Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 48

You hear it all the time—“Don’t mix work and friendship.” “Coworkers are not your friends.” But honestly? I didn’t believe it. I thought I was different. I thought I had built real relationships at my job, that the people I worked with had my back. Turns out, I was an idiot. Because the second things got complicated, the second there was a choice between loyalty to me or loyalty to him, guess what they picked? Not me.

It all started with a post. Just one stupid post. I wasn’t even that harsh, just some light criticism, some questioning about the way things were being handled at the biggest electric car company in America. You know, open discussion—the kind of thing we were all encouraged to have. Or so I thought. But the second my words hit that cursed blue bird app, the tone changed. The same people who laughed in the break room, who shared memes about all the chaos, who agreed with me in private DMs, suddenly weren’t on my side anymore. They saw my post, they saw my name attached to it, and instead of scrolling past or maybe even messaging me like, “Dude, maybe delete that,” they went straight to reporting me.

Next thing I know, I’m pulled into a “meeting.” No warning, no real discussion. Just straight to the point. “You’ve been engaging in behavior that is not aligned with company values.” Oh, company values? You mean the same company values that encouraged employees to always challenge the status quo, to be “bold” and “speak their minds”? Guess that only applies when you're kissing the ring, huh? Because the minute you question the self-proclaimed genius billionaire, suddenly you're not bold—you're a problem.

I sat there, staring at them, wondering if this was a joke. I mean, I wasn’t the only one complaining. We all talked about the unrealistic deadlines, the insane pressure, the way everything had to revolve around one man’s impulsive tweets. I just happened to be dumb enough to say it where he could see it. And my friends—the ones who shared my frustrations, who vented right along with me—what did they do? They snitched. They forwarded my post, flagged it, escalated it. Why? To score points? To save their own asses? Maybe they thought throwing me under the bus would make them look like good little soldiers, obedient workers in the empire of a guy who calls himself a free speech absolutist but fires anyone who dares criticize him. Maybe they were just scared.

I walked out of that building with a cardboard box and a pit in my stomach, not because I lost the job (honestly, I’d been thinking about leaving anyway), but because I realized how fake it all was. The inside jokes, the happy hours, the shared eye-rolls in meetings—none of it meant anything when it came down to it. The moment things got real, they chose the billionaire overlord with weird Nazi fanboy energy over the guy they used to grab lunch with.

And I get it. People gotta protect themselves. No one wants to be on the wrong side of the guy who reinstates fascist accounts on social media and spends more time posting memes than running a company. But damn, I thought at least one of them would’ve had my back. Instead, they smiled to my face, then sent my post straight up the chain. So yeah, lesson learned. Coworkers are not your friends. No matter how much you laugh together, no matter how many times you grab a beer after work, at the end of the day, when it’s you or them, they’ll choose themselves every time. And I won’t make that mistake again.

F**k you, Elon & my team 😘

I’m young, but not young enough where I’m selfish or make fun of kids. But I’m not grown enough to do things without being told “your way to young to be even thinking about doing something like that”. But I have a massive heart. I really hate it sometimes, for example, this one kid, small about 4’11 maybe shorter, super skinny, red head, loves dinosaurs and kid things, (he’s around 11-13) his heart definitely hasn’t even been scratched. Super sweet kid, mostly quiet, reminds me of my younger siblings. I was volunteering at a school musical and he was there. First couple days he didn’t have a lunch or dinner ( the musical stayed from 3pm-7pm and dinner was at 630pm and we left at 7pm) he always looked so hungry and was always eyeing everyone’s food like he was starving, I felt so bad I started crying and I felt so bad even though I had nothing to do with it. Then his parent didn’t pick him up (I leave at 8pm) and I felt so bad. Like my heart was aching so badly for him. He looked so sad and disappointed that no one picked him up yet. I feel so bad for him and want to help him or eat lunch with him or get him lunch. But I act all tough infront of my friends and I just can’t bring myself to help or do anything. He’s a super sweet kid and I just wanna give him a huge hug.

