Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 32

I'm questioning my worthiness for this position. The thought keeps surfacing that my appointment might have been due to a lack of preferred internal connections for others. What am I supposed to make of these feelings?"

I was so young at the time we dated I was only 12 when we dated. He was 16 at the time and God it was awful..looking back into that I was in a awful relationship. I'm now 16 and I regret everything I was ruined like I became so obsessive and it hurt me so bad I tried to harm myself. he was nice sometimes but he was my first love and I thought it was so real even if it was online. I dated him for maybe until I was 13 and through those years he tried to commit in front of me on call and even stabbed his side of his waist and made me watch him bleed until he finally went to the hospital. he told me it was okay to do things on camera and to make myself bleed and sick. he cheated on me and would buy me things and make me feel so hurt inside. once my parents found out and made me leave all socials and stop talking but of course I found my way back to him when I was 14 and dated him until I was 15 and a half but it was too late. it was weird that day I spoke to him he was all happy and was saying all different things than what he normally said, he lived close to me state wise so he also mentioned he was finally going to let go and see me if I followed his footsteps and I was so confused. that same week I was shattered because it was just all over at the age of 15 I was getting calls from his family saying he was dead and a call from the police apologizing. I was completely ruined and heartbroken but now that I look back on it I shouldve never gotten with him over and over but I was young.

(DISCLAMER I DONT MAKE SENSE BUT I AM JUST RAMBALING)

*This is a REAL story and it involves more drama so if you are only here for the dirty details this one probably isn’t for you*

So, I used to be friends with this guy at university. His name was Amir. Until the lat year of university we used to be pretty close friends. I was a smart student, but a little bit lazy, I used to use this app to auto reference my assignments and I ended up sharing the app with Amir to help us out a little bit.

However, I ended up getting caught and one of the main lectures threatened to kick me off the course unless she told me what the app was and where I found it. I ended up blaming Amir and telling my lecturers it was him who introduced it to me. Which obviously resulted in him being kicked off the course. It was him or me!

Obviously, that didn’t really go down with Amir too well. Himself and his whole family began to threaten me and Amir would send me tons of messages until I ended up blocking him. I remember the last message he sent me was saying he would get revenge on me someday…turns out he was right.

Fast forward to today, my girlfriend Holly recently cheated on me for the first time and guess who the other guy was? Yep. AMIR. I couldn’t believe it at the time and I was insanely shocked.

How on earth does this even happen? Me and Holly got into a stupid heated argument the same night she cheated on me. She ends up bumping into Amir at this wedding party and obviously he thought this was the best time to get revenge. Holly all alone and vulnerable.

Amir and Holly used to be friends as well and she wasn’t even aware of our ‘beef’ Amir ended up telling her and she couldn’t believe it. She instantly phoned me asking me if it were true and I was just worried about her being around Amir and I told her to avoid him and go home.

What happens next? Holly puts down the phone and I tried calling her back numerous times…nothing. I end up getting a message request on Facebook from Amir and I couldn’t witness my eyes. He sent me a photo of Holly sucking his cock!

I was in disbelief. He was finally taking his revenge and using my girlfriend mouth for it. It couldn’t have gone any better for him. I was just picturing how he must have been feeling. Having my gorgeous girlfriend suck his cock as he took his revenge. Moments later another photo appeared and it was Holly’s tits completely smothered in cum. It was over.

Lesson taken from this - don’t make enemies who are confident they’ll get even on you someday. Amir surely did.

i’ve been asking myself that question every single day since she left. how do you get over someone who didn’t break your heart with cruelty, but just… left? it’s been a few months now, and still, every morning i wake up hoping there’s a message from her, knowing there won’t be. she didn’t leave me because she stopped loving me—we never even had a real “ending.” she moved across the world for work, for family, for life, and i was left behind with all these feelings and nowhere to put them. i still remember the last time i saw her at the airport, tryin to be strong, pretending like it wasn’t the last time i’d see her for god knows how long. i smiled through it, kissed her cheek, told her i understood. but deep inside, it shattered me. we weren’t even official, not in the way people usually mean it, but i loved her. i really loved her. in that all-consuming, soft, terrifying way that makes your chest ache in the best and worst ways. and now she’s just... gone. in another time zone, living a life i’m not part of, and i don’t know how to move forward when a piece of me is still with her.

