Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 2

So today was the day before my science exam, and I wasn’t ready at all. I did a mock test and apparently after I got out of shower, my mother didn’t look so glad. She had that look of disgust in her eyes— trouble.

She scolded me for getting 50% on my mock exam, it wasn’t even the real exam anyway :/, and guess what? She told me to die— like what type of parent does that? The exact line was “you’re lucky this is just a mock test, if it was real, then I would’ve killed you already” or smt I can’t really recall it;;

On the other day, she even got the house keys out and like— made me scared if? I forgot the word for it but i guess whoever is reading this gets it :(

I’ve been venting on my bed for the past few years, it started in 2023 when she grabbed my collar for going for a walk, and since then I would frequently write stuff on my bed— it’s double decked;; like in the corner that only shadows exist— hey my address is ********* you wanna see what I wrote? Nah jk… I’m lucky I grew up this bright right…

Hi, I'm unsure whether I can properly give this story a category. Anyways I'm 24 years old and very conflicted on what I want from life. I have workplace stress (I hate my job, I barely go and my savings are low because of it) which tumbles into other kinds of stresses because I'm worried about affording a down payment on my house. I'm worried about my weight, etc. I also dislike my family and want to be independent of them. Even writing 24 now I feel like cringing and ripping out my hair; I feel so old and so confused about everything.

Anyways my sister had an engagement party recently and I was in a pretty bad mood because of my workplace drama, I won't deny. I had an upset look on my face and didn't really talk to anyone. Beyond that I didn't argue or anything. I felt bad so I apologized to my sister and she claimed she was embarrassed (valid) and says that her in-laws say that I didn't greet them (big offense in my culture). I argued that was wrong, and I greeted everyone except the FIL--honest mistake. But she asked how she could take my word when so many people say otherwise. She said people say bad stuff behind my back all the time (didn't clarify who) and she defends me and my behaviour was a "slap in the face" (she also exaggerates a lot, I wonder how true this is). I promised I would behave better next time, asked if theres anything i can do now to make it up to her in laws (she said no, which is fine).

I feel genuinely bad for my behaviour and embarrassing her but at the same time I feel its unfair she's taking her in-laws side over mine. She decided to get married while she knew him under a year. So its strange to me that ive been her sister her entire life and shes automatically deferring to these people's words, but since im in the wrong already i didnt want to fight with her. The kicker is I now felt my shitty behaviour was justified bc how much of liars her in-laws are and I'm growing to resent her. I already don't really like my family (the only people that could have shit talked her behind my back, so I don't care, I shit talk them a lot), but my sibs have been the exception. It sucks because I feel the older you get the more complicated family dynamics become and I wish I could have the siblings from my childhood, but that's impossible. When her actual wedding and other events do roll around, I will definitely be good and make amends with her family (hopefully.. probably), but I'll personally never stop resenting her or her in laws for this. btw this was not the first time we met and i feel like i'm cordial otherwise.

i feel so sad and heavy writing this because as I get older, life just gets worse. Like i dont wanna be that cousin or whatever that cuts off their family but i dont really like these people. currently, i'm on whatever terms with my family because i need assistance/ advice to work out my life, but once i become established (hopefully when im 30), i wont talk to these people anymore. my sister can have her in laws and take their word. i have a few good friends so i wont be completely lonely, but what a silly trajectory of life.

you know, at 50, one imagines life with a bit more zest. instead, i find myself clocking in to a job where i literally have nothing to do. "getting paid to do nothing" is, strangely enough, as dreary as it sounds. don't get me wrong, i appreciate the paycheck arriving steadily at my bank every two weeks like clockwork, but, man, can you believe the drag of it? when you're expected to produce, to innovate, you feel like a cog in a productive machine. but here, it’s like waiting for a bus that never comes, you know? a project deadline that's perpetually "in-progress," that’s my life now. i've got all the time in the world to binge-watch every show on Netflix or memorize entire catalogues of podcasts, yet—spoiler alert—it does not fill the void.