man, i dont even kno what to say. like seriously, nothing matters anymore. i wake up, i do what i gotta do, i go to sleep, repeat. its all the same, every day. nuthing exciting, nuthing different, just the same boring ass life over and over. people talk about goals n dreams n all that bs but like, what for?? u work ur ass off just to be tired, just to pay bills, just to end up at the same place. so why even bother. i tried to care, i really did. but caring just make things worse bc u get disapointed, u get hurt, u get stress over things that probly dont even matter in the long run. so i stopped. now i just do what i need to do to get thru the day, nothing more, nothing less.

ppl say oh u just need to find somthing u love but what if i dont love anything. like fr, theres nothing that make me wanna get up in the morning. job? boring. school? waste of time. hobbies?? dont even have those anymore. use to try stuff, sports, music, even stupid things like learning to cook or whatever, but i sucked at all of it so whats the point. why keep trying when u kno u gonna fail. and dont even tell me "just work harder," bc working harder dont mean sh*t if u have no talent in the first place. so yeah, i gave up. not like in a dramatic way, just like, i dont put energy into anything anymore.

i see ppl all excited about stuff, making plans, talking about there future like they actually got things figured out. good for them i guess. but i dont see that happening for me. future just seem like a long ass road of more of the same bs. wake up, work, sleep, repeat. its like life is some game i never wanted to play but im stuck here anyway. so now i just stoped pretending. stoped acting like i care when i really dont. maybe one day somthing will change, maybe not. honestly? dont care either way.

Me and my gf have been together for almost a year. But honestly for the past few months shes been treating me like we’re just friends again.

It’s happened before and Ive talked to her about it but after that all our conversations just felt forced. Like she was just forcing herself to talk to me. I know she loves me and i love her but i feel like she’s not taking our relationship seriously.

She’s talked about getting married and whatnot but it genuinely feels like she’s only affectionate and talkative whenever she feels like it. Whenever we text its not the same like how we used to, the conversations are dry and boring and there’s no actual conversation going on.

I remember when we first started dating i couldn’t stop smiling and i was so happy that we finally got together but now it feels like we’ve just gotten used to each other and we’re just normal friends again.

Any advice?

so I like this boy named henry but I don't know if he likes me back and i wanna ask him but I don't know because so theirs this guy and i'ma just call him j and him and his friends are known for telling people that person a like person b when it's not true. so I'm was walking to my class (keep in mind I have every class with j but I don't have any with henry) and j called my name so I turned around to see what he wanted and he asked me if I wanted put on's with henry but I was already upset with him(J) so I had rolled my eyes and said yeah but as I said that henry started say that he doesn't get down like that but i kinda ignored it and continued walking to class. so, after a few minutes I was already in class but j wasn't so after a few more minutes j walks in the class and tells me that henry said that he was ready when I was and he wanted to know if I knew if I could cook but I was still mad @ j so I said I'm fucking Hispanic why the fuck would I not know how to cook. so fast forward to like maybe a few days later i was outside my school and henry was standing with his friends infront of me and I look up and he was already looking @ me, and we kept eye contact for maybe a second or two then we both look away. so, moving on to lunch time and I told some of the girls @ my lunch table and then we went to go get lunch and they kept telling me that he was looking over here (the lunch line we were standing in) then when we sat down, they said that we was looking @ me a lot. so again, fast forward to today and it friday and i wanna ask him but im scared

i used to tell myself it was just a phase. that one day, i’d meet the right person, and everything would just click like it does in the movies. but here i am, years later, still alone, still wondering if maybe this isn’t a phase at all—maybe i’m just gonna be single forever. it’s not like i haven’t tried. i’ve gone on dates, i’ve downloaded the apps, i’ve forced myself into awkward conversations with people who i knew, deep down, weren’t the right match. but it never works out. either i don’t feel anything, or they don’t. or worse, we pretend for a while, but it just slowly fades into nothing. and every time it happens, i start wondering if maybe the problem isn’t them. maybe it’s me.

