Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 23

Vent. My mom's going on a diet to loose weigh (and She's becoming slightly obsessive and weird about It, but whatever. It's her choice and i'm assuming She made her research) i'm also overweight, probably around her same weight (90/95 kg) and she wanted me to follow her on this diet ( to which i said no. Multiple times.) and to install a calorie tracking app. (She says she didn't but i'm not deaf and i ain't dumb. She often changes her words last minute when She realizes She upsets someone) I didn't really have a way to answer since She was fast about It and i installed It to supporto her. But honestly I want nothing to do with this. I like to cook and i want to eat what i'm in the Mood for. Plus i'm honestly not in a good headspace for this. There's a lot going on right now. I'm overwhelmed and burntout from school. Really tired. Struggling with sleep and Hygiene and workload and productivity. I'm working on building a nice space for myself, forming good habits, taking care of myself and creating a routine to study and have good grades. Plus. It's a fact. I like to eat. I like to cook. And sometimes i'm so low, exhausted and stressed out that my comfort foods are the only thing keeping me together. I don't want to be unsupportive but i'm so tired of hearing her talk about this. She's been talking about non Stop for weeks. And i'm not headspace to try It or even listen to her anymore. I'm so done. But now i feel so evil for snapping at her.

so, the other day, my kids hit me with that classic line again: “dad, you’re overreacting!” honestly, it feels like a universal law in our household now. a simple mishap, like forgetting to take out the trash? suddenly, it's World War III in my living room. I swear, it’s like my reaction is some overblown sitcom scene, where I’m dramatic for no reason. I try to be chill, but something in me just snaps when I see their mess and the trash piling up. I mean, who wants to live in a pigsty, right?

last week, for example, I caught my youngest trying to microwave a sandwich. I’ll be straight-up with you, the thought of him making that decision just got my dad senses tingling. like, isn’t that a recipe for disaster? those moments when I see their creativity with food just make my heart race. I yelled out, “are you trying to give yourself food poisoning?” I heard the groans as soon as I caught that sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes—"dad, calm down, it’s just a sandwich!" but seriously, what if it gets burnt? or worse, they try to cook one of those fancy burnt cheese things; it’s like playing with fire! I need them to understand that safety first; it’s about survival too.

then there’s the time they thought it was a good idea to ride their bikes down that steep hill at the park. I mean, come on! the thought of them flying into traffic gave me heart palpitations. I yelled something like, “you’ll break a bone or worse!” and they rolled their eyes at me like I’m living in a different era. it’s almost like they think their dad is just an overly cautious, ridiculous figure to bicker with. I just want to protect them, I swear it’s not just me being dramatic. there’s a fine line between adventure and stupidity, right? how does anyone know where that line is when you have kids who think they're invincible?

one evening, we were watching a movie, and there was a jump scare that made me spill my popcorn everywhere. I went off on a mini-rant, like, “why do filmmakers feel the need to jolt us like that?” my kids laughed, of course. “dad, chill out! it’s just a movie!” it’s like I became the punchline in their comedy show. I’ll admit, I can tend to get a little carried away. yet, how can I not when it feels like everyone around me is playing games with my heart rate? still, I sometimes wonder if I really am overreacting; maybe I should loosen up a bit.

truthfully, I think there’s a straight-up imbalance between their carefree nature and my protective instincts. I want them to explore and be free, but man, do I sometimes feel like a sitcom dad on the verge of a nervous breakdown. am I really overreacting, or do I just have an overabundance of caution that keeps shocking them? I thought being a parent would come with a manual or something. every day is this unique challenge, and I really gotta ask myself—what's wrong with them acting like my reactions are just part of their teenage amusement? it’s a real conundrum; should I embrace the chaos or keep pushing back, expecting them to listen?

Myself 35F and my husband 36M have been wanting to start a family for a while now. A things initially put us off such as space and family drama. As well as some conditions 35F has.

We decided this was something we have to try been referred to - specialist for these going through tests and realise that we are told we only have months try before going to possibly do IVF.

We are keeping this private. But some of the family isn’t supportive they have to try or won’t know.

A family member has a big birthday coming up and they want to book something but we have told them that we can’t commit as we also have another big family birthday that weekend and that their night be more people to consider it a little one if possible. Am I over reacting given that the birthday is 10 months away and we have been given less than thst to start a family? What do people always have to book so far in advance and we keep getting pushed for an answer. I really want a baby and to be pregnant but I am wondering if k am putting too much pressure on it and myself. Especially if we do have a baby it will be hard to travel.

