Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 13

It was a sunny day when I first found myself under the water, feeling the panic rise in my chest like a tidal wave. Just a regular swim day, you know? But then I slipped. The water enveloped me, and for a brief moment, everything turned dark. I thought I was going to die, honestly! My thoughts just raced—what does it feel like to drown? Is it like suffocating? Or is it calm, like falling asleep? I could feel my lungs screaming for air, yet all I could do was flail and hope for someone to pull me up. Every desperate grasp for air felt hopeless, and I realized in that instant how fragile life truly is. You never think it'll happen to you until it does... right? 😨

But wait! Not all was lost, as if by some miracle, I felt a strong arm wrap around me and pulled me to the surface. It was the most incredible feeling, breaking through the surface and gasping for air! The pure relief was overwhelming. I choked, sputtered, and took in the bright sunshine that I had been missing. Suddenly, every struggle I faced under the surface felt worth it, somehow. It’s like I got a second chance, you know?! I learned to appreciate each breath as if it were my last! The water that had once terrified me now felt like a strange friend that taught me a lesson about resilience. Isn’t it funny how life throws stuff at you that you never expect? 🌊

Looking back, drowning wasn't just about feeling fragile; it was also about emerging stronger. I mean, now I look at water differently. I respect it, yes, but I also embrace it. I’ve taken swimming lessons since then, and I’m no longer afraid. Instead of seeing it as a threat, I’ve learned how to navigate through the waves! Each splash reminds me of my near-drowning experience, but it also fuels my desire to conquer my fears. So, isn’t it something? To feel new life after a near-death experience? 🌈 Do you think we can emerge stronger after facing our fears, or does it leave us more cautious? I hope everyone out there can find their path to recovery like I did! Keep swimming, because life’s currents may be rough, but we are stronger than we think!!! 💪

my best friend Katy (not real name) is a bit su1c1d4l and she's not at school today

it seems that every time I search for help with my marriage, I’m bombarded with ads from love coaches promising to save my relationship for a mere small fortune, and honestly, it’s starting to drive me crazy. I mean, why does every piece of advice about marriage and relationships have to come with a price tag? I’m a 41-year-old guy who’s been married for over fifteen years, and things have not been easy lately. I thought turning to the internet would give me some insights from people who have been there, done that, you know? But every click leads me down a rabbit hole of expensive eBooks, online courses, and consultations that seem more about lining someone's pockets than actually providing real help. Is it just me, or do other people feel that the romantic advice industry is a total scam? I started searching for free resources—blogs, forums, whatever I could find—hoping to stumble across someone who genuinely wants to share their experiences instead of trying to market something. Now, don’t get me wrong, I get that everyone has to make a living, but sometimes it feels like the pursuit of love has turned into a business opportunity for a lot of folks out there. Honestly, I find it disheartening and slightly disingenuous. A lot of the free advice I managed to find was stuff like: "just communicate better" or "try to understand your partner's love language." Really? That’s it? It's like tossing around generic platitudes without any real substance behind them. Don't we deserve more than that when we're trying to navigate the complex waters of a long-term relationship? One of the biggest issues in my marriage right now is that my wife feels neglected, and I completely understand why, but expressing that to her is so much harder than it seems. It feels like there’s this invisible distance growing, and no matter how many times I read “quality time is key,” it doesn’t change the fact that there are genuine hurdles in connecting with her amid life’s overwhelming chaos. Do any of you know what it’s like to feel like you're tiptoeing on eggshells in your own home, afraid that saying the wrong thing could cause another argument? It’s exhausting. So, I started thinking, wouldn’t it be helpful if people shared real stories of overcoming relational pitfalls instead of charging for ‘insider secrets’? I mean, we all deal with different struggles—financial stress, work-life balance, parenting pressures—but where’s the collection of lived experiences that could actually provide comfort or insight? (Also, I wonder about the role of vulnerability in these discussions.) Maybe I’m idealistic, but genuine human connection shouldn’t have a price tag, right? And isn’t it odd how some people claim they can fix your relationship without even knowing you or your partner? What gives them that right? Aren’t relationships as unique as the people in them? While I was trying to find answers, I began jotting down my thoughts and the problems I face, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s value in that for others too. Is there something cathartic in sharing our struggles, in being real about our shortcomings without a sales pitch? I think there is. So, dear reader, have you ever found yourself in a similar spot? Perhaps you’ve tried seeking advice only to find it buried under a mountain of advertisements? In a way, I’m feelin’ like my own therapist here, as I write this down. The other day, I stumbled upon a forum where people shared their relationship stories for free, and it felt so refreshing. Some were heartbreaking, some were filled with laughter, and some provided actionable steps that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. It was like a breath of fresh air, and I left feeling encouraged rather than frustrated. Yet, it's a shame that these platforms are not mainstream. Why is it so hard to find genuine support without a catch? Is it possible that people are really more concerned about money than about truly helping others? Maybe I should just put my experiences out there and see if they resonate with anyone, no strings attached. If anyone feels like sharing their experiences, it could be therapeutic, right? Aren’t we all looking for that sense of community and support during our tough times? Just asking these questions makes me believe that we can find common ground in our struggles, whether it’s overcoming miscommunication or learning how to prioritize each other amid the stressors of daily life. So, what do you think? Can we create a space where we uplift each other without diving into that money pit of love coaching?