ever tried to detail your productivity in a team meeting, while knowing you have zilch to show? i sit there, nodding my head to folks discussing "quarterly KPIs" and "optimized strategies,” but inside i’m just hoping nobody asks for updates. a part of me thinks perhaps this is a lesson in patience or maybe even a karmic cycle from when i was overly busy and craved some downtime. irony, huh? sometimes i wonder if my situation is like one of those zen stories where when you seek nothing, you find everything. i mean, have you ever thought that maybe pointless tasks are just undiscovered forms of meditation? albeit ‘corporate zen’ sounds more plausible in theory, it doesn't feel entirely satisfying in practice. would love to hear if anyone else is dealing with workplace ennui. maybe trying to merge this twilight zone of nothingness with fulfilling activities outside work is the key. have any of y’all gotten out of a rut like this before? share some wisdom, would you?

so, idk if i should really talk abt ai art here bc i fear i might get witch hunted or anything. either way, i wanted to talk abt my so-called list vents. this started…idk when, probably many months ago, and i would write down the same phrase over and over again in an unordered list, talking abt things that i’m very tired abt. this is the latest list that i’ve written, titled after a song by tripleS. i hope that i could open up abt my feelings abt ai as a synthographer here, bc i’m sometimes tired of bottling them all up.

* i’m tired of people saying that it’s over or that we’re cooked

* i’m tired of people portraying us as villains

* i’m tired of artists wanting us to pick up a pencil or just about anything that draws

* i’m tired of artists poking fun at us when we can’t generate ai images offline*

* i’m tired of the backlash from an ai-generated comic about two fans and an aircon

* i’m tired of this one creator saying about the very first anime to be 95% generated with ai and it looks like garbage

* i’m tired of artists urging to find alternatives to ai art or death threats will come

* i’m tired of people saying that ai is [insert negative verb ending with “-ing”] the industry

* i’m tired of ai-generated videos abt the apocalypse or anything weird in general

* i’m tired of this so-called “prompt theory”

* i’m tired of not being able to try Veo 3 because it’s under a seriously exorbitant subscription**

* i’m tired of chatgpt being a yes man, as everyone says

* i’m tired of chatgpt poisoning my brain

* i’m tired of being the only person who knows about ai and messes around with it***

* i’m tired of animating a stick figure doing a baseball throw for an assignment

* i’m tired of seeking validation with a chatbot

* i’m tired of losing myself in this ai world

* i’m tired of being alive in this ai world

* i’m tired of these invisible bruises

* i’m tired of all this noise

* i’m tired of feeling like i’ve fallen

* i’m tired of going back to square one after everything works out

* i’m tired of saying “finals week or my final week”

* i’m tired of wanting to drown myself

* i’m tired of making myself write this every month, bc as ai improves, hate grows too

*good thing i have data duh!

**even if i can get it for free with an edu account, then what’s the point if i’ll never use it again if ever?

***i seriously don’t know anybody who does ai art as a hobby in my circle of friends

Im gna fucking lose my shit if my dad keeps talking to me. He expects me to study 18 hours a day and while he sits in the living room, no job, four kids and a wife to provide for. Its fucking crazy coming from him since he’s genuinely an idiot. He keeps saying he’s gna beat the shit out of me if i fail

This is a genuine cry for fucking help

Being gay is so painful; finding love feels like an insurmountable challenge. To those around me, it might seem like I lead a chaotic life, but they have no idea this isn't a choice I made; it just happened. Everyone has different perspectives on gay people, and I've even encountered some gay men who are homophobic, which still doesn't make sense to me. I'm not feminine, and none of my friends know about my sexual orientation; they all think I'm straight, and I've maintained that status quo.

I wish I could talk to them about my dating experiences, but I can't. It's equally difficult for me to find the right partner, and the world feels so harsh. I don't even know how I'll manage in the future. People call me 'hot,' but I don't understand why guys don't seem to like me that much; they often say we can't have a future, and I don't have an answer for that.

I just wish I was never gay. Would my life still be this difficult? My emotional health is suffering, and I have no one to talk to. I'm all by myself, trying to fix myself, feel better, and live a decent life.

Experiencing multiple betrayals and being left alone has made me lose faith in love, and I constantly wonder if I'll ever be normal again or find the right person.

