Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 2

sometimes i just can’t take it all in. it’s like the lights are too bright, the music too loud, the people too many. the colors and sounds clash in my head until it feels like my brain’s about to fry. i try to breathe, but it’s not enough; i end up snapping at people or shutting down completely, just to get a bit of space. i hate being that person, the one who can’t handle a simple party or a shopping trip without losing my mind. is it really that hard for the world to slow down just a bit??? i get so frustrated with myself, but i can’t control it. it feels like my brain’s running on high-speed internet in a world where everyone else is on dial-up. i get overloaded and then crash like a stupid system error; it’s humiliating and exhausting.

when i try to explain this to anyone, they look at me like i’m some kind of freak. “just relax,” they say, as if i haven’t tried that a million times. but relaxing doesn’t stop the buzzing in my head or the way my skin crawls when there’s too much going on. it’s not about stress, it’s about everything being too much, all at once. crowds, bright lights, loud noises—they all blend together into this horrible mess that i can’t untangle from. i end up hiding in the bathroom, pretending to be busy on my phone, just so i don’t have to feel the sensory overload; it’s pathetic, i know, but it’s the only way i can keep from breaking down. have you ever felt like this?? like the world is attacking you for no reason??

still, i’m trying to stay positive. i tell myself that it’s not weakness to recognize my limits. i’m learning to plan my days better, to take breaks when i need them, and to speak up when things get too overwhelming. i’ve even started carrying earplugs in my bag for those moments when i can’t handle the noise. i know it’s not perfect, and yeah, i still have days when everything feels like too much and i want to scream. but i’m figuring it out, little by little. i’m not giving up on myself. i’ll find ways to make the world a little quieter, a little softer, so i can keep going without feeling like my head’s about to explode. i just wish it didn’t have to be so hard all the time; wouldn’t it be nice if we could all just chill for a minute??? 😤

Losing my husband unexpectedly was a heart-breaking experience that left me grappling with unbearable sorrow and navigating an uncertain future. Honestly, there were moments when I felt completely lost and alone, questioning how I could possibly move forward without him by my side. Amidst the overwhelming grief, my mum became an incredible pillar of strength for me. She offered a comforting presence during my darkest moments and helped me find a way out of the grief abyss. I had to ask myself, where would I be without her unwavering support and kind words during these trying times???

My mum's wisdom and compassion were nothing short of lifesavers. Every morning she called, ensuring I knew she was there and that I wasn't facing this new reality alone. An unplanned bonus to her supportive presence was her uncanny knack for knowing when I just needed someone to listen, without uttering a single word in return. We joked quite a bit, which was a much-needed breather from the suffocating heaviness of grief. She had the extraordinary ability to bring back a little sunshine into my life. Can you imagine what a gift that is?? Her thoughtful hugs and cups of tea were small gestures that went a long way to settling my scattered mind. Mum wasn’t afraid to take the reins and help me with daily tasks that suddenly felt monumental. 💪 Household chores, meal preps, even a few Netflix nights that started to fill up the void ever-so-slightly. It’s funny how parents continue to surprise us even when we’re adults, isn't it?? Her invaluable guidance taught me to honor my emotions, yet remain hopeful about the future and acknowledge that it’s okay to ask for help. My healing journey would be incomplete without recognizing her selfless love and encouragement that equipped me with the strength to move forward each day. 🧡

i started my onlyfans account like a year ago, just for some extra cash, but i didn’t expect how quickly it’d take over my life. i’m 21, i thought i could handle it, just treat it like a job, you know? but it’s like this thing where the lines between work and life get real blurry. i’m on my phone all the time, messaging with clients, keeping up that sexy, flirty energy that makes them feel special. it’s addictive, not just the money, but the attention too. i catch myself checking messages during lunch, replying when i should be chilling, constantly waiting for the next notification. it’s not like i even know these guys, but their messages give me that little rush, like someone’s thinking about me, wanting me. sometimes it feels empowering, other times it’s just draining. does that sound messed up?

i’ve had friends say, “girl, you need to set boundaries,” but it’s not as easy as it sounds. when your income depends on how responsive and available you are, it’s tough to step back. i’ll tell myself, just this one time, just a few messages, and suddenly an hour’s gone. the worst part? i’ve started sexting outside of work hours, not because i want to, but because it feels like the only way to stay relevant in the game. even when i’m not on the clock, i’ll catch myself drafting flirty texts in my head, thinking about angles, what i’d say to hook them in. it’s like my brain’s wired for it now, constantly on edge, thinking, “how can i keep them coming back?” it’s not healthy, right? but how do you just stop when you’ve made it your normal?