So I'm at school right now and this week is my last full week of not only 8th grade or middle school but also my last full week at the school I've been at my whole life (past information: I moved to my state I'm in when I was 6 and been here more than most my life) Note: My school is Elementary and middle school (kindergarten-4th, 5th-8th) It's weird that I'm about to be at the end of a chapter in my life. am I even ready for this? I'm also scared to go into high-school cuz I'm worried I have to start fresh and make new friends which I struggled with when I first moved here. I don't want to lose the friends I've gained. but I'm excited because the people in the area are really nice and I love the high school. its like..I'm finally starting my life. for real this time......win or lose.

growing up, I always had this invisible wall between me and my mother. it felt like we were living in parallel universes, occasionally crossing paths but never truly connecting. whenever she tried to engage in conversations, I'd nod politely, but inside, I was rolling my eyes. like, can we skip the small talk? all that lecturing about grades, friends, and future plans just seemed so repetitive and unnecessary. I honestly don’t get where she’s coming from. it’s like she has this idea of who I should be, and I’m just not that guy. making stupid comments about my interests, questioning my music choices, or telling me what I should wear feels like she’s trying to control a life that’s not hers to dictate. sometimes, I wonder if she realizes how much her opinions push me away. does she think I’ll suddenly become the person she envisions if she keeps nagging? honestly, I think it just makes me resent her more. 😒

I know being a parent is tough, and she has her struggles, but does that mean I have to put up with her constant nagging? sometimes I just want to scream, "I don't like you!" I don’t mean that in a harsh way, just in a way that describes how utterly frustrated I am. it feels like she judges everything I do, which honestly makes me feel trapped in a box I never asked to be in. when I try to express my thoughts, she brushes them off as teenage nonsense, which drives me up the wall. I mean, can’t we have a real discussion without her immediately shooting down my feelings? I’m just trying to figure things out, but it feels like she can’t see that. does she even realize how alienating her comments are? it’s exhausting. 😩 so, is it too much to ask for a little understanding and respect in our relationship?

I’ve been a part of my local football club for years now, and it’s all just falling apart. I mean, can you believe it? What happened to the brotherhood, the camaraderie? Last weekend we played our biggest rival, and I was hyped, like super hyped, to give it my all on the pitch. You know that electric feeling when you’re getting ready to face your enemy? But when we got to the field, I just felt... invisible. It was like everyone else already had their little cliques. They were all high-fiving and laughing, and there I was, standing in the back, waiting for my moment to shine but instead looking like a fool. Especially when I tripped over the ball during practice and everyone's laughs echoed in my ears. Like, seriously, how do you mess that up? Why can’t I just be normal?

Then comes the game, and I’m praying for even a little recognition. As the clock ticked down, I finally got a chance to sub in. But instead of feeling pumped, my heart sank when I noticed a few teammates rolling their eyes as I jogged onto the field. It was hard to ignore the whispers. “Oh great, here comes the loser,” I imagined them thinking. Do you ever just feel like everyone’s against you, even though you’re all on the same team? I tried to shake it off and just hustle, but I could see the frustration on our captain’s face as I missed a wide-open pass. After the game, I didn’t even get a pat on the back – more like a few grumbles. I know I’m not the best player, but come on, who likes being a punching bag for everyone’s bad day? I can’t help but wonder, is the problem me? Do I just not fit in? I’m really starting to think no one likes me. Am I just overthinking, or do you guys feel this too sometimes?