I feel so wasted for giving my best to someone who didn't care. I've started to hate myself, questioning why I can't live all by myself, and thinking how wonderful that would be. I've begun to believe that people are heartless and don't deserve to be loved.

I'm almost 18 and I lost my dad during January, 2024. He apparently died overnight due to a complication of diabetes. I don't remember what day it was, I just know it was the day we all went back to school after winter break. Our relationship was never good. I was his only daughter and he was raised with unhealthy viewpoints on women and their roles in society. Not a great combo. I was ridiculed by him often for my shortcomings, or just for nothing at all to be honest. Everyday was a constant battle with him and the other members of our family living in the house. I mostly took care of everything leading up to his death. My mother was a recovering drug addict, so she did not have custody of me or my brother. The only mother figure I had was my grandmother, who would endorse my father's negative behavior and scratch it off to him being stressed or unhealthy, which was true but not justifiable. Custody was given to my aunt.

My aunt and I were close, and I always dreamed of living with her. But now that I am, I'm indescribably lonely and I don't know how to deal with this. It's like I'm stuck in some weird out of pocket void that no one knows or acknowledges, because they're too busy revolving within their own lives. That sounded cringey but you get the point. My friends have moved on and I'm witnessing my aunt interact with her own biological children and it just makes me so...angry. I know thats wrong but I honestly just feel so frustrated. I wanted this love. This love that can only come from a mother or father. But I was cheated out of it by both parents. My aunt claims she loves me as one of her own kids but I know thats not true. I should just be grateful that she loves me, shouldn't I? Why isn't that enough for me? Why do I want to go and be jealous of everyone around me and make myself miserable in the process? But that parental love I want just can't be mimicked or replicated. There will always be differences between the love for ones own children and a relative. And I can't explain the pain that eats at my chest whenever I witness these imbalances. It's suffocating but its no ones fault. I think thats the worst part for me, that there's no one I can blame for this.

That's why I came on here for the first time. I need advice or just someone who can relate to me. How do you deal with this loneliness? How do you deal with the absence of a true parental love? Will this feeling ever go away?

I appreciate anyone who sees and reads this post, especially those who take the time to offer me some insight. May you all have a good day/night.

I don't know where to start, but it feels heavy, and it always happens quite sometimes now. Am I the problem? Am I the bad daughter? Please enlighten me and give me some advice, I'm a working student, I work at the university, and in exchange, I'm only paying my tuition fee of 1,000. So that's why I can't no longer help with the house chores anymore, but I will help once I get the free time. Sometimes I do all of our laundry on Sunday so that I can at least help. But I think it wasn't enough because all of what I heard from my mother is always nagging and telling me that I no longer help with the house chores, and now I'm lazy. It feels heavy right now because my mother and I is fighting as a while ago

it’s been eating at me for years now, this thing i carry around, like a rotting piece of fruit in my pocket—i can’t just throw it away, but damn if it doesn’t stink up everything. i cheated. not once. not even just a fling that came and went. multiple times, over the years, with different women, for different reasons, and none of them were good enough. i never told her. my wife, the one who still looks at me like i’m the guy she married twenty years ago. the guilt didn’t hit right away; it crept in slow, like fog rolling over a field, and now i can barely see who i am anymore. forgiveness feels like a word other people get to use, not me. i tried everything—therapy, journaling, praying (and i’m not even religious), but none of it sticks because the truth is still there, hidden and heavy. i know people say “forgive yourself or it’ll eat you alive,” but they never talk about how to do it when the person you hurt doesn’t even know they were hurt. is it even forgiveness if there’s no accountability? or is it just denial dressed up as healing? i don’t want to confess just to ease my own conscience, that feels selfish. but doing nothing, pretending i can move forward while dragging this corpse of a past behind me, doesn’t work either.