maybe i’m just not built for relationships. i see other people fall in love so easily, like it’s just something that happens to them. they meet someone, sparks fly, they get into a relationship without overthinking every little detail. meanwhile, i analyze everything. do i even like them? or do i just like the idea of not being alone? will this feeling last, or am i just forcing something because i think i should? and then there’s the other side of it—the fear. the fear of getting attached, of trusting someone, of letting them in just to have them leave. i tell myself i want love, that i want to experience all the things other people talk about, but every time i get close to it, i find a reason to push it away. too busy, too complicated, too much efort. but if i keep doing that, then what? then i will be single forever.

people always say, "you’ll find someone when you least expect it," but that feels like such a lie. it’s not like love is just gonna fall out of the sky and land in my lap. if it hasn’t happened by now, who’s to say it ever will? i try to convince myself that being single isn’t a bad thing, that i should just enjoy my own company, focus on myself. and some days, i belive it. but other days? other days i see couples walking down the street, holding hands, laughing like they exist in their own little world, and i wonder if i’ll ever have that. or if i’m just meant to be on the outside, watching it happen for everyone else but me.

It starts small. So small I almost don’t notice it at first. Just a tightness in my chest, like I’ve forgotten to breathe properly. My thoughts get a little louder, a little faster, like someone pressed fast-forward on my brain and now it’s running ahead of me, out of control. I try to ignore it, tell myself it’s nothing, that I’m fine, but my body has already decided otherwise. My hands feel weird, kinda tingly, kinda numb. My stomach twists into knots, and suddenly I feel like I might throw up, even though I haven’t eaten anything in hours. But the worst part? No one around me has a clue. I could be sitting in a room full of people, having a completely normal conversation, nodding, even laughing at the right moments, and no one would know that inside, I’m barely holding on. That’s the thing about a silent anxiety attack—it doesn’t look like what people expect. There’s no hyperventilating, no shaking, no obvious signs. Just me, stuck in my own head, trying to act normal while my body is screaming at me that something is very wrong.

I’ve gotten good at hiding it. Too good, maybe. I’ve had these episodes since I was a teenager, and over the years, I’ve learned how to perform through them. I know how to keep my voice steady even when I feel like I can’t breathe. I know how to smile and nod while my heart is pounding so hard I swear it’s about to explode. I know how to keep eye contact, to ask the right questions, to seem present, even when my mind is looping through the same terrible thoughts over and over again. What if I pass out? What if I embarrass myself? What if I just lose control completely? And the scariest part? No one ever notices. They just keep talking, keep moving, keep living their lives, while I sit there drowning in my own head. And then, just when I think it can’t get worse, the exhaustion hits. Like my whole body just gives up after the fight. My muscles ache, my brain feels foggy, and all I wanna do is sleep, but I know when I wake up, it could all happen again.

I wish I knew how to stop it. I wish there was a switch I could flip, some way to tell my brain, hey, chill out, nothing’s actually wrong. But logic doesn’t work when anxiety takes over. People say things like just breathe, just relax, but they don’t get it. If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be feeling like this in the first place. I try grounding techniques, counting things in the room, touching something solid, focusing on sounds around me. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn’t. The only thing I know for sure is that I can’t keep living like this, constantly waiting for the next wave to hit. Because that’s the worst part of anxiety—it’s never really gone. It’s always just waiting, lurking in the background, ready to take over the second I let my guard down. And honestly? I don’t know if I’ll ever be free from it.

I love my gf she texts me mid game and i feel special

I feel like I’ve been asking myself this question forever: what does sexual attraction feel like? People talk about it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s just there, obvious and unavoidable. But for me, it’s never been that way. I hear my friends talk about how “hot” someone is, how they’d love to get in bed with them, how their brain just goes there automatically. And I sit there, nodding along, pretending I get it, but I don’t. Like, I get attraction—I can look at someone and think they’re beautiful, handsome, interesting. I can even feel connected to someone emotionally, like I want to be close to them, to spend time with them, to be something with them. But that pull people describe, that physical craving, that feeling of just wanting someone in that way? I don’t think I’ve ever had that. And I don’t know if that’s normal, if I just haven’t met the right person yet, or if maybe… I’m just wired differently.