i know its dumb, because if he really loved me he wouldnt of hurt me so bad in the first place. but he would read me to sleep every night, comfort me after all the pain, accepted my identity and everything i did and loved me for me. he never used me, hes the closest to love ive ever felt and i dont understand why i feel like no one can give me that treatmeng without hurting me you know? it just makes me so fucking sad. 5 months into no contact after severe co dependency for 2 years and its just so fucking difficult. i feel horrible for mourning the "love" and i feel like no one understands that no, i dont miss him. i miss his love

I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know why I’m like this. I just got out of another conversation with my parents and the moment they said “you go to church and you lie” I just got emotional and ran away. And marched into my room screaming. Unfortunately I have a problem with telling people the truth to my parents but I don’t do it out malicious I don’t because I’m scared.

I’m scared of being an adult

I’m scared of getting a license

And I’m scared of living alone

But why

Why can’t anyone understand me?

I feel like a monster because that’s all I am

A big giant no driving lying monster.

Sometimes I wonder what happened if I just never existed. Would Everything be different would everyone be happy.

Because I’m the problem cans I can’t even fucking save myself.

My boyfriend’s severely suicidal. He’s on the spectrum and so am I and idek it’s scaring me so bad. It’s gotten to a point where I genuinely don’t even know if he’s here anymore. He lives right down the street for me, he sits next to me on the school bus (both juniors) and is practically over every day. Genuinely around me at every point of time ever in my life. And I love it I really do. He’s so amazing when he’s not down. Except, now he’s down every day. We started dating almost a year ago and it started out great with the occasional off week or down moment with him. He’s been getting more and more and more depressed as the days go on. He’s the most perfect person I’ve ever seen and I don’t understand how he could possibly not see that. He’s had multiple attempts in the last few weeks along with going on 20 mg of lexipro and in an extensive treatment program 4/5 days out of the school week with constant monitoring. Nothings working and it’s only making him worse. He’s violent and he’s punching things and not eating and he’s barely alive I do not know what to do. I am constantly here for him and it’s not enough I suppose I will do anything pleaeebpleasepleaspelwlapdlwlase I want him to live but I don’t think he’ll make it alive to graduate, I don’t even know if he’ll make it past the summer. When I tell you he maybe the love of my life I truly mean it. It’s not a burden even if it’s killing me badly I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care he’s beautiful and I wouldn’t want it anyway else I just want him. I want him to be ok I want him to let me love him. He’s so amazing and perfect I really do not understand what I can do to save him. I’ve done everything. I’ve talked to guidnece counslers, both his and mine, I’ve talked to his mom, my mom, his friends, my friends, doctors teachers therapists about it and nothings working. What can I do? What ccan I do to save him from death??? What am I doing wrong????????

It's currently 4.30 am. And i can't sleep because of guilt. Because i haven't done any of the things I was supposed to and i feel like i dissapointed myself and i'm afraid i'm dissapointing others too. I wanted this year to be different, to not get myself in the same mess, but i made and even worse mess in the end. I've been feeling so tired and burnt out for almost two years now and i've trying to get out of It since, i've tried routines, habits, apps, everything to be more productive and actually get back on track but It Just keeps failing. I feel tired, and end up procrastinating and then i get anxious, start pacing around or scrolling and hiding in bed, and then i can't sleep at night knowing i'm ruining everything. My grades are only getting worse and i feel like i'm failing. And i feel so stupid. Because It should be easy. It was easy before. But then i messed everything up. And now i can't fix. Now more and more things are coming up. People expect things from me, and i don't even know where to start. My Mom expects me to at least be decent in school but i can't even do that. There are lot of tests right now and their all going worse than the other. I was forced to make the PowerPoints in out study group even though i said no. Multiple times. And i got set up to do even heavier lifting in the journaling club of school, and now i'm supposed to set up whole thing. When my 'mentor', the one who's supposed to teach me, ghosted me and hasn't done anything to start or help at all. I know It's my fault but i Just feel so tired. It's all too much and i'm too stupid to handle It. I can't do this. I Just want to hide.

I feel like I don't like this new family I have. The term "family" and not being a family but rather a group of strangers, disconnected, are the same thing. It can't be that the term "family" meant the union of individuals where each one is in their own world and barely concerned about the other. It can't be that that was family for me. It can't be.