everyone says the usual things—“time heals,” “stay busy,” “you’ll meet someone else”—but none of it helps when all i want is her. i’ve tried. i’ve gone out, talked to new people, thrown myself into work, started hobbies i don’t care about just to keep my mind occupied. but nothing sticks. she’s still there, in every quiet moment. in songs i used to play for her, in cafés that remind me of our favorite spot, in the way i still sleep on one side of the bed. and maybe the hardest part is that i can’t even be angry. i can't hate her for leaving. she did what she had to do. but where does that leave me? stuck in this limbo where i keep pretending i'm okay when i'm not. people around me think i’ve moved on cause i smile and laugh and say “i’m fine,” but they don’t see me at night, lying awake wondering if she still thinks about me too. or if i was just a small chapter in her story while she became a whole book in mine. i miss her in ways i can’t even explain. not just her voice or her touch, but the feeling of being seen, really seen. she got me in a way no one ever has. and maybe that’s what makes it so hard—how do you get over someone who felt like home? maybe the truth is, you don’t really “get over” them. maybe you just learn to live around the ache, to make space for the memory without letting it swallow you whole. but right now? it still hurts. and i don’t know when it’ll stop.

i dont get it. like fr why everyone in my family gotta be so mean to me all the time?? i aint even do nothin and still they act like im the worst person in the house. my mom always yellin, my dad dont even look at me half the time, and my brother’s just rude for no reason. i wake up and its already attitude from the second i walk in the kitchen. like, if i ask for something simple like if theres any cereal left, my mom's like “go look yourself” with that tone like she already mad at me for just breathing. why they always act like im the problm?? i swear i try to stay outta the way, i stay in my room most days just chillin or listenin to music but still when i come out its like instant drama.

i be helpin around the house too. i clean my room, i do the dishes even when its not my turn, nd still they find sumthin to complain about. if i put the spoon in the wrong drawer, its like the end of the world or somethin. my dad once told me “you cant do anything right” just cause i forgot to take out the trash one night. like fr?? ONE night. nd he talk to me like i failed at life or sumthin. my brother, don’t even get me started, he be callin me names every chance he gets. annoying, stupid, crybaby... nd my parents don’t say nothing. they just laugh like its funny. well it aint.

sometimes i think maybe i was adopted or somethin, like how else do u explain it? they all so close with each other. laughin at the table, goin out places without me, sharin inside jokes. nd im just... there. invisible. or worse, the target. i tried to ask my mom once, like, why yall always treat me like im the enemy? nd she said “stop makin everything about you.” like, bruh, i only asked cause im tired of feelin like trash in my own house. is that too much?? to want to feel loved in ur own damn family?

school aint much better but at least there, some ppl smile at me. even if they fake, at least they fake nice. at home, i get nothin. no hugs, no “how was ur day,” not even a “good night.” just silence or sarcasm. nd if i say anything back, they say im disrespectful. like sorry for having feelings i guess?? they make me feel like im a burdden. like they’d be better off without me there. nd sometimes, late at night, i start thinkin maybe they're right. maybe i am the problem and dont even kno it. maybe im just broken in some way that makes ppl not wanna be around me.

but then i remember, im just a kid. im only 15. i didnt ask to be here, i didnt choose this family. nd i shouldnt have to beg for basic kindness. im not askin for them to buy me stuff or give me everything i want. i just want respect. some love. someone to say “i see you” instead of makin me feel like a ghost. if i ever become a mom, i swear imma treat my kids like they matter. i wont let them go to bed feelin unloved like i do most nights. i want to break whatever this is, this cycle of meaness that they think is normal.

i dont even kno what to do anymore. talkin dont work, cryin dont help, stayin silent just makes them act like nothin’s wrong. maybe one day i’ll move out and things’ll change. maybe they’ll miss me when im gone. or maybe they wont. maybe they’ll just keep goin like i was never there. all i kno is, i can’t keep holdin all this in forever. it hurts too much. nd im tired of pretendin it dont. so if ur readin this n u ever felt the same way, like ur own family don't even like u... ur not alone. i feel it too. every day. every damn day.

It's 8 am right now and in a few hours i have a physics test i'm not prepared for and now i'm panicking. I've been trying to study for it for ages but there have been some many last minute problems and that I haven't made It. Yesterday my whole day got messed up and i had no time and so i tried to study during the night but i was so tired that I crashed and now i only have a few school hours before It. And i feel like an idiot because i know It's my fault, but i'm just so tired and there's just so much stuff to keep up with all at once i don't know what to do first. I'm so tired i don't want to this anymore, i don't want to do anything, i just want to sleep for the rest of my life.

