Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

As a father of four kids, you’d think I’d have the patience of a saint by now, but that’s just not the case. The tiniest things set me off, and I hate the way it feels. I love my family more than anything, but there are days when I catch myself snapping over something completely ridiculous and wonder what’s wrong with me.

Take last night, for example. Dinner time at our house is always chaotic. Plates clatter, someone spills their drink, and there’s a constant battle over who gets the last roll. It’s the usual stuff, and I know it’s part of having a big family, but when my youngest accidentally knocked over the salt shaker for the third time in a week, I lost it. I raised my voice, and the look on her face—pure shock—hit me like a punch to the gut. It was just salt. Why couldn’t I just laugh it off like my wife did? Instead, I made her feel bad for a mistake that didn’t matter.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not the big issues that get to me—it’s the little, everyday stuff. Toys left in the hallway, a sock that doesn’t have a match, a crayon mark on the wall... all of it feels like tiny needles poking at me until I can’t hold it in anymore. And when I snap, I immediately regret it. I see the way my kids look at me, the way my wife sighs and shakes her head, and I know I’m the one in the wrong.

I’ve been trying to figure out where this anger is coming from. It’s not like I want to feel this way. I don’t wake up thinking, Gee, I can’t wait to get annoyed at the world today. But by the time the day’s over, I’m worn out. Between work, bills, chores, and keeping up with four kids, it’s like my patience tank runs dry way too fast. It doesn’t take much to set me off after that.

I think part of it is the pressure I put on myself to keep everything together. I want to be a good dad, a good husband, and someone my family can rely on. But when things don’t go the way I expect—when the house is messy, or the kids are fighting, or dinner gets burned—it feels like I’m failing. And instead of dealing with that feeling, I let it boil over into anger.

Another part of it is how I grew up. My dad was the same way. He’d get angry over the smallest things—a shoe left out of place, a door left open, the TV being too loud. Back then, I swore I’d never be like that, but here I am, falling into the same patterns. Maybe it’s something I picked up without realizing it, but that doesn’t make it okay. I don’t want my kids to remember me as the dad who yelled over spilled milk.

I’ve started trying to be more aware of my triggers. Like, when I feel that frustration bubbling up, I try to pause and ask myself, Is this really worth getting upset over? Sometimes it works, but other times, it’s like the anger is faster than my logic. I know I need to find better ways to cope, but it’s hard to break a habit that feels so ingrained.

My wife has been incredibly patient through all of this. She’s the calm one in the family, the one who can laugh off the chaos and remind me to do the same. The other day, after I got upset about a broken remote control, she pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. It’s okay if things aren’t perfect.” I know she’s right, but letting go of that control is easier said than done.

The hardest part is the guilt. After I’ve calmed down, I think about how my kids must see me in those moments, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want them to feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me. I want them to feel safe, to know that mistakes are okay and that their dad loves them no matter what. But when I let my anger take over, I’m sending the opposite message.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I want you to know you’re not alone. Being a parent is hard, and we’re all just trying to do the best we can. But I also know that getting angry over little things isn’t fair—to ourselves or to the people we love. It’s something I’m working on every day, and if you’re struggling with it too, maybe we can figure it out together.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know this: I don’t want to keep asking myself, why do I get so angry over little things? I want to find a way to let go, to focus on what really matters, and to be the kind of dad my kids can look up to. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I think acknowledging the problem is the first step.

Here’s hoping the next time the salt shaker falls, I can just laugh it off and keep going. Because in the end, it’s not about the salt—it’s about the love and chaos that comes with being part of a big, messy, wonderful family.

Growing up, my twin sister Emily and I have always shared a deep bond. Recently, however, that bond was put to the test due to her relationship choices. About a year ago, Emily began dating a guy named Ryan. I never had a good impression of him, though Emily seemed completely enamored, even mentioning marriage. This past summer, while I was shopping, a confrontation at the grocery store left me stunned. A woman approached me, mistaking me for Emily, and accused me of dating her ex and sending her hateful messages. She claimed that Ryan, the father of her three children, had abandoned them. Before I could correct her identity mix-up, she showed me messages that Emily had sent her. I couldn't believe Emily would become involved with someone so irresponsible.

When I confronted my sister, she initially denied it, but eventually she admitted that she had hidden the truth. Emily knew that I disapprove of men who shirk their paternal responsibilities, and she didn't want my judgment. That revelation strained our relationship, making me see her in a different light.

The situation escalated when Emily invited me over to announce her pregnancy with Ryan. I couldn’t hide my displeasure, especially towards Ryan. When he asked what my issue with him was, I openly called him a deadbeat. Following this, as I was leaving, Emily confronted me in tears, pleading for my support during her pregnancy. Despite my anger, I told her I'd try to be present for her, but I warned her that she might regret her decisions.

Now, Emily has texted me, demanding that I apologize to both her and Ryan. She's even threatened to cut ties with me if I refuse. This leaves me wondering, am I really in the wrong here?