I came to consider family a group of individuals who had a vaguely close connection with me and with each other, practically only organizationally and moderately. I feel like I called them family, and I find it shameful. If I had told them we were family, they would surely have called me insane or something like that or demanded that I report this to a psychiatrist in some way. It can't be.

What I considered "family" was the height of remoteness from what we could consider a union of loved ones. In what was my biological family, we established our family through violence; that was the denial of our distance. We were all complete strangers to each other. What the hell were we doing living among strangers? No wonder we knew how to navigate the streets so easily, because after all, we didn't differentiate between the street and our homes. The streets seemed simpler, and that's why we were somewhat more adept at socializing there. However, there was always a strange quality about us.

It can't be that my family was a gathering of complete strangers where there was no love, sex only served to speed things up. I mean, what kind of family do I come from, for God's sake? Anyone who knows me with this story runs away because of the consequences it might have on me—something that apparently surprises one of the doctors who examined me because I didn't react the same way. I feel like it can't be that I came from an environment where there was no affection, no evidence of organization, but quite the opposite, and that everything that contradicted us as a family was precisely what we considered family. But what kind of world did we live in, for God's sake?

Did no one notice the friction we had with everyone else? Why were we always ostracized? Did no one question why people treated us the way they did? What kind of world did we live in? We were completely isolated from others, at the mercy of our prejudices, with no one daring to go beyond them, except me. In fact, my psychotherapist saw me as the only opportunity to break out. No one questioned why people acted the way they did toward us, what it was about us that made that happen, why we treated other people the way we did, if it even existed. The theory that we had come to Earth to suffer seemed ridiculous to me and was implicit in the family narrative.

I insist: What kind of thing did we have at home, for God's sake? We had nothing healthy. We couldn't go outside. Prejudices blinded us at all costs. We lived to survive in society at the expense of irrational fears. Our anxieties isolated us, and we believed them to be true. In fact, no one noticed that even among ourselves, we acted out exaggerated dramas. It can't be that we can only be among ourselves and that the people who touch us are violent, humiliating people—in other words, family members of the same ilk as us, where emotion blinds, and there's no balance at all with reason.

How hard was it for me to see this reality? I realized this was happening five years ago, and precisely because I saw a pattern among the girls I was looking for that was repeated, and people said it was a matter of letting it go. Everyone told me I was exaggerating; however, I had managed to be precise; I had found the point that would help me escape such situations. How many of my family members are still trapped in a strange, out-of-this-world world? For God's sake, I prefer to be with lucid people, given that these blind, blind people purposefully run over others. I was simply overrun with them. And the worst part is that this gang of beings lived off wanting me to be like them at all costs. That was their philosophy, because that way I would be safe, better, under their support, as if they were the perpetual caretakers. These beings are very adept at taking advantage of others' prejudices and social profiles. However, I always knew there was a way to bring them down, as I did.

How far would I go with these beings, for God's sake, if I didn't realize things? What kind of partner would I get to put a stop to this? What escalations of violence would I go to? And my parents despised psychoanalysis, psychology, and all that. It's something that fills me, it angers me, because they wanted to serve as an obstacle to me going out into the world and seeing them from there. Even my mother, quite bluntly, expressed this to me. They tried to hide this truth from me for their own innocence Conscience, and that's something that bothers me a lot.

How much did I suffer being part of this? When did I suffer living within this family's standards? It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. Furthermore, outsiders took advantage of the weakness they had implicated me in thanks to my rebelliousness as a child, which always persisted given that it made my father realize several things, made me have values, a series of things that he later betrayed. But thanks to him betraying his spirit under the influence of my mother, I didn't want to end up like him. That's why I am where I am today; something I know thanks to this writing.

How many times did they not want to stop me from writing? Stop me from researching? Even my psychologist served as an obstacle. Why did my own psychologist serve as an obstacle? The same people, my friends, everyone. I discovered that they were all made up of dysfunctional families, and no one had even realized this. I was alone in such a situation. In such an endeavor. Who supported me? Not even the girl I identified with at the time wanted to support me. It was all about staying with the family when I was going in the opposite direction. It was pesos, after pesos, after pesos. Even at my workplace, they tried to exploit that story, even at a university, but frankly, I made them pay by making them see the reflection of their actions before the law, which was quick to issue its immediate protection. I don't understand how there can be people who believe I'm going to treat them as family or something like that, something I didn't do internally, with my real family members, when I'm not going to do it. In fact, given the simple fact of abusing it, it already implies acting with restraint but without harming, given that it would be an extra effort that will be costly for my family member.