Not sure they underpants that or willing to give us space. I feel very on edge about it all. As I want it so much. Thoughts?

it’s been three months since she told me it was over, and I honestly thought I would be better by now. you know, like the typical advice you see everywhere? “time heals all wounds” and “you’ll find someone better”? I guess I've just come to terms with the fact that those phrases are easier said than lived. every day feels like I’m dragging a heavy anchor, and my mind constantly races back to the moments we shared. I can still picture her laughter, her smile, and the way she used to play with her hair while deep in thought. I often wonder if that’s just how life goes, one minute you're on top of the world and the next you’re stuck reminiscing about how things used to be. I’ve tried to distract myself with friends or hobbies, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall that keeps me from truly engaging; some people say that it’s all about perspective while others might argue it's more about acceptance, but I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, caught in a labyrinth of my own emotions.

as I navigate through this post-breakup haze, I’ve read a lot about the psychological phenomena related to breakups—terms like the ‘attachment theory’ and ‘emotional dependency’ come to mind. they make sense in a clinical way, but experiencing them firsthand is a different beast altogether. I mean, how does someone just move on as if nothing happened? it’s as though they possess an emotional GPS that guides them toward greener pastures while I'm still in this perpetual state of searching for a signal. some days, my phone buzzes with messages from friends suggesting new activities or meetups, but I find myself declining more often than not—it's like I'm afraid that any bit of joy I could feel would pale in comparison to the happiness we once had, which is a weird kind of self-sabotage. I often find myself analyzing my past interactions, wondering if it was something I said or did that spiraled us into this situation—was I too clingy, too distant, or did I just not pick up on the subtle signs of her impending discontent?

I’m here questioning the timeline of recovery for breakups, and how long does it actually take to get over someone? I wish I had a definitive answer rather than these endless Google searches leading nowhere. some say it takes the same time as the relationship lasted, while others suggest that it’s all individual; but I have to admit, still feeling heartache after three months feels like I’m lagging behind in a race where everyone else has already crossed the finish line. there are moments I catch myself daydreaming about what could have been, or I find myself scrolling through old pictures of us smiling, but instead of fueling healing, they only deepen my sorrow. maybe I’m just a romantic at heart or maybe I’ve built an idealized version of what we had, but the reality is, I'm struggling. I’ve learned that time does play a critical role in healing, yet it’s also about self-acceptance and allowing yourself to feel all the emotions that come with loss. sometimes I find solace in journaling my thoughts, like I'm laying the baggage down little by little. any tips on how to let go would be appreciated; even a friendly reminder to keep pushing forward would go a long way. 🥺

I'm currently at work. I do research for a travel provider in my local area. Today I was interviewing passengers on the metro system but before I can start, I have to count all the passengers that come through my assigned door. I was mid-count when one of our ticket inspectors told me to move for a disabled passenger because I was standing in the wheelchair area absentmindedly. She pulled a face and gave me dirty looks for the remainder of her time on the metro and was doing the same when she got off. It wasn't a major issue and I moved immediately because I was in the way but her tone and glaring made me so angry. I wanted to scream at her and hit something. I just wanted to explode and it was completely out of proportion. Then on the same trip we had a fare dodger who refused to leave when he was caught. The team members let him stay on the metro despite travelling without a valid fare. I was mad at the staff for giving up so easily but I just wanted to attack the dodger. I'm a fair large person and all I could picture in my head was repeatedly kicking this man in the head. Again, irrational anger. The staff are not obligated to remove fare dodgers when they get aggressive, which he was. And wanting to beat a man to death for being a cheap, scumbag is excessive. But I keep having these thoughts of disproportionate rage whenever a situation arises. I regularly fantasize about murdering my neighbour after he threatened me a year ago. What the hell is wrong with me?