i keep asking myself, “what would i tell someone else in my position?” i’d probably say, “you’re not the worst thing you’ve done.” but when it’s you, when you look in the mirror and you see the choices etched into your face, that’s a whole other story. i’m trying to show up every day as a better man. i do the chores without being asked, i actually listen when she talks, i plan date nights—stupid little things that don’t erase the past but might just build something better today. but it’s not really for her; it’s for me, trying to prove i’m not a total piece of shit. the worst part is knowing she might never find out, and if she did, it would destroy everything we built. i don’t want to confess just to clean my soul at the cost of her peace. so where does that leave me? stuck in this weird middle ground between shame and pretending. it’s like trying to fix a leak with duct tape—you know it’s not gonna last, but you keep using it anyway. sometimes i wish she would find out on her own, just so the weight would fall off me without having to make the choice; that’s cowardly, i know. but feelings aren’t always noble. “we are more often treacherous through weakness than through calculation,” montesquieu said. maybe that’s me. maybe that’s all of us. 🥀

I LITERALLY HAVE NO HOBBIES, I FEEL LIKE MY FRIENDS HATE ME, IM BAD AT ART, WHEN IM IN FANDOM SPACES IM SCARED TO TALK TO ANYONE CUZ OF MY SEVERE AHH SOCIAL ANXIETY BRO💔 also my family is broken apart ahahahhelpme

My bf: I don't want to go canoeing with you. It sounds like work, and I'm too busy anyway! Now here's something really fun, how about your drive me to my friend's daughter's who you've met 3 times's high school graduation and accompany me at her graduation party for 8 hours? Oh, and no drinking because you're the driver! Doesn't that sound like fun and not work?

i’m 38 and i shake like a goddamn leaf when the anxiety hits hard. it’s not subtle, it’s not “just in my head,” it’s full-on tremors like i’m freezing in a meat locker naked. i hate it. it’s embarrassing, especially in public or at work. people pretend not to notice, but they notice—oh, they fucking notice. my hands twitch, my legs bounce, sometimes my jaw clenches so tight it hurts. and the worst part? it doesn’t even matter if i know it’s coming. there’s no warning bell, no gentle rise of stress i can manage—just boom, there it is. i’ve tried to outthink it. i’ve tried grounding exercises, breathing like some enlightened yoga douchebag, and even imagining myself in calm places. but when it hits, it’s like my body betrays me, and logic goes out the damn window. 🧠

the shaking doesn’t care if you’ve got a deadline or a meeting or a date. it shows up when it wants and ruins everything. i’ve tried to explain to people around me—like hey, i’m not nervous about you, i’m not having some freakout because of this specific situation—it’s just a chemical overload in my brain going haywire. but people don’t really get it unless they’ve lived it. and honestly, most of the time i don’t have the damn energy to explain it anyway. the worst part is pretending it’s not happening; forcing myself to hold a coffee cup steady when my hand clearly says otherwise. like what am i supposed to do, tape my limbs down? i can’t just vanish from reality every time it hits; that’s not how life works;

what’s also wild is how random it can be. i’ve had full days where everything seemed fine—slept well, ate like a damn adult, kept my caffeine low—and then bam, anxiety tornado from hell. it doesn’t care about logic or rhythm. i’ll be driving and suddenly my foot's twitching on the pedal, or trying to read a book and the words blur from the tension. the only thing that seems to work a little is stepping outside and pacing like an unhinged philosopher. the movement sometimes tricks my brain into focusing on walking instead of spiraling. but who the hell has time to go for a walk every time they get shaky? it’s not realistic when you’ve got shit to do, kids to feed, jobs to hold down, bills to worry about.

one time at a restaurant, i knocked over a glass trying to lift it to my mouth. the server gave me that awkward half-smile, the kind people use when they’re trying to be kind but don’t want to get involved. i could feel my face go red as hell, and i wanted to crawl under the table. my date asked if i was okay and i just nodded like a damn liar. i wasn’t okay. i was shaking so badly i wanted to run to the bathroom and hide until my system cooled off. i didn’t though. i stayed. i wiped up the water with a napkin and kept the conversation going, because that’s what we do, right? pretend it’s fine until it is, or until it ends.