This society almost buried me with my family! Almost! And my family and my surroundings support me! But I didn't allow it. For some time now, I've been looking for tools to support myself by any means necessary. I wasn't going to allow myself to go under the sad fate that awaited me, where I even saw my own death. I deserved to live, I deserved to live what I loved, not at the expense of weight, of a darkness imposed on me by my family, under a clear deception that was the murderer in my life. I deserved a better life. That's why I fought so hard.

For God's sake, how much abuse did I endure because of my family's imposed interests? How much rudeness? How much mistreatment for not being well-educated, and which people responded with simply hidden and undisputed retaliation? How many moments of horrific loneliness? How many times did I need someone to be with me? How many games did my mind not play to survive? How many mechanisms did my psyche not use to move forward? How much writing? How much speaking into a microphone? How many walks? How many strange exercises? How many eccentric creative endeavors? How many betrayals? How many disappointments? I just wanted to stop once and for all. I wanted this journey to finally end. Besides, nothing's worse than getting used to being with your family and then being without them and still having all that weight on your shoulders.

so , yesterday was my so called best friends birthday , and i said hapy birthday and left them to enjoy there birthday , then i saw at 9pm at night them putting not just 1 status but 1 status and about on whatsapp saying i am done with fake people . On seeing this i messaged this person seeing if they where ok and what had gone on and the reply was i am off to bed , night . This seeming bit rude i left them to it and messaged them today again asking what had gone on , the question then still been ignored . so i was like i am trying to care but there not aloowing me too . Then got a 13 min voice note , telling me i have no respect for my self apparently that i wasnt communicating and that i seemed like a lowsy best friend .

Me being like the hell because this person allways thinks about geting her self invovled in my relationship stuff , she doesnt support what i do she doesnt like that i do what i wanna do and no one can change my mind . but if she wants help in her relationship i dont say basically dump him that she had no respect for her self ect. So i told them how i felt and said i wanted space as how upset this person made me feel but also how angry i was and tired of being made out to be the bad guy . its not the first time its happened either . its getting beyond a joke that is how they are being so yeah . i must be someone who has no respect for my self and all that . also while this person saying i am horrible i am on 3 days of migraines do they ask if i am ok nope they say i dont try hard enough

I feel like I have nothing to do with these new people who come into my life. I don't feel like I have anything to do; to me, they're complete strangers, people who disrupt my routine, and therefore, I don't want them around. It bothers me that they've shown up with their friendship, but at the same time, I'm grateful for it. I feel like I'd like to be with them, but I can't bring myself to leave my routine under any circumstances. I admit it, I'm terribly afraid of messing up their lives, of changing them, of making them feel bad.

I don't feel like it's right to just enter someone else's life. I can't. I feel like I'll make a mess of things. The same thing happened with my parents; I came into their lives and made a mess of them. Of course, they called me and were feeling unwell, and that's the paradox, because they could have made a mechanical return to me, giving me up for adoption or something like that. I feel that, in and of itself, that said, I'm not at all responsible for my parents' inability to respond to my needs from their routine. Initially, I wasn't suited to it, and upbringing is never temporary.

The relationship with my parents did end in disaster, of course. It went from a small issue to a bigger one, and indeed, between parents and children, the question of waiting until they were little would indeed be a person out of touch with the development of humanity. I feel, I confess, that I'm ready to enter another person's life, for them to enter it. That is, I feel capable of achieving a perfect, at least approximate, contribution to my routine and theirs. I can't say I won't disappoint them, however, what I will say is that I will choose not to make that my relationship the way it was for my parents.

I confess, if I say it, I'd like to have a boyfriend. Why not say it? With one of the doctors who treated me, being friends with another of them, and being a friend to others. Why deny it? That's what I feel. I know the harsh reality is that it's impossible, that such feelings will only lead to disappointment. However, I feel that this time it is possible, despite my over-excited and uncontrollable actions, undoubtedly the product of my feelings for them. However, it's so good because I'm gradually seeking that support, and it's something, without fear of misunderstanding, that they have witnessed.

