Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 46

I never thought I’d be one of those women who stayed. You know the type—rational, self-aware, educated, and yet still somehow stuck between what they should do and what they feel. When I found out my boyfriend had cheated on me, the emotional whiplash was debilitating. I remember staring at his face while he denied everything, even as the proof was right there, practically screaming from the screen. Later, he admitted to more than just the affair: he'd lied about past relationships, finances, even seemingly mundane details like where he was on certain weekends. Those small lies somehow hurt more than the big one. I kept wondering, “Was anything real?” He told me he lied because he didn’t want to lose me—ironic, considering the lies are the reason I can’t look at him the same. People talk about “rebuilding trust” like it’s some Ikea bookshelf. Just tighten a few screws, follow the instructions, and voilà. but trust isn’t a piece of furniture; it’s this fragile, complex web that once broken, doesn’t reassemble so neatly. And when it’s been shattered more than once, even the idea of rebuilding feels insulting.

There’s also this paradox no one talks about: in order to rebuild trust, you have to offer vulnerability—the very thing that got you hurt in the first place. I’ve asked myself if I even want to trust him again. Do I want to open myself up to more manipulation, or am I just addicted to the comfort of familiarity? There are days when I almost convince myself it was just a mistake, a temporary lapse in judgment. Then I remember the months of gaslighting, the “you’re crazy” looks, the weaponized silence. My therapist calls it trauma bonding. It’s the cycle of abuse disguised as affection, and yes, it’s real. We’ve had endless conversations about boundaries, accountability, and what it means to earn back trust. He says all the right things now: that he’ll be transparent, that he understands why I question everything, that he wants to do the work. But how do you quantify “doing the work”? Is checking in regularly and sharing phone passwords enough? Or is it something deeper, more intangible? Sometimes I catch myself analyzing his tone, his pauses, the exact wording of his apologies. I’m exhausted by my own hypervigilance, and it makes me feel like I’m the one who’s broken.

The hardest part is that I haven’t left—yet. Part of me still believes in redemption, in growth, in the idea that people can change if they truly want to. But then I think, should the burden of his growth be placed on the ruins of my trust? The foundation is cracked; no matter how well you paint over it, the instability is still there. And I don’t want to live in a metaphorical house that could collapse any second. He keeps asking, “What can I do to prove it to you?” and I never know how to answer. Is it even my job to provide a checklist for redemption? Or is that another form of emotional labor I never signed up for? I’ve become someone I don’t recognize—calculated, cautious, and constantly second-guessing my instincts. I used to believe in open-hearted love, the kind where you dive in headfirst without checking the depth. now I keep one foot out of the water, scanning for sharks. Maybe you’ve been there too. If so, tell me—how do you unlearn distrust without betraying your own sense of self?

Do I want him, or do I simply just yearn for the feeling of being loved by somebody? Am I simply just bored, suddenly craving the attention of someone else while still having the full attention of him? I am a horrible person. I am undeserving of being loved; I do not have the capacity to be loved for anything but my measly little body. My frail feelings have me running in circles, eager to figure out... what is wrong with me? Why am I like this? I am undeserving of love. I see why nobody ever wishes to have me.

I'm struggling so much I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend of 1.5 years, and I have no idea at all if I still have romantic feelings for him. I always want the best for him, and I truly do want to see him succeed in life, but I just don't know if I love him anymore in that way. I've begged for months on end just for him to listen. to understand how I feel. He doesn't get it. He only wants to change when I'm beginning to slip from his grasp, and it's the worst feeling in the world. Only now that I'm starting to lose my care factor, he wants to fix the issue I've had for a YEAR. It feels so horrible. To add to that, my guy best friend is being really weird .. like oddly affectionate. It has me feeling ... confused? causing my struggle to worsen, even? And not only that, but he has been borderline encouraging me to leave my boyfriend.

I'm so confused .. lost, even. I don't know what to do with myself. It doesn't help I'm struggling with severe depression (5 years, ongoing).