I’ve been reading a lot about asexuality lately, and part of me feels like it explains everything. But another part of me is terrified to accept it, because what if I’m wrong? What if I just haven’t unlocked that part of myself yet? What if I’m just a late bloomer and one day it’ll all make sense? I don’t want to label myself too soon and then realize later that I do feel it, that I just hadn’t experienced it yet. But at the same time, how long am I supposed to wait? How long do I keep pretending I understand something that, for me, has never been real? And then there’s the fear of what that means for my future. If I am asexual, does that mean I’ll never find love? Will people see me as broken? Will I always feel like I’m missing some huge, important part of being human? It’s overwhelming. I don’t have the answers, and I don’t know when—or if—I ever will. All I know is that I don’t feel the way most people seem to. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s just who I am. But right now? Right now, I just wish I knew for sure... 😥

What do you think!

My dad has schizophrenia. Ever since childhood it has been my insecurity. One day when I was in class 1 my dad randomly can to my friend and started saying random shit to him and it scared him. I am used to this behavior but many people don't know what schizophrenia is . Similar incidents like this has happened all through my life . Now I am in class 12 and nothing has changed,. This creates negavity in my mind. I feel like people's attitude towards me changes when they come to know about my family situation.

I have toxic family environment so I can't study, they disturb my mental state so I am unable to focus on study and I am stressed if I don't study my future will be spoilt

I keep asking myself this question every day: how to stop worrying about the future? Because honestly, I don’t have a clue. Maybe I used to, back when life felt predictable, when you went to school, got a degree, found a job, and stuck with it until retirement. But now? Now everything is changing so fast, I feel like I can’t even keep up. And it’s not my future that keeps me up at night—it’s theirs. My kids. They’re still young, still in school, but I keep thinking, what will the world look like when it’s their turn to step into it? What will jobs even look like in 15 years? We tell them to study hard, to pick a career they love, but what if those careers don’t even exist by the time they get there? What if everything we’re teaching them now is useless in a world run by AI, automation, and technology that doesn’t even exist yet? It terrifies me. Because how am I supposed to guide them when I don’t even know what’s ahead?

I see it already—companies replacing workers with algorithms, AI writing code, making art, answering customer service calls. I read articles saying entire industries will disappear, that jobs we once thought were secure won’t exist anymore. And the worst part? Nobody seems to know what will replace them. I try to imagine what my kids will do when they’re grown. Will they need a degree, or will universities be irrelevant? Will they compete with machines for work? What if no matter how smart, how hardworking they are, it won’t be enough because the rules of the game will have changed? I want to tell them that if they study, if they put in the effort, they’ll be okay. But I don’t know if that’s true. And that’s what scares me the most. I try to remind myself that every generation has faced uncertainty, that the future has always been unpredictable, that worrying won’t change anything. But the truth is, I feel powerless. I can’t stop the world from changing, and I can’t guarantee that they’ll be ready for it. All I can do is teach them how to adapt, how to think critically, how to keep learning even after school ends. Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe instead of worrying about what jobs will exist, I should focus on raising kids who can handle whatever comes. Because in the end, the future isn’t something I can control—it’s something they’ll have to navigate on their own. And maybe, just maybe, that will be enough.