I'm frank; I haven't lied to them about not being able to control myself. It's true, for the love of God. I feel I couldn't do it, I couldn't under any circumstances, and I've experienced various feelings with them. I feel very sorry for the doctors for having upset them, for having made them see strange things that a psychiatrist could see, but let's be clear: These doctors, who are dentists, are not trained in this field. It's surprising that I behaved heroically in this regard because, let's be clear, they were absolutely free to respond with some kind of retaliation, since something beyond what was being asked of them was asking. It was beautiful that all of them, in the end, were with me, didn't abandon me. I can't help, and I say this from the heart, not considering them my friends, people who love me, people who go beyond what is professional, and I suppose it's because the case required it, which speaks, without fear of being wrong, to the fact that their profession is about them and not about fulfilling their job. It must be said, I feel loved, cherished, and, despite my behavior, where I showed rebellion toward my family, they still remained there. I can't say anything other than that I feel I'm serving them, whatever it may be, without even needing to set limits, because I'm in the presence of good people.

I have to say, these doctors deserve everything, and despite that, they don't want gifts, which even surprises me. It's obvious they don't seek rewards for their work, but I believe it's the right thing to do. How can someone have the heart to love me after I'd been rebellious toward my parents? Why didn't they want to go further? Why did they remain impartial? What a beautiful heart is that? I highly doubt a university would teach that, ever. The answer is that I did have a splendid team. I criticized them a lot because, in fact, the field of mental health wasn't approached with precision, as I think it should have been. However, I feel that this makes their efforts completely welcome to me. They excelled in something that not many people can. In fact, they fought for my health, for me to be well, and that's great.

Why did I have to have such good people in my life? Honestly, I don't think I deserve them, but that's how it was. I feel like I love them, from the bottom of my heart. I love them, I love them, and I feel like they never acted against me In fact, they resisted their own feelings, causing them to go elsewhere. I love them, I can't say otherwise. I wish my parents could have made this effort, I wish my family had been able to do it before, I wish my friends had done what these people did. I insist, these doctors touched my heart; they were more humane than I thought, and because of methodology, I dared to call them inhuman, but I confess I never saw what they did, which is what counts in the long run. Freud said that a few kind words are no medicine, and this has been my thing.

I don't know how to express my joy. It's immense. I never thought this was inside me. I knew I had to dig and dig and dig through my feelings, and I never thought I'd find such a beautiful feeling. In fact, one of them wrote me that they wished me well, another welcomed me with open arms, and the other still recommended appropriate medical procedures. In other words, even though I behaved harshly during treatment, they were still there, they're still there. I feel like I wasn't just another patient, a consumer product, and that's it, but that there was something more. Something very deep that came from within. How can I stop remembering such affection? And my family wanted me to forget it, absolutely not. They, less than anyone, deserve to be forgotten, under any circumstances, but to be remembered with great affection. In fact, I felt like there was a family with me, a family that cared for me and is still there. I love this family, even though they don't see it that way.

I can't believe it. I feel like I've had the opportunity of a lifetime: to have a family, and I may be the only member of my biological family who has had this opportunity. Of course! I'm not going to waste it!

I'm struggling through a break up. It was a three year a relationship with someone I thought I was going to marry and have a future with. We decided to remain friends because we still love and want each other in our lives, even if it means transitioning into a friendship. We are currently going through a period of no-contact to give ourselves a grace period before we try to make a friendship work. It's been hard. Although I love the freedom and flexibility I now have, thinking about them moving on and trying to move on myself hasn't been easy. I've been struggling physically and mentally. It's been affecting my work, not by much, but I do see myself making mistakes and slowing down drastically in terms of work ethic. I know this is for the better, but I still get moments of wishing I could go back and crying over this. It doesn't help that they make it look like they're having an easier time transitioning through this. I know that's such a selfish assumption and people grieve differently but I guess there's a part of me that feels like I'm the only one struggling. I don't know what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to get back on my feet at work and pushing through with enrollments for my master's degree. I'm scared I won't find love anymore after this, and honestly I don't know if I can do anything better than what I had with them. I'm just not doing so great. Unlike my other breakups though, this one has no hatred or anger involved, it's just the yearning and mourning over something I was building my life for. I don't know how to go on... I mean, I'm trying my best but I don't know...

Last night I was cheated on for the first time and I’m truly devastated…

Turns out the guy involved was someone I have a lot of drama/history with and I woke up to a message from him this morning…

He’s upload a clip to this website of him and my girlfriend last night and I’m just absolutely godsmacked 😕

At the moment I’m just trying to get the video taken down but I really need to focus on the reality and accept my girlfriend cheated on me with a guy she knows I dislike…

It’s over 💔