So here I am, 23 years old, sitting on my couch at 6 AM, scrolling through my phone like the rest of the world, and I can’t help but wonder if doing some morning yoga could actually help me chill out a bit, you know? Work has been an absolute circus lately—endless deadlines, demanding bosses, and that annoying coworker who “just loves to chat” while I’m trying to concentrate! Ugh! On top of that, my home life isn't exactly a zen garden either. It’s like a tornado of chores, family drama, and oh, let’s not forget the never-ending battle with my own mental health; I don’t need to tell you how exhausting that can be. Someone once said, “When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others.” Is that true? Because at this point, I’d just like to be at peace without screaming at the top of my lungs. I keep hearing about how morning yoga is supposed to be this miracle cure-all for stress, but honestly, I can’t get over my own skepticism. I mean, sure, there’s something appealing about stretching out my tight muscles, especially when I’ve been hunched over my laptop for way too long—but will it really help? Every time I think about it, I picture myself in a yoga class, all zen and serene, looking like a complete novice! Have you seen how those yoga influencers contort themselves? Like, what even is that? And let’s not forget the smell of essential oils—it’s either heavenly or a total headache! I can just imagine showing up with my “I do yoga” sweatpants and completely whiffing a pose. People in the room would probably roll their eyes at me. “Girl, just breathe,” they’d probably whisper while I’m over there struggling to keep my balance. Yet, I feel like I should give it a try. Couldn’t I use a bit of that whole “namaste” vibe in my chaotic life? But then I wonder: could I actually commit to doing it regularly? I’m already 10 minutes late to everything, and adding a morning yoga routine to my schedule seems like a tall order, doesn’t it? I could see it now: me, madly trying to fit in downward dog before I rush out the door, only to be late again because I lost track of time trying to “find my center.” Lo and behold, my chaotic mornings would just get more chaotic! Would it really set a positive tone for the rest of my day, or just make me more irritable when I can’t get everything done in time? So many questions! I could just start with simple stretches at home—maybe throw on a YouTube video and pretend I know what I'm doing, right? They say even a few minutes of mindfulness can lead to better stress management; just breathe and focus, they say. But I find it hard to relax when my mind races with a thousand thoughts about what I didn’t do and what I still need to do. Like, why is life such a juggling act? Is it too much to ask for a little bit of balance? Probably, because let’s face it: my life has been more of a tightrope walk than a yoga class! I can't even tell you how often I've tried to squeeze in self-care, and yet, here I am, still feeling wound up like a string on a bow. But, as I delve more into this whole yoga idea, there's this nagging voice in my head pushing me to try something new, you know? "Step out of your comfort zone," it whispers. Maybe I really could use some calm in my mornings, even if I end up looking ridiculous and flailing about as my cat watches on, probably judging me, has anyone ever felt that? For some weird reason, I feel like I owe it to myself to at least give morning yoga a shot; who knows, it might even make me a better person at work and home. Plus, wouldn't it be awesome to actually have a chill start to the day instead of bursting out the door like a caffeinated squirrel? I'm still on the fence about it—do I really want to give it a go, or just keep watching random memes on my phone until the last second? Maybe if I push myself to get up a lil' early? I mean, the thought of being able to say I do yoga does sound kind of badass. And hey, I’m all about trying to make my chaotic life feel a little less chaotic; is it crazy to think that morning yoga might just hold the answer I've been looking for? Anyone out there make it work in their routine? I need help deciding here; should I take the plunge and roll out a mat, or keep dreaming of that blissful morning peace while I slip back into the chaos that is my reality?

Myself and my husband have been waiting for a new build house and currently living with my father.

One of the items we discussed getting was a tumble dryer for the house. Given that the flat I have just sold had some damp issues (but not major ones) we bought a heater dryer and we also had a combo washer dryer. (The dryer we hardly used because it had no temperature control and liked to melt things)

So we have discussed getting a tinkle dryer so that we don’t have the same issues in a brand new home. Plus this is so much water that goes into building a new home we have been told to let it breathe for 2 years after building and purchase. Plus we l won’t have radiators downstairs as we will have under floor heating and an air source heat pump.

So no damp clothes lying around. My mother in law (MIL) is very anti tumble dryers because I quote they are a waste of money and I didn’t have one and don’t have one blanket, so you don’t need one. To be fair she had 4 kids is retired bookkeeper and myFIL had a tight grip on the finances.

My husband and I are going to get one and last time I saw her I told her that we weren’t asking her for the money towards it in lieu of presents for birthdays and Christmas. That I don’t need her approval to get one that we could afford one that over selves. Last time I saw her, when I told her this she got up in my face and was quite agressive. I told my husband who did say the reasons why we wanted one as well that next time she brings the house up that he needed to with her.

We are due to see them after a while (they have been away) at the weekend and I am feeling a bit apprehension about it.