I never thought I’d be the woman who got divorced in her fifties. When we got married, I truly believed it was forever. We built a life together, raised kids, went through struggles, celebrated milestones. But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t happy anymore—not in the way that could be fixed by a weekend away or a new routine. It was the kind of unhappiness that settled deep into my bones, the kind that made me feel like I was disappearing inside my own life. I stayed for years, telling myself it was just a rough patch, that love looks different after decades together, that comfort is its own kind of happiness. But the truth is, comfort became suffocation. And when I finally gathered the strength to say it out loud—to say I can’t do this anymore—his reaction was exactly what I feared. He didn’t yell, he didn’t fight, but he refused to accept it. As if, by sheer will alone, he could undo what I had already decided. And now, months later, after papers have been signed and our lives have been legally separated, he still looks at me with this quiet disbelief, as if I’ll wake up one day and say, You were right, let’s go back to the way things were. But I won’t.

Every conversation we have now ends the same way, with him saying "I don’t understand how you could do this," and me responding with the only truth I have left to give: "I’m sorry you feel that way." I say it because I don’t have the energy to fight anymore, because I know nothing I say will make him understand, and because, in some ways, it’s easier than admitting I don’t care if he understands or not. I didn’t leave to hurt him, but I also didn’t leave to spend the rest of my life apologizing for saving myself. And that’s what I did—I saved myself. From a life that felt stagnant, from a marriage that felt more like an obligation than a choice. It’s not that I don’t feel anything for him anymore. I do. I will probably always love him in some way, but love and happiness are not the same thing. And I chose happiness. That choice was mine to make, even if he never forgives me for it. So now, whenever he tries to guilt me, to make me second-guess, to make me feel responsible for his sadness, I take a deep breath and remind myself: I gave him years. I gave him chances. I gave him everything I had to give. And now, I choose me. I’m sorry he feels the way he does, but I am not sorry for leaving.

Bro, I swear, I used to be the hustle guy. You know, the dude waking up at 5 AM, hitting the gym, drinking coffee like it was holy water, grinding 12-hour days like I was building the next Amazon. And then I actually did it. Well, not Amazon, but I sold my company, made a nice chunk of cash, and now… I have nothing to do. Like, literally nothing. No deadlines, no urgent emails, no clients screaming at me. Just me, my bed, and the crippling realization that I have absolutely zero reason to get up before noon. And let me tell you, once your alarm clock stops being a life-or-death situation, waking up early becomes the hardest thing in the world. Like, what am I even waking up for? To stare at my ceiling? To scroll Instagram until I question every life choice I ever made? To drink coffee out of boredom instead of necessity? Nah man, my bed is too comfortable for that nonsense. 😴

At first, I told myself it was just a phase, you know? "Take some time off, relax, recharge," all that good stuff. But now? It’s been months, and I have officially entered pajama gremlin mode. My sleep schedule is so messed up that I’m basically nocturnal. I wake up, maybe make a smoothie if I’m feeling ambitious, then somehow the next thing I know it’s 3 PM, and I’ve accomplished nothing except opening 25 Wikipedia tabs about ancient civilizations and debating if I should start a podcast. And don’t even get me started on productivity hacks. I tried setting alarms—snoozed them all. I tried putting my phone across the room—ended up sleeping on the couch so I wouldn’t have to get up. I even tried the whole “just get up and make your bed” thing, but turns out, if you never get up, the bed stays made forever. Life hack? 🤷

And look, I’m not depressed or anything, I’m actually in a great mood most of the time. But there’s just this weird meh feeling when you have no goals left to chase. It’s like playing a video game where you already beat the final boss, so now you’re just wandering around the map, opening random chests for fun. I even considered starting a new business just to have something to do, but the thought of investor meetings and spreadsheets again makes me wanna hibernate permanently. Plus, what would I even start? "Sleepy CEO Coaching"? "How to Wake Up Late and Still Succeed"? 😂 Nah, man. Maybe I just need a new hobby or something. People say “travel the world”, but traveling alone sounds suspiciously like a lot of effort, and I’m pretty sure I’d just end up sleeping in different time zones instead.

So yeah, how to get out of bed? No clue. If you got tips that don’t involve waking up at ungodly hours or having an existential crisis, let me know. Until then, I’ll just be here, vibing in my blankets, waiting for life to give me a reason to put on pants again. 😆