sometimes i look at my phone and think, “what am i doing?” i used to be so social, going out, hanging with friends, but now my social life is basically these online chats. i know it’s my choice, i know i’m the one who opened the account and started down this path, but i didn’t expect it to get this deep. it’s weird because i’m not even in a relationship, but i feel like i’m constantly ‘with’ someone through these texts. like my real life’s on hold while i live in this virtual flirty bubble. maybe i need to find a better balance, or maybe it’s just part of the hustle. i don’t know. ever been in a situation where the thing you thought you could control just takes over your whole mindset?

i've always been told i'm too skinny; like, what does that even mean? i mean, can a person ever be too skinny? it's not like i'm starving myself or anything. i'm just seventeen. so let me set the scene: i stare into my closet and think about all the clothes that look weird because they hang off my frame like i'm some sort of hanger; everything meant to fit snug and cute, instead, it looks like a cheap mannequin display. i'm a girl who loves fashion magazines, but every article about the size zero models makes me feel inadequate and yet too adequate at the same time. it's crazy, isn't it? instead of being happy with my body, i'm constantly criticized by strangers, "eat a cheeseburger" they say with a laugh that tastes as sour as unwarranted judgment. i roll my eyes at those ignorant remarks, but deep down, it leaves a mark, like a permanent tattoo of self-doubt. even my doctor, who's supposed to be reassuring, goes on about my body mass index, like "girl, i know it's below average, but i eat". it's not like i want to be this way, trust me if i could add a few pounds in a blink, i totally would. have you seen how people treat those with curves? like they’ve discovered the holy grail of acceptance; what a world we live in. in gym class, i'm that girl who avoids the scales and cringes at the sight of a tape measure. the reaction from others is usually a mix of concern and envy, both equally unsettling. ever tried sitting at a dinner table with someone who scrutinizes your plate? "is that all you're eating?" – gosh, yes Karen, that’s all i’m eating today, move on! i can't help but feel like "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" where nothing is just right. why is it acceptable to comment on someone being thin but taboo to mention excess weight? what sort of double standard is this society serving us? casually people assume my life is perfect, just because i'm a size that can squeeze into whatever's on the sale rack. my friends talk about thigh gaps and diet fads, but i’d kill just to fill out a pair of jeans properly. dude, ever heard of "skinny shaming"? it's real, and it sucks. the body positivity movement is powerful, and i believe in it, but hey, it’s selective sometimes. everyone rallies for "all shapes and sizes", until it’s a shape and size they think doesn't fit into their narrative. i get it though – i'm not complaining about my health or anything, i know i'm lucky, but can we talk about how i feel for a moment? once, during a biology lecture about metabolism rates, i flinched at the professor’s words, imagining the class thinking i’m some anomaly. when did this competitive, comparative analysis become our new norm? no one seems to grasp that metabolism isn't just another word for magic tricks, it's basic biology, yet i feel judged by my own cellular processes. how insane is that? magazine covers might say "thin is in," but try being seventeen and "in" feels like living under a microscope where every move is critiqued, not celebrated. everyone wants me to meet their subjective ideal instead of accepting the fluctuating, unpredictable human form i house. sometimes i wonder if it’ll ever change, or if i’ll just become more desensitized to the pokes and jabs over time. maybe i've been quoting too much Sartre, who knows, i’m just trying to navigate this minefield called adolescence with a sense of humor and a thick skin thinner than i’d like it to be. at least i know i’m not alone in this, the internet forums prove that – lots of underweight teens encouraging and sharing tips and stories to empower one another. we need more of that solidarity, don't you think? so, what's the verdict, internet stranger? any revolutionary tips for a girl who's frustrated, tired of being quantified by caloric intake and body fat percentage when really, she just wants enough room to be herself? after all, life’s complicated enough without having to wage a war with the scale every morning. 🥺

i’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to cut off contact with your own parents. it’s not a decision you make lightly, it’s not something you wake up one morning and decide “oh, i’m done with them now,” and it’s definitely not a thing you can explain to people without sounding like the villain. but the truth is, it wasn’t just one big fight, or a betrayal that led me here. it was more like a million little paper cuts that eventually made me bleed out. each conversation, each snide comment, each cold shoulder... they stacked up like bricks around my chest until breathing became a chore. and now, i’m at a point where silence feels safer than words ever did.