All the while we are also a trying to start a family and it’s just a bit much. I think I might snap if she says anything and I don’t want to be mean. But it’s not her decision or her house or her life. We are trying for a family and haven’t told many people.

Okay, so like, why does everyone hate me? Seriously, I don’t get it! I mean, I try to just vibe and be chill, but whenever I walk into a room, everyone looks at me like I’ve got three heads or something. It’s NOT cool, honestly! The other day in class, I said something about how I thought the cafeteria pizza was, like, gourmet or whatever, and everyone burst out laughing. I totally didn’t mean to sound like an idiot—but hey, who doesn’t love cheesy carbs?! They went on about how I’m delusional or whatever and even my so-called friends were laughing too. Not a single person backed me up. Totally feels like being a ghost in my own life. I mean, I heard one popular girl whisper, “Ugh, she thinks she’s so funny,” right in front of me. Like, what’s up with that? Can’t we just have a little fun without being judged? This one time, I was just chillin’ on my phone, and this dude walked up to me and asked if I was looking for a friend; I didn’t know if that was a compliment or shade? It’s exhausting, man! I just don’t understand how these people can be so cruel over nothing! Why can’t we just be nice to each other? If you think I’m weird, just say it, don't make it a group thing; people suck!

But then, like, I was scrolling through TikTok, right? And I saw this girl talking about how people hated her too, and she said, “Their opinions don’t matter, just live your best life!” Suddenly, I felt inspired. Like, maybe it’s not me, maybe it’s them! I mean, who died and made them the rulers of the universe? I’m just here trying to get through high school with a decent GPA and maybe have a little fun. So what if I wear funky clothes and like quirky movies? We all have our own vibes, right? Besides, I CAN'T be the only one who feels this way; like, lets be real! I can tell the popular crowd is so fake anyway, just pretending to be perfect and sipping their iced coffees. I think it’s hilarious when they trip up and act like total dorks—maybe we all need a bit of awkwardness, huh? So maybe instead of focusing on the haters, I’ll just be true to myself and own it! Who cares if they think I'm lame? I’d rather be lame and happy than cool and miserable! And hey, if anyone else feels like I do, let’s band together and form our own crew of misfits! We’ll be the ones who actually have fun instead of worrying about stupid opinions; life’s too short to be worried about what others think, right?

I'm a minor who is a trans man. A few months ago I came out to my parents as trans but my dad has acted like nothing happened and my Mom tells me it's a phase and asks me why I would decide this horrid future for myself even though I didn't choose it. I wish I could say she wasn't supporting but she is, she is very open about trans rights but when it comes to me I feel like my identity is just a funny joke to her or me "rebelling". I hate myself. She hates me, not her. I took away her little girl and I wish I hadn't. What do I do?

Me and my now ex boyfriend are in a weird situationship thing. He’s treated me better than how we were in our relationship. But he’s been talking to me about doing OF and I’ve been feeling so jealous. Before you say anything, I’m fully aware that I can’t control him and he’s his own person. But it’s hard when you have such strong feelings for someone and they do certain things that just strike you the wrong way. It hurts but I don’t necessarily have any right to say anything to him about and I can’t make him not do it. It really sucks.

I'm just at the absolute end of myself. Now I believe and follow God, but "giving it to God" feels a lot like sitting here doing nothing. I'm a single mother (1 kid) in my late 20's, working a burned out 9-5, desperate for supporting my roles as a mother, friend, and individual. My job is a blessing in the sense that I can bring my kid to work, attend field trips, all the sorts, but it's always at the expense of my paycheck. And that paycheck is very important because even though I only make ~$20,000/year, I've accomplished homeownership (first generation homeowner), a Christian school for my kid, a paid off hunk of junk car, and only about $3,000 worth of debt (not including the mortgage obviously). Of course I'm on subsidy, but we don't abuse the system nor do we live luxuriously. I made a $175/month grocery allowance work but it's now been cut back to $23/month. I feel successful despite my circumstances, but man.. I'm tired of just "beating the odds", "overcoming the statistics". I want not more, but better. I want to start cleaning houses, but start up for materials is out of reach and I've had 6 surgeries since 2019, my body is wrecked. I'd push through it though if it meant I could afford my bills and still meet friends at the park at 2pm on a Tuesday. I'm very handy, but I'm more Jack of all trades, master of none. I built my own shoe racks and fix my own car, but I can't diagnose or blueprint. I don't have my own tools. I'm washing my hair with dish soap to make sure my kid has their ends met. I have no family where I live, and while I do have friends, why should I expect them to hear the burden of my predicament? For me, venting=asking them to fix the problem. And the problem feels unfixable. And that leaves me clinging to the fact that God is bigger than these problems. He's bigger, but I still feel like I'm being suffocated. I don't want a bigger house or a newer car. I buy almost everything from second hand stores. I just want to be a mother and a friend, and have a job that will leave me confident in my ability to pay bills.