I have friends in high school but I don't talk to them much because I'm shy, my interests are much different from theirs, and I'm scared to open up to them. Literally every kid in class has met each other outside of school, I'm the only one who hasn't hung out with any of them outside of school cause my home is so far from most of theirs. My friends also know each other more and are much closer with each other than I am with them. I don't even think I've ever had an actual best friend. Plus my school is so freaking tiny so the chances of meeting someone who I truly vibe with is 0%, unless a new kid joins our class with is highly unlikely. I just feel so lonely.

first of all, sorry if I have any grammar or vocabulary errors, English is not my first language.

so, I (f, 17) have had this friend (m,18) for almost 6 years, I shared everything with him and loved him with all my heart.

we met because he had a crush on me, but he moved forward in a few months. He was very sweet at first, and it was so nice to talk about anything with him. also, he always had depressio, and I've always been there for him, honestly.

when he got a girlfriend we lost contact a little, because she was kind of jealous, and I understood it perfectly bc I didn't want to make things weird for anyone. we still talked tho, but only about serious problems and not a lot.

when they broke up two years later me and my friend got closer again because he needed a friend to talk to. I helped him with what I could, but soon I started to have feelings for him. I didnt told him bc I didn't want to ruin our friendship bc I loved him so much in that way, so I tried to wait for those feelings to pass, but they didn't.

still, I didn't do anything about it, I knew he didn't saw me the same way, and also he was going through a thought breakup.

one day I invited him and my other bestie over bc there was a concert at my stepdad town. there was two beds for us, so my other bestie (girl and in a relationship) and I were supposed to sleep together and he was supposed to sleep alone. he didnt. he slept between the two of us. he scooped in my direction and hugged me, then kissed me, and we ended up making love on the other bed. I confessed to him that night before doing anything because I was a lil drunk, and he told me he kind of felt something similar. the next day he told me he did not, and that he didn't want to do it again.

months passed by and we continued having sex, I still felt the same way and I always cried after because I felt really bad and kind of used. one that, I was told by my friends that they saw him kissing his ex, and I felt horrible bc he didn't told me. he apologized and I forgave him, but he kept lying about everything, so I started to get really mad at him because he always came to me with the only motivation of affection and when he felt alone or had nothing else to do.

he always said sorry, and always did the same. I got really tired and demanded the respect I deserve, and told him that he never helped me when I needed him (which is true bc when I had 13 or smth I had no friends but him, I told him and asked him to spend more time together and he told me to get more friends).

and he got tired of me demanding that respect, so he started drifting away instead of trying to fix our friendship.

last week, I begged him to fix this, but he did not want to bc he has other friends now (that's literally what he told me) and bc Im always sad (remember he has depression, he recently almost had an attempt that I myself stopped)

his new bestie (f,18) is such a bad friend with her girlfriends, they personally told me, bc she always makes fun of them for male attention. and I told my friend this, and told him I was jealous bc she's so pretty and fun, but also she's a bad person and he should know it. and he said he already knew, but it is fine with him.

im devastated, bc I did everything I could to keep him by my side and cared for him all this time, and I don't understand what I lack. im so mad at him. and her. im so so soooo sad and mad. I wish I knew what he wanted me to do to be perfect for him. and now he's gone. I´ll love him all my life and he always told me he will too. but he doesn't even care a little about me. idk, im just so heartbroken.

thank you for reading <3 hope u have a wonderful day/sleep well

I never had a full grip on what I want to do with my life, but its gotten even worse recently. My tablemates at lunch aren't going to the same school I am next year, and its hard to find anyone who 1. even supports queer people such as myself and 2. shares a common interest with me. my old tablemates hate my guts (maybe for disliking genshin due to it being problematic, but idk) and even after high school, I'm completely lost. the only thing I really am passionate about is freelance art and animation, and its hard to find a job that lets me do that on my own. plus my grades aren't getting any better, and I might not even graduate. I hate being stuck so fucking much. trump is NOT helping btw, I cant even transition when I turn 18 anymore, nor can I serve in the military like I wanted.

so I have anemia, or low iron. When you have this, your fingernails turn like whitish as does the inside of your bottom eyelid.

And it also comes with splitting stomach pain.