there’s this misconception that going no contact is an impulsive act, a dramatic outburst, but let me tell you – it’s calculated, it’s weighed, and it’s born from years of exhaustion. for me, it wasn’t about punishing them; it was about protecting myself. there’s a sort of peace in not waiting for a call that won’t come, in not bracing for the disappointment that hits you when you realize the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally... just didn’t know how. i still remember the last time i tried to explain my feelings to them, how i said, “i just need space,” and they responded with guilt-tripping and accusations like i was betraying the family code. maybe you’ve felt that too, the subtle manipulation, the expectation that no matter what, you’ll bend because “they’re your parents” – but at what cost?

cutting ties isn’t about hate, it’s about survival. sometimes you’ve got to ask yourself, “how much more of myself do i have to lose before i finally put up a boundary?” i used to sit in my room after those long, draining phone calls, wondering if i was being too sensitive, too dramatic, too harsh. but with time, i realized i was just human, and there’s only so much hurt you can endure before you have to step away for your own sanity. and yes, the guilt still gnaws at me, especially on holidays or when i hear from relatives asking why i’ve become so distant. but i remind myself that self-preservation isn’t selfishness; it’s necessary.

so, i sit here now, scrolling through old photos, thinking about what could have been if they had just tried a little harder, listened a little closer, or loved a little better. but i can’t change them, and i can’t keep sacrificing my peace to maintain a relationship that only drains me. i’m learning to accept that some doors are meant to stay closed, that not every story gets a happy ending, and that’s okay. sure, there’s a lingering sadness, an ache for what i wish i had, but there’s also relief in knowing i’ve chosen myself, finally. and maybe that’s the real takeaway here – that sometimes the healthiest love is the one you give yourself, even when it means walking away from those who were supposed to give it to you first.

does it ever get easier? i don’t know. maybe it’s just one of those things you learn to live with, like a scar that reminds you of a wound that’s healed but still aches when it rains. and when people ask me if i’ll ever reconnect, i just shrug and say, “maybe one day,” because who really knows? but for now, i’m okay with the quiet, with the space i’ve carved out for myself, and with the understanding that no contact doesn’t mean no love – it just means love from a distance. and maybe that’s enough; maybe that’s all i can give.

It’s not even like I woke up one morning and thought that... but yeah, I don't really know who I am anymore right now... It was a slow, agonizing realization, one that gnawed at the edges of my mind every damn day, like a relentless parasite. I’ve given up so much of myself for this relationship. My personality, my interests, my humor, my own fucking preferences. I remember how I used to laugh at stupid things, how I loved blasting heavy metal in the car and feeling the bass rumble through my chest. Now, I sit there in silence, pretending to enjoy his godawful indie playlists because, apparently, that's what "we" do. Do you see the irony? I don’t even know who I am because I’ve been eroded, worn down like some fucking rock in a stream. One little compromise at a time, I traded myself for this empty façade of “us.” But what about me?

I don’t even recognize my face in the mirror anymore. I used to wear bold makeup, vivid colors that made me feel fierce and powerful. Now, it’s all muted tones, subtle pinks, and nudes. Why? Because he said it was more “natural.” Natural? Who gives a shit? I used to stand up for myself, used to call people out on their bullshit, but now I find myself swallowing my anger like it’s some bitter pill I have to take just to keep the peace. I hate myself for it. I hate that I’ve become this quiet, compliant version of myself, a woman I’d probably roll my eyes at if I met her. And the worst part? He probably thinks I’m “happy” like this. Well, fuck that. I’m not happy. I’m trapped in a persona I created to survive this relationship, and I’m suffocating in it. How the hell did I get here?

I tried to claw my way back to who I was. I picked up my guitar again, the one I used to play every day before this relationship turned my world into a grayscale. But the strings felt foreign under my fingers. I couldn’t even remember the chords to my favorite song. It was like trying to speak a language I used to be fluent in but had completely forgotten. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is? To lose not just your interests but the muscle memory of who you used to be? It’s like my brain was reprogrammed, overwritten by his preferences, his needs, his fucking whims. And the scary thing is, I let it happen. Bit by bit, I chipped away at myself until there was nothing left but a hollow echo of the woman I used to be. And he didn’t even notice, or worse, he noticed and liked it.