You know, I've always been a little awkward when it comes to talking to people, and now that I've started my first job at 22, you'd think I'd have figured it out by now. But no, socializing at work is still a mountain I struggle to climb, primarily because of my autism. It's like trying to decipher a language that I'm not entirely sure I understand, yet everyone else seems to speak it fluently. I see my coworkers engrossed in conversations about weekend plans, sharing memes, or even just working through the lunch break together, and I can't help but feel like an outsider looking in. I genuinely want to be part of this camaraderie, to share a laugh over a coffee run or engage in small talk like it's second nature. But man, sometimes it just feels like an insurmountable hurdle. Have you ever tried to speak up in a meeting, only to overthink every word and end up saying nothing at all? That's me most days. I remember reading somewhere that "conversation is an art that can be learned," and I'm holding onto that hope like it's my lifeline; it's about baby steps, right?

Yet, beyond my apprehensions, I've had moments that give me a glimmer of hope, little anecdotes that remind me that I can do this. Just the other day, I saw an opportunity while we were in the break room. They were talking about a Netflix series I've actually seen—one of those rare moments where my nerdy interests intersect with more mainstream ones. So, I dove in, cracking a joke about a twist from the show, and to my surprise, they actually laughed—genuine laughter, not just the polite kind. It was one of those small victories that can make a guy's entire week. I mean, who'd have thought that my encyclopedic knowledge of a Netflix plot would become my inroad into a conversation? Still, I'm trying to find more of those moments, where I can contribute something that doesn't feel forced or rehearsed. It's all about finding that sweet spot between contribution and comfort without feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of social interaction. Sometimes, I wonder if it's worth it to stress over fitting in when one of my favorite quotes by Maya Angelou is "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." Maybe that's a hint that I need to adapt my own viewpoint rather than stress over societal norms, you know?

suzy i never want to see you again. we used to shittalk so many people that you even started shit talking your gf, but a few weeks ago when i made a joke about her having messy hair you fucking changed up on me. now you cant go a conversation without sarcastic laughter and being a bitch. i ve only ever spoke to you because of your gf and her and my friend who you ungratefully sacked off after a week i just wish you wouldnt be such a massive bitch to everyone. ive tried getting into your interests but thats just got me called a creep and stalker like weve known eachother for a few years i thought i coul like what you like. youve even turned your gf (my friendd since primary school) against me i cant even speak to her without you interrupting me and changing the topic, or you dragging her away to talk to someone else

Hi, call me sumaya. i have been struggling with my mh since year7, my teachers dont listen to me and i feel like that no one likes me and there is no point to life, i have been cutting and cutting and i js feel like doing it even if im 1month clean. i js hate my life and i always get bullied and teachers always think i "i kick off" well no, i am at my breaking point and all of the teachers dont like me and i js hate me, my timeout pass got taken away and all my support is going down the drain. and my wellebing is all scenes when it isnt. if its other ppl they mollycoddle them and i js wanna be loved and have friends and leave that skl.. i wanna be alone./ i have no friends and no one likes me. i am a nobody.

It’s weird to even say this out loud, but I got a tattoo to cover my self-harm scars. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. The whole idea started off as something empowering, like reclaiming my body, right? You know the line, “Your skin is your story”—some therapist threw that out years ago during one of my low points. It stuck. I thought maybe, just maybe, putting something beautiful over something so painful would help change the narrative. So I chose a design I’d doodled in a journal years ago—something abstract but meaningful, sort of a fractured mandala, each line connecting past and present. The artist was kind and didn't ask too many questions, just looked me in the eye and said, “We’ll make this a transformation piece.” That sounded nice. Better than what it really was: me trying to hide from myself in ink and pain management creams.

Now that it’s been a few weeks, I stare at it and feel conflicted. The tattoo is well done—technically clean, good contrast, smart shading—but the scars are still visible beneath it. Not physically, not if you’re just glancing. But I know they’re there. That skin holds memory like film holds shadows, and even the pigment can’t overwrite the fact that I hurt myself deliberately, over and over, for years. Sometimes I catch my reflection and wonder who I’m trying to fool. Is this ink for healing, or just another form of concealment? It’s a question I keep circling, like a moth around a porchlight. I'm 38 now. Not a kid experimenting with identity. Not a teenager struggling with trauma she couldn’t name. A grown adult who still can't quite figure out what to do with all this leftover pain.