I find myself in a unique position that I can't quite put my finger on. At 23, I feel like I should have a better grasp on what my relationships are supposed to look like, yet here I am, questioning whether I’m in a queerplatonic relationship or something that defies categorization altogether. It’s complicated when the emotional bonds of friendship start feeling very much like partnership, yet the labels we’ve been given don’t seem to fit. You know that feeling when you have a deep connection with someone, where the lines between friendship and romance are so blurred that you’re left wondering if you should just throw caution to the wind and embrace whatever this is or if you need to examine it more critically?

I mean, we spend nearly all of our time together—cooking dinners, binge-watching shows, even having those deep midnight conversations that last for hours. There's a comfort level that’s reminiscent of a long-term romantic relationship, but we never actually call ourselves a couple. We’ve both made it clear that we don’t want to label our relationship in typical terms, but the nature of our bond seems to challenge the boundary between friendship and a queerplatonic relationship. At times, it feels like we’re almost like partners in crime; the way we support each other emotionally feels heavy with significance. But when I look for definitions to cling to, I often question if what we have is actually queerplatonic. Does it have to fit into a convenient box, or can it simply exist outside of labels?

When we’re navigating the world together, I notice how we interact with other people. Friends often ask if we’re a couple because we do share physical affection, like holding hands or hugging, which typically imply romance. They exchange glances that seem to suggest I should either embrace this label or clarify my feelings. In these moments, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious. Are we doing something wrong by not defining ourselves as a couple? Or is there a possibility that this unusual connection is valid just on its own, and it doesn’t need to conform to societal expectations? There's so much unexpected joy in our relationship that questions whether I should just lean into the ambiguity; I often vacillate between wanting to clarify and remaining in this emotionally rich, undefined space.

Navigating these waters becomes even murkier when it comes to communicating about our feelings. We touch upon it sometimes, but genuine discussions about what we’re feeling and whether we want to label our relationship always seem to get sidestepped. I’m left wondering if it’s fear that holds us back, perhaps a fear of disrupting the beautiful rhythm we have established. Or maybe it's the excitement of being in something unique that keeps us from placing a set name on it, feeling that labeling it could somehow dilute what’s special. So, I ask you: when it comes to relationships that are this complicated—where do you draw the line? Are we too hesitant to discuss the nature of our bond, or is there wisdom in letting it float in this undefined space where love, affection, and friendship coexist harmoniously? I’m truly curious to hear what others think about my situation;

I’m 14 and I didn’t really have a good past because of my mother, and the past couple months now I have noticed a lot of changes about myself mentally. If I’m out of the house for too long like at stores or restaurants, I’ll just panic and I don’t understand why, It becomes hard to talk and usually I’ll just say “home”. Last year me and my family went to a huge festival, I panicked and we had to sit down for a while, I would stop panicking but it would start up again randomly and I just couldn’t control it. My grandma and grandpa took me to the car and I calmed down while my dad and my sister were still out for about 15 minutes before we left. They kept bringing it up and said it was an “inconvenience”. Often times if I feel a texture I don’t like, it feels weird like I have to shake it off my hands or I just sit there with my hands out and go like “ah” or “eugh”, my grandma as recognized it and will give me a napkin for my hands or just move us away from where the material was. Sometimes I get in this headspace where I feel like mentally around the ages of 6-10. I never really got to have a childhood, my dad said it was good before him and my mom got divorced but I don’t remember it and I only remember the bad stuff. I want to know what’s wrong with me but when I asked my therapist she said it was just a phase but I cried to her about it months ago (she is no longer my therapist for other reasons). I feel like I’m this way because I was forced to grow up too fast, I mean I was taking care of a baby (my little sister) when I was 5. My mom was selling my toys and Christmas presents for drugs.

