—because I have things. A house, healthy kids, food on the table. But I don’t have joy. I don’t have connection. I don’t have me. And that emptiness… it’s suffocating. I feel like I’m running on fumes, always pretending everything’s fine when nothing is. Sometimes I wonder, if I vanished, would anything change? Would they miss me or just miss the things I do? I don’t cry anymore, even when I want to. I just go numb. Day after day after day. I’ve tried to talk to people about it, but they always say, “You just need a break” or “It’s just a phase.” But what if it’s not a phase? What if this is it? What if life is just this endless line of chores and fake smiles and empty kisses from someone who doesn’t know the woman next to him is dying inside? I’m so tired. I’m tired of carrying it all. And worst of all, I’m tired of hoping something will change. Because it never does.

I know that there are people suffering more out there, I’m a great listener! But sometimes I need someone to listen to me as well.

I hope I’m just going through a teenage nightmare

I think my parents hate me, especially my mom. She just slammed the door at me

I mean I do love my parents, but why do they dislike me? Well here is the answer: My dad is living in Korea, and my mom is in Hong Kong with me. She wants to go back to Korea but she’s afraid that I’ll be too dumb to catch up on Korea’s harsh teaching environment. I think she wants me dead, I’m just being emotional am I? Well I hope I am, my parents wanted me, that’s why they got me, but now that they have me, I’m starting to feel like I’m ruining things. I wanted to make things easier and better for everyone, why how come things turn out like this? I made it worse for others, and twice as tragic for myself, sometimes I care about others a bit too much. My friends at school uses me, my teachers hate me for being too smart, or sometimes asking questions without evidence when other kids litterally threw a bottle across the classroom which could have hit someone hard. My parents hates me, my teachers hates me, why classmates are fake friends, who do I rely on now? The internet is my only hope I suppose

So apparently I don’t really care if this site it safe or not, I listen to way too many people vent in real life, and I couldn’t get a person to rely on myself, and it’s eating me inside. Whenever I feel stressed, I solve math problems, it increases the level of stress but at least it’s all covered up. It makes me forget about my past mistakes

And now here I am, venting here instead because I tried venting to people in my family but ended up in a disaster. My mom always mention that I’m the problem from letting her into peace, if I wasn’t born then she would have flown to Korea. I mean it’s true, it is. I’m blocking her. I just feel bad for others, and I don’t have time to think about myself, but when I mention this problem to others, why do they all just say that I’m too selfish when I’m too selfless? People at school uses me. For money, for food, or because they don’t have friends to sit with on the school bus. I do have a lot of friends, thanks to my personality, but when will be the day that I stop venting online and vent on my classmates on auto pilot mode? I bet they’ll all leave me.

The house me and my mom live in with my grandparents is the most miserable place. It hurts me and my mom but she makes it hurt me, she's one of the reasons I have depression and suicidal thoughts and had attempted many times before and done S/H. In this house I feel like I can't be myself, I don't want to be myself because it just makes me feel dull and miserable. Crying in my room alone with no irl friends at all, not ones that talk to me and don't have motivation to keep up with hygiene or schoolwork. Crying about how everyone around me has a dad ans father figure while I have none to call my own

Hi, I'm A. I'm a pretty good student. I live in a small town. The story I'm about to tell you happened today, a few hours ago.

I'll start with the fact, today my brother is hosting a birthday party for his friends. I was supposed to help with the preparations and stay to help him serve the people. I had a movie planned with my friend, and I helped before it. But I didn't tell my parents about the fact that we would be going to McDonald's afterwards. My friend and I were obviously very happy when we went to the cinema to see it. It was fine. Now, it was time for McDonald's: unfortunately, it was far from our town, so it was kind of a bummer cause we had to go by bike. I had notifications turned off. Once we arrrived, the queue was so long we waited like 10 minutes. The entire time I was watching the time and getting a little nervous. It was 16:40 once we got our food, I had to be in my house at 16:30... But it was too late to turn back now. Honestly, I wish I told her I have to go back home, but now it's too late. Once I finished eating, I went to the bathroom at 17:17 where upon I saw 3 missed calls from my mother, so I messaged her 'I just finished my movie'. Then we rode back to our house, laughing. I came home. My father was waiting by the door, saying my mother went to their friends to wash (the water isn't fine at the moment). He said she was waiting since 16:00. Panic kicks in. He asks me if I wanna go to her. I don't answer but grab a towel and some shampoo and he drives me there. My mother is by the fence because apparently their water's turned off. My mother yelled at me, saying she waited for two hours (it was 17:40) to go with me to their friends. Then we drove back home. The party was gonna start at 18:00. She asked me why didn't I tell them. I said 'I don't know" and she continued. She ahd every right to be mad at me, so I kept being mute. My stupidity went through the roof and I knew it. I blocked my friend because she said she was gonna beat me to death once I was back in school. I hate me. Now I have to help him. I just wanna cry my face off. I was also supposed to go to a sleepover at her house... Now I can't because it's my fault.

I hate it. I just want to kms. But I feel like that's a waste, and that's my second time where I lied and didn't get away with it.

sometimes it really feels like no one even sees me, like i’m just some background noise in my own house. my parents are always busy yellin at each other or complainin about bills or stressin over stuff that i guess matters to them but like, never once do they ask how i’m doin. not even a simple “you okay?” or “how was your day?” it’s like they don’t even remember i exist unless it’s to tell me to do chores or turn the music down. i come home from school, go straight to my room, and that’s it. dinner is usually silent, if we even eat together at all. nd if i say something, they either ignore me or act like i’m bein dramatic. like bro, sorry i have feelings?? and my little sister gets all the attention too, like if she even sneezes mom rushes over like it’s the end of the world, but if i say i’m tired or sad, i just get told to stop being lazy. like wow thanks, that really helps.

at school it ain’t much better either. i got a few people i talk to but it’s not like real friends. more like people i sit near in class and joke with sometimes, but no one who really knows me. i don’t got that one friend who texts first or checks in or invites me to stuff. most weekends i just sit in my room scrollin on my phone while watchin the same shows over and over. nd sometimes i post stuff online hopin someone will comment or like it just so i feel like i’m not totally invisible. but most the time it’s just silence. everyone says “reach out” if you’re strugglin, but like… reach out to who?? the people who already don’t notice me? my parents who only care when i mess up? sometimes i just wanna scream like HELLO I’M HERE, but i already know it wouldn’t matter.

i try to act normal at school, smile and joke around so no one thinks anything’s wrong. but inside i’m just tired. tired of feeling like i don’t matter. tired of pretendin like it’s all fine. nd i kno people got it worse, i do, but that doesn’t make my feelings fake. i just want someone to care. like really care. not just when it’s convenient or when they want somethin from me. i don’t need big speeches or anything, just someone to say “i see you.” someone to sit with me even if we don’t talk. cuz right now it just feels like i’m floatin through life, watchin everyone else live while i’m stuck in this loop where nothin changes. maybe one day it’ll get better, maybe i’ll get outta this place, find people who make me feel like i matter. but right now? it feels like no one cares about me. and honestly… maybe they never did.