We have iron supplements at my house, since my dad, sister, and mom are all anemic too, but I can't remember to take them daily, and even when I do, they don't help much if I can't get enough iron in my everyday diet. It's a pain in my stomach, literally,

Randomly, when I'm overexerting myself or even sometimes when I just breathe a bit too deep or too shallow, I have to double over and just stay still for a minute because it's the only thing that helps against the pain.It makes it hard to do anything. PE, Marching Band, everything.

Thing is, I don't know whether I should go to the school nurse. I'm biologically female, so I'm afraid they'll push it off as period cramps.

What should I do?

It’s the worst feeling ever, loving someone who will never be yours. I never thought I’d be that girl, y’know? The one who falls for the wrong person, the one she can’t be with. But here I am, waking up every morning with him on my mind, going to bed hoping maybe tomorrow he’ll look at me the way I look at him.

He’s not mine. He never was. And maybe that’s what makes it all worse. There was no breakup, no real moment where things ended, because they never started. So I don’t even get the closure people talk about. All I have is this ache inside me, and the constant “what if” that haunts me like a shadow.

What if I told him? Would anything change? Would he laugh, or would he just smile politely and let me down easy? Or maybe he’d tell me he feels the same, but the timing’s wrong. That would almost be worse—knowing he could’ve loved me if life wasn’t so complicated.

Sometimes I ask myself if I’m just being dramatic. I mean, I’m seventeen. People will say “you’ll love again,” or “this is just your first heartbreak,” like that makes it easier. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like my heart’s been stitched together with weak thread and every thought of him pulls it apart a little more.

Is it wrong to still want to see him even though it hurts? When I know every time I hear his voice or see his name pop up on my phone, it’ll mess me up for the rest of the day? Like I’m setting myself up for pain on purpose. But I can’t help it. I’d rather feel something than feel nothing at all.

He’s so close but so far. In the same school, the same circle, sometimes even the same room. But emotionally? We’re on two different planets. He talks to me, yeah, but it’s casual. Friendly. And I sit there smiling, nodding, pretending like I’m not falling deeper into something that has no bottom.

Does he know? I wonder about that a lot. Is he clueless, or does he just not want to say anything? I try to read between the lines of every text, every look, every awkward silence. But maybe there’s nothing to read. Maybe I’m just making up a whole story in my head because it hurts less than facing the truth.

Am I not enough? That question has been eating me up inside lately. Like, maybe I’m not pretty enough or cool enough or confident enough. Maybe if I was different, he’d see me. Maybe if I wasn’t me, he could love me. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because I know I’m supposed to love myself first. But how do you love yourself when you feel invisible to the one person who matters most?

I’ve tried to move on. I really have. I’ve talked to other guys, gone out with friends, even deleted our old messages so I wouldn’t re-read them a million times. But nothing works. It’s like he’s burned into my memory, into my chest, into everything.

Will it always feel like this? Will I always look back at this time in my life and remember the ache, the longing, the almost-love that never happened? Or will he just become another blurry face in the crowd one day, and I’ll laugh at how hard I used to cry over someone who didn’t love me back?

Sometimes I feel like I’m being punished for caring too much. Like maybe I gave too much of myself away without realizing it, and now there’s not enough left for me.

I wish I could go back to before I felt this way. When love was just an idea and not a knife in my chest. When I didn’t overanalyze every word, every text delay, every emoji. When I wasn’t stuck in this loop of hope and disappointment.

Loving someone you can’t have is like living with a ghost. You see them, feel them, ache for them—but they’re not really there. And deep down, you know they never will be.

But here’s the thing—I don’t regret loving him. Not even a little. Because even though it hurts, it also taught me so much. About myself. About feelings. About the kind of love I want and deserve. And maybe that’s the first step to letting go.

Maybe one day, I’ll meet someone who looks at me the way I look at him. Someone who doesn’t make me question everything, someone who stays. Until then, I’ll let myself feel this, cry about it, write about it… and eventually, heal from it.