Sometimes, I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck I’m doing. Who am I? Am I even a person anymore, or just some prop in his perfectly curated life? I fantasize about walking out the door, slamming it behind me, and reclaiming my fucking soul. But then I think about the logistics—where would I go, what would I do, how would I even start over? I feel like a ghost, haunting a life I never agreed to live, and I don’t know how to escape. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t even want advice. I just want to scream into the void: I don’t know who I am anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if I scream loud enough, the real me might hear it and claw her way back. Or maybe she’s already gone. Who knows? 🖕

i'm aware that there's a high possibility that most of this is my fault for not like expressing myself or whatever, so i am wondering if i'm 'crazy' - if i'm being reasonable. my friends aren't the most supportive people to me, but that can be explained by me not being a very open person myself. a lot of them have relatively big problems in their own lives and they come to others in the group to vent or cope, but i don't have those types of big problems, at least not anymore. but when i did (when a family member had cancer) i went through it basically alone as i, successfully somehow, trudged through other areas of my life like academics. it was never something that i would let get myself down. but the thing is my friends didnt really try to reach out? i know they knew i told them or my parents told their parents who told them. maybe they knew i wouldnt be so receptive, because i really would not have, but its the fact that it feels like they didnt even try. theres this sense of building resentment as it becomes easier and easier for me to notice their flaws, especially when they interact with each other, weirdly enough. i never point it out because the recipients never seem to have a problem with it but sometimes it drives me mad. one of my friends, she doesn't even notice it, but she turns almost every conversation to herself to talk about her problems. once, another friend was talking about her problems, very serious ones, and somehow she managed to turn the conversation completely around to her problems. but this other friend didn't seem to have a problem with it. but it really fucking pissed me off, even though i didn't say anything. it feels like i am seeing something that isn't there and i have to stay quiet because it looks like no one else notices or cares. am i crazy? do i have self centered friends? am i the self centered one? idfk but i feel isolated from this group and im wondering how much of it is my fault. oh also, they all forgot my birthday last year and i give them some benefit of the doubt because i didnt mention any plans or that it was coming but i have known them for several years, whereas several from my high school who ive known for like two at that point wished me happy birthday. honestly im waiting to see if they remember this year since its coming up. i think i might be ridiculous.

Growing up, I was used to being praised by my relatives. My aunts and uncles, and most importantly, my mother and father. I was the younger sibling, have an older and only sister, I was praised because I achieved far more greater things than my sibling had, as they've said really. I grew up having those expectations normalised towards me because I never had trouble keeping up with them. I also won those competitions because my mom wants me to and has me practice hard. With honours, first placer in poster making, the class and even the schools representative when competing with other schools in the district, once in the division level..

I was never the smart kid though, just enough, by fourth grade I entered every single poster and any art related contests and won the gold medal most of the time. I never connected it to the fact that those added points must've been what pulled my grades high.

My older sibling always had lesser grades than me, always berated and compared to my higher grades. I always preened on the compliments yet maybe I should’ve felt bad instead that my sibling was being judged and ridiculed for barely passing. I didn't know then what it felt like.

I never thought I’d experience those things, yet I did. Entering highschool, I never placed high expectations on myself. Why would I when big grades always came naturally to me even without the tiring studying back at elementary?

Yet now, lesson after lesson I fail to comprehend them, I barely understood the materials and repeatedly got less than good scores in activities and tests. I excel in project making yet pretty designs will never get me far. Now I barely hang on to my honour streak.

Then that day came.

Our advisor posted the list of who made it to the honours list in our class gc. And for the first time I didn’t see my name. At most half of us didn't make it to the honour list so I rationalized that Im not an odd one out. I didn’t feel much, I didn’t let myself feel much, not while I was in school in front of my friends. I felt disappointed, sure but I let it go because I knew I couldn’t do anything about it anymore.

Then when I got home, I suddenly felt myself being nervous around my mother, she kept asking me and I relented and told her I failed for the very first time to be in the honour list.

What hurt more was that she didn’t scream at me. She usually does on smaller matters (she'd curse a lot) but now she simply sounded disappointed, berated me and told me how I would tell my hardworking father. What’s worse was that I was now the one being compared to my older sibling who was passing her classes.