When I get really interested in something like a video game, I talk very passionately about it and sometimes I get a little loud when I talk but I don’t notice it. My dad always gets mad at me and I try to stay quieter. I almost always tell my grandma about all my interests and crafts because she is the only one who actually listens. Today I went to talk to her about the craft I wanted to do for my Halloween costume this year. I was in debate between doing a barn owl or a deer kinda cosplay. I was in the middle of saying how I thought the deer one would be harder and how I really wanted to do the owl, but she didn’t let me talk and just kept saying “the owl sounds too hard, you should do the deer”. I kept asking her to let me explain and she was like “well the owl just seems too hard for you”. At that point I just went back upstairs to my room and cried. My dad doesn’t let me tell him about my interests because I talk too much and he wants the short story,now he doesn’t want to hear it at all. My little sister is spoiled rotten by my dad and just doesn’t let me talk, then she gets mad at me when I get mad at her because she keeps interrupting me.

I just want to know what’s wrong with me

As I sit here reflecting on my life, I cannot help but confront the pervasive sensations of existential dread that have accompanied me throughout my existence. Being 31 years old, a male navigating the complexities of adulthood, has brought forth a cavalcade of thoughts that often orbit around philosophical quandaries and abstract concepts that seem to hold me in a vice-like grip, compelling me to analyze every facet of my reality, both past and present. In a world where the mundane often shrouds the profound, I find myself ensnared in an endless loop of ruminations, particularly those that provoke anxiety surrounding my own existence, the nature of reality, and the elusive meaning of life itself. For instance, I was recently walking in the park—a typical Saturday outing to decompress after a taxing week—when I stumbled upon a seemingly innocuous tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, yet my thoughts spiraled into an intricate analysis of its existence: Was this tree merely a transient anomaly in the grand scheme of the universe, serving no greater purpose than aesthetic pleasure for the passerby? Or did it embody an essential piece of a larger cosmic puzzle, contributing to the ecological systems that sustain life on Earth? These dilemmas circulate in my mind like a hamster on a wheel, never quite yielding the clarity I so desperately seek. Coupled with these musings are the persistent obsessions that arise from my experience with OCD, a condition that amplifies my tendencies toward overthinking everything that might seem trivial to another—like the cycle of life and death, the inevitability of decay, and, perhaps most dauntingly, the question of whether I am truly living authentically or merely going through the motions dictated by societal expectations. I often wonder whether others grapple with similar sentiments; might they find themselves staring into the abyss of their own thoughts, lost in contemplation about the purpose of their existence? During one particularly trying episode, I recall sitting at a café, attempting to savor my espresso while the cacophony of voices around me morphed into a philosophical dialogue of its own, leading me to ponder the vastness of the universe and my infinitesimal, seemingly inconsequential role within it. Is it possible that I am just another fleeting consciousness amidst an unforgiving cosmos, merely existing rather than truly living? Yet, while these thoughts may initially seem daunting, I have come to realize that acknowledging such existential questions can catalyze growth and introspection. I have learned that challenging oneself to navigate through these labyrinthine thoughts can lead to an enriched understanding of my own beliefs and values, often prompting me to realign my priorities and appreciate the sheer beauty of fleeting moments—like the laughter of a friend or a stunning sunrise illuminating the horizon. Amidst this internal chaos, I find solace in the notion that there is something inherently human about grappling with uncertainty and the quest for meaning; it binds us together as we navigate a shared experience defined by our complexities. As I confront my existential OCD, I recognize the potential beauty in vulnerability, for it carries the promise of connection and growth. Whether through conversations with friends or moments of solitude, I have discovered that vulnerability can engender resilience, allowing us to confront our deepest fears and emerge stronger, even amid uncertainty. Thus, I encourage you, dear reader, to embrace the electromagnetic spectrum of emotions and thoughts that accompany the human experience; perhaps you, too, can take a moment to reflect on what it means to exist in a world that often feels overwhelmingly vast. In doing so, we might find ourselves embarking on a journey toward understanding and acceptance, realizing that even in the face of existential quandaries, there is hope and beauty to be found. In a strange way, is it not this very struggle that lends color and meaning to our lives, offering us the opportunity to define our own significance in this unpredictable adventure we call life?

hey y'all! I'm signing off for the summer! (we have to turn in our computers) so I will see you guys later!!!!!!! cant wait to tell more crazy stories!