I’m 32, been married to Jake for eight years now, and I gotta say, things ain’t what they used to be, especially when it comes to sex with my husband. Back when we were dating, and even the first couple years of marriage, it was like we couldn’t keep our hands off each other—stolen kisses in the kitchen, sneaking off during family gatherings, the whole deal. But lately, it’s like I’m invisible to him. I catch myself staring in the mirror, poking at the extra softness around my belly, the stretch marks from carrying our two kids, the way my boobs don’t sit as perky as they did at 24. I feel like I’m not as attractive as I was, and it’s eating me up inside. Jake’s still handsome as ever—those broad shoulders, that easy smile—but he barely looks at me that way anymore. We’re lucky if we have sex once a month, and even then, it feels like he’s just going through the motions, like it’s a chore or something. I try to spice things up, you know? I bought this lacy red lingerie set last month, spent way too much on it, and when I slipped it on and walked into the bedroom, he barely glanced up from his phone. “You look nice,” he mumbled, then went right back to scrolling. Nice? Nice is what you say about a new throw pillow, not your wife trying to seduce you. I felt so stupid standing there, like some desperate teenager. I don’t know if it’s me, if I’ve let myself go too much, or if he’s just not into me anymore. I mean, I’m not the same size 6 I was when we met, but I’m not a slob either—I work out when I can, chase our kids around all day, keep the house together. Still, I can’t shake this feeling that he’s comparing me to who I used to be, or worse, to other women. I’ve seen the way he lingers on Instagram models or those stupid ads that pop up, all flawless skin and tiny waists. It’s not like he’s cheating, at least I don’t think so, but it’s like he’s checked out. I’ve tried talking to him, dropping hints, even straight-up asking what’s wrong, but he just shrugs and says he’s tired or stressed from work. And yeah, I get it, his job’s demanding, and we’re both exhausted with a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old running us ragged, but shouldn’t we still want each other? I miss that spark, that heat we used to have, when he’d look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Now, when we do have sex, it’s so… mechanical. No foreplay, no passion, just quick and done. I’m left lying there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what happened to us. I’ve read articles, listened to podcasts, even bought one of those “rekindle your marriage” books, but it’s hard to fix something when only one of you seems to care. I’ve tried initiating, but getting rejected—or worse, that pitying “okay, fine” vibe—hurts worse than not trying at all. I wonder if he’s bored, or if he’s got some secret resentment he’s not telling me about. Maybe it’s not even about me—maybe he’s struggling with something he won’t share. I know men can have their own issues, like low testosterone or stress, but he won’t talk about it, won’t see a doctor, nothing. I’m scared to push too hard and make it worse, but I’m also scared of what happens if we keep drifting like this. I love Jake, I really do. He’s a great dad, a good provider, but I need more than a roommate. I need to feel wanted, desired, like I’m still his girl, you know? I keep thinking maybe I need to do more—lose the baby weight, get a makeover, be sexier somehow—but deep down, I know it’s not just about how I look. It’s about us, about whatever’s broken between us. I’ve been thinking about suggesting counseling, but I’m terrified he’ll think I’m overreacting or that it’ll make things awkward. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t care enough to try? I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t want to keep feeling like this either—like I’m begging for scraps of affection. I just want my husband back, the one who couldn’t wait to rip my clothes off, who made me feel like I was enough. I don’t know how to get there, but I’m not ready to give up yet. Maybe I’ll try talking to him again, really lay it all out, typos and all, just like this messy, aching heart of mine.

i’ve been holding a lot in for a long time. i don’t always know how to say these things out loud, but maybe you’ll understand. maybe you’ve felt some of this too.

i’ve always been different. even when i was little, i noticed it. i had meltdowns at school and sometimes i would run out of the classroom. everything got too loud and too confusing. kids stayed away from me. some were scared. i got bullied a lot. it made me think something was wrong with me.

i wanted friends. i wanted to be like everyone else. but i didn’t know how. it felt like i missed out on learning something everyone else just knew. people tried to help. i got put on meds and into therapy. i know they were trying their best. but it didn’t fix how alone i felt. it just made me feel guilty for being a problem.

growing up, i barely had any friends. most of the time, i was by myself. even in high school, when it seemed like everyone had groups and plans and people to count on, i had maybe two or three people i could really trust. and even then, i was scared. i felt like if people ever knew the real me, they might leave too. and if they did, i would have no one.

and the truth is, i love people. i love hard. i act fine because i don’t want anyone to worry about me. i laugh things off, i ignore my problems, and i show up for everyone else. because somewhere deep down, i’ve always felt like i can’t be loved just for existing. i feel like unless i achieve something, or do something for you, i don’t deserve to be cared about. i help so many people, and no one really asks how i’m doing. but that’s fine. that’s just who i am, right? i take care of others. i make people smile. i stay strong so no one has to worry. i guess i thought maybe if i gave enough, it would be enough to keep people around.