I didn't cry, I didn’t feel like needing to cry even by then, I was ashamed but I didn’t cry, I felt numb that I didn’t cry, I kept quiet and took in all her words. She told me she expected better and that honest to god hurts most.

When dinner came around my mother told my father about my failed grades, he sounded disappointed and angry too. I didn’t cry. I expected and deserved it.

Yet. when I was alone, feeding the dog (she's tied outside by the shop where my dad fixes cars, he's a self employed mechanic) I felt my eyes water and tears started falling down, my chest tightened and I wanted to stop yet I couldn't. I hid behind our car that was nearby, ashamed to be seen crying over my failed grades. Now hunched over in the shadows, trying desperately to wipe the onslaught of tears, I took and shaky breaths and composed myself as best as I could. Finishing up with my chore and going to my room as if I hadn't been crying my eyes out.

i’ve spent my whole life chasing the dream of being a pro footballer, y’know? every day, training on my own, with the lads, at the gym, trying to push myself harder than yesterday. i’d wake up early, sleep late, never stopped thinking about the game. but now, i’m 23, and it’s finally hitting me that maybe, just maybe, i’m not good enough. no club’s ever taken me seriously, and i can’t even get a spot to earn a basic salary from this. it hurts, honestly, because i gave it everything i had. my parents, bless them, they’ve been my biggest cheerleaders, always saying “don’t give up,” but i can see it in their eyes too – they’re worried about what comes next. i should’ve studied more, kept my options open, but all i could think of was football. now it feels like i’m standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering what to do next. do i keep pushing for something that’s not happening, or do i finally admit i need a plan b?

the thing is, i don’t even know what i’d do if it’s not football. i’ve put all my eggs in this basket for so long, i can’t imagine doing anything else. i didn’t focus on school, didn’t get a trade, nothing. football was my life, my identity. now i feel like a fool, and it’s scary. but i guess life’s not over yet. there’s still time to figure something out, even if it means starting from scratch. i’ve been thinking about coaching, maybe working with kids, trying to pass on what i know. or i could look at fitness training or something else sporty – something that keeps me close to the game. it’s not the big dream i had, but it’s a start, right? i’m not gonna sit around and mope forever, i just need to get my head straight and make a new plan; maybe this was never meant to be my path in the first place. have you ever felt like your dream was slipping away from you and you had to start again?

sometimes i feel embarrassed talking about this, like i’m letting everyone down – my family, my mates, even myself. but deep down, i know they just want me to be happy. it’s not about how much money you make or the career you have, it’s about waking up and feeling good about what you’re doing. i don’t want to waste more years chasing something that’s breaking me down. i’m still young, i’ve got time to figure it out, and i’m not afraid to work hard – i just need to be smart about it. maybe i’ll find something that gives me the same buzz as football. maybe it’ll take a while. but i’m not giving up on life, not on my dreams either, just shifting them a bit. at the end of the day, it’s about finding your own version of success, whatever that looks like. so why am i not good enough? maybe i am – just not for the path i thought i wanted.

There's a guy I have met in dating app with him I wanna have romantic feelings with him but he has friendly feelings n said he wants to friends and slowly develop into something but idk how long will it take. He said his past was not good because of hurry relationship n stuff.

When he was online in app I was really jealous but he told it was because he saw old friend n chatted in his hometown.

Then he compared his friend with me I was devastated.

I told him i will move on clearly but in reality idk what to do.

sometimes i just wake up feeling like the weight of the whole world is pressing down on me, and it feels like i can’t catch a break from it all. i’m 28, and i guess i’ve reached that point where everything in life seems heavy; the bills, the job that never gives me peace of mind, and the constant pressure to be more, to do better. even though i try to keep my head up and push through, it feels like every step forward pulls me two steps back. i look at myself and wonder if i’m really doing what i was meant to do, if this struggle is supposed to be my reality. i mean, why should i keep going, right? but then, there’s this tiny spark inside me that whispers maybe it’s worth seeing where it leads, maybe there’s something ahead i haven’t seen yet. sometimes it’s not about the big achievements, but the small wins, like making a stranger smile or finishing a book that lifts me up just a little bit. i wonder if that’s enough to hold onto.