so here i am, still figuring it out. i don’t have some miracle answer, and honestly, i don’t think there is one. anxiety like this is physical. it’s not always mental. it lives in the body like a parasite and shows up when it wants. maybe one day it’ll leave me the hell alone. maybe not. but until then, i try not to beat myself up every time the shakes come. i let my body freak out a bit if it needs to, try to slow my breathing, maybe grip something solid and ride it out. it sucks, but it is what it is. if you deal with this too, you’re not broken. you’re just trying to keep moving through something that’s hard to describe but very, very real. and if anyone tells you to “just relax”? tell them to kindly fuck off.

as a 17-year-old male confined to a wheelchair since birth, the notion of possessing a superpower often captivates my imagination. it's an intriguing scenario to envision - transcending the limitations of my physical form and embracing abilities that defy the laws of nature. in such flights of fancy, i ponder the myriad of possibilities: the gift of flight, the capability to manipulate time, or the power to heal. despite the practical implausibility of acquiring such skills, the concept remains captivating and serves as a source of motivation and contemplation.

in my musings, the prospect of flight often takes center stage. the idea of soaring through the clouds, emancipating oneself from the restraints of gravity - it's truly exhilarating. "but would the exhilaration of soaring through endless skies outweigh the responsibility that often accompanies such power?" one might ask. it's a fair point, given the complexities of the airspace, the burden of providing aid when needed, and the ethical dilemma of intervening in natural calamities. while navigating through such ethical quandaries, the allure of flight remains enticing nonetheless.

time manipulation also piques interest, with its far-reaching implications. one might ponder the ramifications of revisiting moments, altering choices, and even witnessing future. however, "would controlling the fabric of time itself lead to adverse consequences, disrupting the delicate equilibrium?" considering the predicaments of paradoxes and affecting the universe's timeline provoke an array of philosophical inquiries. indeed, these are inquiries from scholars and philosophers that have been contemplated throughout ages, potentially providing insight and balance to harness such immense power judiciously.

the ability to heal, perhaps the most altruistic of powers, resonates deeply with the desire to ameliorate suffering. at first glance, it appears immaculate and devoid of complications. yet, "would possessing the capability to heal indiscriminately compromise the natural order and progression of life and death?" in reflecting upon perspectives shared by medical professionals and ethicists, one must acknowledge the complexities of intervention, the ethical implications of prolonging life, and the impact on the global ecosystem. these are considerations that add gravitas and depth to the proposition of wielding such a formidable gift.

perhaps engaging in such a hypothetical discourse serves as an exercise in understanding not only oneself but also the embrace of limitations and potentialities. as i contemplate these superpowers, i'm often led to consider the latent power within - the ability to inspire, to innovate, and to transform adversity into opportunity. ultimately, i ask, "how do you, dear reader, perceive the superpowers within and beyond, and how would they define your existence?" indeed, this is an inquiry into the extraordinary capabilities we each possess, waiting to be realized in manifold forms. 🤔

So he dumped me. Yeah, it's the classic story of a two-year relationship ending in a blazing inferno of heartbreak and confusion. Ever felt your heart drop to your stomach like a malfunctioning elevator? That's exactly how it went down. Two years of late-night cuddles, inside jokes, and shared Spotify playlists just tossed aside like yesterday’s trash. And here I am, a 21-year-old woman, staring at my reflection asking, "why can't I stop crying?" 😭

Seriously though, who even decides it's perfectly fine to obliterate someone’s universe over a text? That's right, he broke up with me over a damn text! Talk about modern-day dating atrocities. Why did I ever trust someone with the emotional intelligence of a goldfish? As you can guess, I haven’t stopped crying since. Not to be melodramatic, but I feel like I've been caught in a torrential downpour without an umbrella. RIP my post-breakup plans 🌧️ They say it takes half the time you were with someone to get over them; does that mean I've got a solid year of this emotional rollercoaster still to ride? 🚂

The rational part of me knows this is just a transient phase, that I'll eventually overcome this episode; but the other part, the one that holds onto those self-inflicted pity parties, has a different narrative to spin. Funny, you never really understand the term 'emotional baggage' until someone decides to up and leave, leaving you with enough emotional luggage to open a boutique. Yet here I am, holding onto the scraps of memories and the wreckage of what was. Aren't we supposed to grow from these experiences? Or is that just a nugget of wisdom to placate the wounded ego? 🤔