the only place where i ever felt like i belonged was baseball. when i played, i wasn’t different. i was just part of a team. i didn’t have to hide anything. all the stress, all the burden, all the overthinking — it would just disappear. for those couple of hours, all of my problems were gone. it was one of the only times in my life i could breathe and just be. no worrying if i was too much or not enough. no second-guessing every word i said. just playing the game i loved. it made me truly happy in a way nothing else did. i’ve played since i was a kid. no vacations, no parties, no normal stuff. just baseball.

when i played baseball, i felt like i had a purpose. it was the only place where things made sense. i had a job to do, and i knew how to do it. i didn’t have to guess what people were thinking or try to be something i wasn’t. i could just play. i belonged there, even when nothing else in my life felt right.

but i’ve also realized something. ever since i was 10, it’s all i did. every day. i practiced. i lifted. i threw. i hit. i spent every summer on the field while other kids went on vacations or hung out or just lived. i was out there in the middle of july, 100-degree heat, full catcher’s gear, sweat pouring off me, pushing my body harder than i probably should have. i was 15 years old, catching doubleheaders in the sun, going home sore and waking up to do it all over again. i told myself it was worth it. i told myself i was chasing something important.

but it also made me feel behind. and lost. because no matter how much i worked, i would see kids who were just better. they had the talent. they made it look easy. i’d put in hours and hours and hours, and they’d show up and still be ahead of me. i’d tell myself to keep going, to work harder, that it would pay off. but deep down, i started to wonder if hard work was ever going to be enough. if maybe i was just running in place, wearing myself out chasing something i could never catch.

and i think part of me knew that. but i was too scared to stop. because if i stopped, then what? without baseball, i didn’t know who i was. it wasn’t just a game. it was the thing that made me feel like i had value. without it, i was just that weird kid again. the one who didn’t fit. the one who didn’t know how to be normal.

so i kept going. even when it hurt. even when it felt hopeless. because being exhausted and left behind still felt better than being nothing at all.

now i know i’m probably not going to make it. i’m not getting drafted. i’m not going to play pro. and i don’t know what to do without it. it was never just a game to me. it was my whole life.

now i’m studying accounting. i’m good at numbers, maybe because of my autism. people say it’s a smart choice. they say it will get me a good job. but i don’t like it. it’s just surviving. working and paying bills and doing it all again the next day. i hate it. i hate that dreams don’t matter unless they make money.

i thought about coaching, but it doesn’t pay enough. so i have to give that up too.

i feel stuck most days. like i missed too much already and now i’m building a life that won’t make me happy. people told me i was going to do great things. and now if i’m not the best at something, i feel like i’m nothing.

i don’t know where i go from here. i don’t know what it looks like to build something new from nothing. i just know i’m tired of running from myself. tired of chasing things that were never meant for me. tired of believing that i have to earn the right to be okay.

I never imagined I’d find myself even thinking this, let alone writing it down—but lately, I’ve been wondering if my son truly loves me anymore. We used to be so close when he was younger. He’d run to me after school, tell me about his day, ask me for advice. Now, at 26, he barely picks up the phone. Messages go unread for days. If we do talk, it’s short, clipped, and he sounds like he’d rather be anywhere else. I know children grow up, I know they build their own lives—but this feels different. It doesn’t feel like distance, it feels like rejection. Like he resents me, or worse, doesn't care at all.

It’s in the little things that the pain creeps in. Holidays, for example—he’ll visit, but only because I ask, and he never stays long. He doesn’t initiate hugs anymore. There’s no warmth in his voice. Last Christmas, he showed up late, didn’t bring a gift or even a card, and spent most of the evening on his phone. When I tried to talk to him about his job, he just mumbled one-word answers. I used to know everything going on in his life. Now I learn about major updates from social media—after he’s told everyone else. When I mention feeling left out, he tells me I’m being too emotional or dramatic. That word—dramatic—burns every time.

I’ve tried to reflect on where I might have gone wrong. I wasn’t perfect. I yelled sometimes. I had rules, like any parent. I worked long hours when he was young, trying to provide. But I loved him with everything I had. I sat at his bedside when he was sick. I helped him with homework late into the night. I gave up so much so he could have opportunities I never had. So when he acts like I’m just some obligation now, it breaks something in me. I don’t need constant praise or attention—but I do need to feel like I matter in his life, like I’m still his mom and not some figure he’s trying to avoid.