there are days when i sit quietly, sipping my coffee, and the silence feels louder than a crowd, but i still choose to show up for the day; it’s not easy. there are moments where i feel like i’m stuck in an endless loop of trying and failing, trying and failing, and it’s exhausting. but when i look around, when i see the sun peeking through the blinds or hear my neighbor’s dog barking like he’s calling out to me, i remember that there are little things that make life less unbearable. it’s funny how those tiny, seemingly insignificant details can pull me back from the edge of giving up completely. have you ever thought about that? how the smallest thing can spark a feeling of connection, even if just for a second? i’m not saying it fixes everything, but it’s enough to keep me from falling too deep. i try to remind myself that feelings, even the overwhelming ones, come and go; maybe that’s what makes them bearable in the long run.

i guess the real question is, am i willing to keep trying despite it all? it’s easy to think about quitting when the weight feels too heavy, but then i remind myself of the people who care about me, even if i don’t always see it. i think about the future, the chance that maybe one day i’ll look back and realize this was just a rough chapter and not the whole story. do you ever think about that? that maybe the bad days don’t define everything? i know it’s hard to hold onto that idea when everything feels like it’s falling apart, but i’m trying. i’m trying because deep down i believe that tomorrow could be different, that there might be a reason to smile, a reason to breathe deeply and say, “i made it through this day.” maybe that’s why i should keep living, because there’s still a chance for things to change, and i’m curious to see what’s on the other side.

As an insecure 15 year old girl, I am very confused rn or maybe just in denial.

There was a guy that I met online and he lovebombed me. He was weird and perverted but I didn't care because he expressed that he wanted me.

I don't think all of this anger and sadness that I'm feeling rn is because of him but because of myself. I didn't like him romantically but I kept talking to him because he fed my ego... he made me feel wanted.

Ig I want to date especially when prom is coming up this year but I have a delusional fantasy that someone sweet and kind will just suddenly pop up and like me like those corny romcoms.

My head keeps on telling me that I'm not good enough to have someone want me. That I'm too ugly and uninteresting to even pique someone's interest. (I mean a part of me thinks I'm good looking, my friends assures me and people online too but I just can't trust it because you know!? Would you actually tell your ugly friend that their ugly?? ) ( Irl people don't look at me for my looks but in socmed they do)

I hate how I have my hopes up when someone even just looks at me for a sec.

I do get stares when I go out, I mean duh!! it's normal because humans have eyes so they obviously will use it. But I'm just curious on what type of stare it was... Like a stare that I look pretty or a stare that I have something on face.

I'm going to share an emberassing thing that sometimes when I accidentally get stolen glances from a guy his girlfriend shows up ughh so emberassing!! Ik I shouldn't hate myself for it but!!

Any advice? Or maybe people who also relate 🥹

so... my wife of 25 years suddenly tells me she wants to see other people.... now, i ain't saying i'm the most open-minded guy on the planet, but this really left me scrambling for answers. i mean, after a quarter of a century of marriage, are we really doing this? is sharing my wife something i should even consider? i'm a guy who appreciates loyalty and commitment, you know? i always thought those things were the bedrock of our relationship. we were the couple who finished each other's sentences and could talk without speaking a word. now i find myself wondering if all those moments meant the same to her as they did to me. she tells me she still loves me, that this isn't about replacing me, just about exploring new experiences. but let's be real, how am i supposed to process that? is it unreasonable of me to expect exclusivity in a marriage? am i being too old-school here? now, i'm no prude, and i know times are changing, but this kind of feels like exploring new territories when i'm comfortable where i've been planting my roots. i find myself asking if sharing my spouse is really something people do in a healthy relationship. i guess it's a matter of perspective, right? i've read about open relationships, and some people swear by them, saying it brings them closer and all that jazz. but let's be straight here: sharing your partner ain't everyone's cup of tea. there’s an insecurity that bubbles up just thinking about it. like, how does a guy not worry about being pushed aside or becoming the plan b? talking to some buddies about this hasn't exactly put my mind at ease either. one of them said, "dude, if it makes her happy, maybe it's worth considering." sure, i get that making your partner happy is important, but what about my happiness? is it selfish of me to feel anxious and uncomfortable with the idea that she might find something - or someone - better? and then, what about trust? sharing her means putting a helluva lot of trust out there. what if trust turns into jealousy? can our marriage handle that test? then i think about all the years we've spent building a family, raising kids, and i wonder what it says to them if we embark on this route. is it saying, "hey, devotion isn't that big of a deal after all?" maybe i'm overthinking it, but what message does that send? it’s just that the thought of her with someone else—it’s unnerving. i always figured marriage was a two-person gig. so, am i wrong for feeling territorial about my wife? i thought we signed up for a lifetime of commitment, not a lease with renewal options. perhaps i'm just trying to hold onto a notion that time and society have evolved beyond. i still don't know if i have the emotional bandwidth to share her affection. so, i'm reaching out into the anonymous void looking for advice or perspective. how do i get my head around this without losing it? i mean, i wouldn't mind hearing some realistic takes or personal stories from anyone who's been down this road. have you ever been asked to share something you couldn't quite let go of? not sure where this will lead, but it’s a conversation i can't have with her just yet. life at 52 sure is throwing its challenges, and maybe it's just another lesson i'll look back on someday. but for now, anyone willing to share their two cents?