The part I didn’t expect was how other people would respond. Friends said things like “Wow, that’s powerful” or “It’s so meaningful,” like they were in on some secret spiritual moment. I smiled and nodded and said things like “Yeah, it represents growth,” but I never corrected them when they assumed it was just art for art’s sake. One coworker even said, “That’s dope, did it hurt?” and I just laughed and said “Not more than the stuff it’s covering.” He didn’t get it. And maybe I didn’t want him to. The truth is, there's a whole subculture around tattooing over scars, and it's not always about covering things up—sometimes it's about honoring survival. But I’m not sure if I survived something, or if I just stalled it.

I know this might come across as ungrateful or overly cynical, especially since not everyone gets a second chance to rewrite their skin. But what if rewriting isn't enough? What if healing isn't about erasing the past but learning to live with it in broad daylight? Some days I think I did the right thing—turned something painful into something beautiful, like alchemy. Other days, I feel like I’ve just added another mask, one that requires constant touch-ups and explanation. I'm not embarrassed by the scars anymore, but I am tired of what they represent: all those years spent pretending I was fine, when I was really just holding myself together with caffeine and denial.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is—if you’re thinking about getting a self-harm tattoo, ask yourself why. Like really, why. Is it closure? Is it expression? Is it shame in disguise? Maybe it’s a mix of all those. I can’t tell you the right answer because I still don’t know mine. All I know is that ink fades slower than memory, and covering something up doesn’t always mean it’s healed. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe healing isn’t linear. But I do wish someone had told me that before I sat down in that studio, gripping the chair like it was gonna save me.

i hate that i still think about him every damn day. like seriously, what the actual hell is wrong with me?? it’s been almost a year now, and yet my brain still plays back the same damn memories like a broken-ass record. we broke up for good reasons—he was selfish, emotionally unavailable, and let’s be real, kinda manipulative—but here i am, stuck on this dude like he was the love of my damn life. i know better!! i tell myself all the time that it’s not love anymore, it’s just habit, it’s just comfort, blah blah blah, but none of that seems to help when i see something that reminds me of him and i instantly feel like shit. and what pisses me off the most is that he’s probably doing great, not even sparing me a single thought, while i’m out here spiraling over some random t-shirt he left at my place or that stupid playlist we used to drive around to. 😒

i’ve tried everything. blocking him didn’t help, just made me feel more pathetic because i still checked his socials through a fake account. going out with friends works... for like five minutes until someone mentions his name or something vaguely related and boom, my brain’s back in hell. even dated other guys and guess what? they all felt like filler characters in a story that’s already ended. like i was just going through the motions. one of them even told me i wasn’t really present and yeah, no shit dude. i’m trying but it’s like i’m stuck in emotional cement. and don’t get me wrong, i don’t miss how he made me feel like i was never enough or the stupid games he played when he was “too busy” to call. i miss the small, dumb shit like how he always brought me red bull without asking or how he said my name when he was half asleep. isn’t that just sick?? how can i know someone’s bad for me and still crave their attention like some love-starved idiot???

so yeah, tell me this—why the f*ck can’t i get over him?? is there some switch i forgot to flip? am i broken or just brainwashed from being treated like trash for so long that now i think it’s the norm? i try to analyze it, journal it, scream it into a pillow, and nothing changes. maybe i’m just terrified that no one else will get me the way he did... even if the “getting me” part came with a truckload of emotional damage. maybe it’s not really about him at all, maybe it’s about how i felt when i was with him—like i mattered, like someone chose me, even if he dropped me just as quick. i don’t know. all i know is this mess inside my chest won’t go away and i’m tired of pretending like i’m fine. if you’ve been through this—how the hell did you finally let go??? 💔

Literally whenever i try to comfort anybody they never respond or they just say something totally unrelated, which i dont mind but i wanna see someone happy, i wanna save someone, not for any selfish reasons, because it makes me happy when others are happy. (A picture of Kanade fades in/j)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* i’m tired of people portraying us as villains

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* i’m tired of chatgpt poisoning my brain

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

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

* i’m tired of seeking validation with a chatbot

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

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

* i’m tired of these invisible bruises

* i’m tired of all this noise

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

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

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

* i’m tired of wanting to drown myself

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

*good thing i have data duh!

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

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

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

This is a genuine cry for fucking help

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

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

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

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

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