The hardest part is that I can’t talk to anyone about it without sounding bitter. Friends will say, “He’s just busy,” or “It’s a phase.” But when that “phase” stretches into years, you start to ask yourself deeper questions. Like, what if he really doesn’t love me anymore? What if all the love I poured into raising him just... faded on his end? There are signs I can’t ignore anymore. No “I love you” at the end of calls. No interest in my life—he never asks how I’m doing. Birthdays are forgotten. He cancels plans without apology. It’s not just neglect; it’s indifference. And indifference hurts more than anger, because at least anger means they feel something.

What makes this worse is watching him with other people. I’ve seen him be so kind to his girlfriend’s family—bringing flowers, planning trips, sending thoughtful texts. I’m happy he’s found love, but it stings to know I don’t get that version of him anymore. Maybe he’s giving his best to others now, and there’s nothing left for me. I wonder if he sees me as just a reminder of his childhood or a source of guilt. I don’t want his pity, I just want a little of that love back. A phone call where he’s not distracted. A visit he actually wants to make. A moment where he looks at me like I still mean something.

I know I can’t force love. I know that adult children don’t owe their parents constant attention. But love shows up in effort, in presence, in the small gestures that say “you still matter.” And right now, all the signs point to something I never thought I’d face—a son who’s moved on from loving his mother. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just feeling lonley, reading too much into things. But if you’ve ever felt this ache too, then you know it’s not easy to ignore. I just hope one day he remembers the woman who raised him, who loved him even when he pulled away, and decides to come back—not out of guilt, but because he wants to. Until then, I wait, and wonder if the silence is my answer.

i’ve been asking myself that question for a while now and i don't want to talk about that with my friends. like, i don’t do the stuff you see on tv or in movies, i’m not cutting or bleeding or anything like that. but sometimes when i get really anxious or angry or just... overwhelmed, i scratch at my arms or the back of my neck or even my legs, usually when no one’s around. i tell myself it's nothing, that it’s not serious. but then i look at my skin and it's red and sometimes raw, and i start wonderin if it does count. maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m scared to admit that something's not okay with me. cause if i admit that, then what? do i tell someone? what if they think i’m just looking for attention? what if they don’t take me seriously cause i’m not “hurting myself the right way,” if that even makes sense.

i started doing it more during exams last year. the pressure just got to me and i felt like i was gonna explode. i didn’t even think about it at first — it was just a way to deal with the stress. dig my nails in, press hard, breathe, repeat. sometimes it helped me feel like i was in control, like i could focus my brain on that instead of everything else spinning around. but then one of my friends saw a mark on my wrist and was like “dude what happened there?” and i panicked. made up a story about my cat scratching me. i don’t even have a cat. i laughed it off, and he didn’t push, but afterward i felt so ashamed. like what the hell am i doing to myself? why can’t i just deal with life like a normal person?

it’s not like my life is that bad. i mean, i got a roof over my head, food, i’m doing ok in school, my parents are around even if we don’t talk much. but i just feel... numb half the time. and then randomly i’ll feel too much, like someone plugged my brain into an amp and cranked the volume up to 100. that’s when i start scratching. i guess it’s my way of trying to feel something real, or maybe it’s just a distraction. i don’t even know anymore. sometimes i do it and then sit there staring at the red marks, thinking “wtf is wrong with me.” other times i do it and just move on like nothing happened. like it’s normal. but it’s not, right? this can’t be normal.

i googled it one night and found people asking the same question. “is scratching yourself a form of self-harm?” and the answers weren’t super clear but most said yeah, it can be. self-harm isn’t always about blood. it’s about intention. and that kinda hit me. cause even if i’m not trying to “hurt” myself, i am trying to punish myself in a way. or escape something. or maybe both. i don’t know how to talk about it tho. i don’t even know if i want help or just someone to sit with me and say “i get it.” not fix me, not judge me, just get it. cause honestly the silence in my own head is sometimes the scariest part. i keep wondering if anyone else around me is going through this and just hiding it like i am.

so yeah, maybe scratching is a form of sh. maybe it’s not about what you’re using to hurt yourself but why you're doing it. i don’t want to keep doing this forever. i want to find a better way to cope. but for now, writing this is a start, i guess. if you're reading this and you’ve done the same thing — if you’ve ever sat in your room scratching at yourself and feeling like a freak — just know you’re not alone. i’m out here too, still figuring it out. still asking the same questions. and maybe, just maybe, that means we’re not as broken as we think.