Its about my boyfriend. I dont want to talk bad about them because they're dealing with some stuff mentally and emotionally, mostly anxious problems. But I just hate hate it when I spend an hour waiting for him. I would be ok if the cafe was a one off thing but no. We've had multiple dates where I waited for him for an hour or almost an hour. Its not like I go on time sometimes, even I am late on the agreed time, mostly 5-10 minutes late because I really dont like making people wait for me. but when I get there he isn't there yet.

Its just... Once I managed to wait an hour on the mall we agreed to go to, walk all the way to his home, its quite close maybe 10-15 minutes with the pace I was going, and wait for more time before I even saw him get out of his house hair wet from shower. I understand he also has chores but that was just ridiculous.

But since my parents dont really know about us.. I always had to be creative and set time that wont be too late or too early, reasoning it as me needing to buy something for school, so the time is even more needed to be followed if you get me. His parents also dont know so we usually agree on a set time the day before. Rarely we agree on hanging out on the same day but when we do ita usually atleast 3hrs before..

But really I should've known better after dating him for almost 3 years now. He's the type to be late even on our own graduation, he barely made it with his mom before his name was called.

What's more upsetting about the cafe this is that its currently summer, that means I don't even have that much excuses to go out because I dont have projects to buy supplies for or no study groups to go to. We had a meeting for our school's journalism club for some reason which was, although cancelled, was a good excuse to leave the house.

I just feel like I should be more understanding but it's really upsetting checking my phone every five minutes for a text that says he'd be late or something. Sometimes I even get worried he wont show up at all.

Soo.. I'm gonna be on my last yeah of hs this year. And the pressure is high.

So growing up i've been getting average and sometimes higher than average grades. In my country although 75 is considered passing in special science schools 85 is the passing grade, with 90 being the average and therefore the grade every student sought after including myself.

90-93 has been my consistent grades throughout elementary, my mother didn't really push me to study because as she said I was smart enough that I only need to listen to the lesson and be good to go. And it worked at first.

Entering Highschool I didn't really have to learn to study because well it was online and I just searched up the answers. By 9th grade when we had our first face2face I barely got 90. It didn't serve as a wakeup call, nore did 10 grade when I graduated with 91%. At senior high, in the first semester midterms, they gave us the grades we got. i got 88%.

Still passing I know, but my parents, my mother especially, started this whole thing.

For context my sister is in college, tuition is barley covered and my dad works his own business that isn't getting much customers. Although my sister got a scholarship that gives her free tuition, the school was too far my sister would have to live with my grandma. Which made my dad worry about her health, i don't really get the reason.

So now it's my responsibility to get a good scholarship. My parents are ok with sending me to that same school they didn't want my sister to go to because 'I can handle myself'. But still since my 88% I've been pressured to get better grades. After a shit ton of studying I got 92%in my first sem grade. With my second sem being 96%, mostly with the help of joining a contest which the training lasted the whole first half of the second semester's midterm, then a big dance contest against other schools that got me pulled out of class and me and the other dancers got a grade no lesser than the previous. So because I got 96 in my previous I also got 96 if you got what I mean.

Anyways I understand why my parents are stressing over college, sending two daughters would not be possible with my dad's income. But I kinda blame my dad for not sending my sister there.

Idk, im already looking through scholarships on different school, started studying now too. But i also dont like that I'm reminded everyday that if I dont get a good scholarship one of us would not be able to go to college at all. Suddenly I want to go to school agshahahhahah