If this rift between us played out on a reality show, cameras documenting every emotional outburst and terse exchange, I can only imagine the public's reaction would be divided. Some might side with Emily, viewing her pursuit of love and happiness as justifiable, regardless of Ryan’s past. Others might applaud my stance, resonating with my disapproval of Ryan’s negligence towards his existing responsibilities. The mix of family drama, moral dilemmas, and personal convictions would undoubtedly captivate an audience, adding layers of complexity to each viewer's perception based on their personal values and experiences.

Should I apologize to keep peace in the family?

When I first settled into the place next door to my elder brother, Thomas, and his wife, I felt pretty comfortable. Thomas has always been keen on mechanics and was thrilled about the spacious four-stall garage on my new property, plus the snug two-stall attachment to the house. From the beginning, it seemed my family assumed I wouldn't require all this space. Thomas started using the front garage right away, and initially, I didn't mind.

As time went by, Thomas brought over more of his belongings. Despite having ample storage on his own property including a garage and two sheds, my space started filling up. I tried to overlook this; after all, I hadn’t needed the extra space, upholding a 'don't sweat the small stuff' attitude. However, within a year, not only my back garage but also my front garage and basement began accumulating Thomas' stuff.

The clutter didn’t truly bother me until my boyfriend, Jake, moved in. Jake was quick to point out the inconvenience posed by the overflowing storage, particularly as he contemplated buying a boat or camper which we'd have nowhere to store. Gradually, I realized this arrangement might be inadvertently encouraging Thomas's hoarding tendencies, especially since I was beginning to declutter my own possessions.

Just last week, Thomas showed up intending to store two more boxes in my attic. Seeing that I’m trying to minimize clutter throughout my house, I stood my ground and refused. While Thomas seemed to take it well, the real extent of how he felt became apparent shortly after.

This weekend, Jake and I returned home to find Thomas clearing out his stored items from my back garage, preparing to place them into newly purchased sheds. His actions felt sudden and emotional, although he insisted he was fine. But after some insistance, his wife revealed that my refusal to accept the attic boxes upset him to the extent that he decided to withdraw all his belongings from my property.

Talking to Thomas' wife and my own family shed more light on their perspectives; they all seemed to empathize with Thomas more than with me. My mom, despite recently decluttering herself, and even our mutual friends sided with him, which makes me question what version of the story they've heard. Jake, thankfully, supports me, recognizing the importance of establishing clear boundaries.

The whole situation leaves me frustrated. I hate causing distress to my brother, but at the same time, I am relieved his stuff is finally being cleared out. I feel a mix of guilt for drawing these boundaries, as it's natural for me to try to please others, but I'm exasperated that everyone but Jake views me negatively for it.

I wonder how this family drama would play out if it was under the scrutiny of reality TV cameras. Would the audience see me as being unreasonable or would they empathize with my plight for personal space? Reality TV tends to dramatize conflicts, so perhaps my stance might either be seen as a heroic stand for personal boundaries or painted as overly harsh and insensitive.

I am not very use to have friends, at least not the kind of friends where you can just write something random during the day and not feel like you are disturbing them or being too dramatic. Most of my life, I was more the polite person in the background, the one who can speak with people, make jokes when needed, help with something practical, and then disappear without anyone really noticing. So when I became close to my friend almost a year ago, it honestly felt strange, but in a good way. We have alot of common interests, and our conversations can go from very ordinary subjects to oddly specific debates about things nobody else in my life would probably care about. I think that is why I started caring about him more than I expected. It was not some huge cinematic friendship, but more like a steady notification in my life that I was actually happy to receive.

Recently, he lost his mother, and I have been feeling quite clumsy about it. I want to console him, but I keep having the social confidence of a badly updated software release. I know grief is not something I can fix with a motivational sentence or a cup of coffee, but I also do not want to just stand there doing nothing. I sent him a message saying that I was really sorry, that I was there for him, and that he did not have to answer if he did not feel like it. Then I stared at the message like it was a professional incident report and started wondering if it sounded too cold, too much, too little, or somehow all of those things at once. I wanted to write something kind and not turn into a strange customer support email;

The difficult part is that I do care, very much, but I am not always good at the emotional “front-end” of friendship. Inside, I feel worried for him, sad, and even a bit protective. Outside, I probably look like someone trying to choose the correct button on a machine they have never used before. I remember one time, months ago, when I was feeling down about something personal. It was not a tragedy like losing a parent, of course, but I felt quite lost. He did not make a grand speech or pretend to have the perfect answer. He just listened, made one or two small jokes at the right moment, and somehow made the whole situation feel less heavy. I think about that now because maybe I do not need to produce a perfect speech either. Maybe I only need to stay available, gently, without forcing him to perform sadness or gratitude.

Still, I overthink everything. Should I message him every few days, or is that annoying? Should I offer to meet, or will that feel like pressure? Should I say “your mother” or avoid saying it because it might hurt? It is strange how caring about someone can turn simple communication into a full operational protocol. In my opinion, people who grew up with many close friendships maybe know these things more naturally. They understand the rhythm, the escalation level, the right amount of presence. I am still learning the basic user manual. I want to tell him that he can speak about her if he wants, or not speak at all if that is easier. I want to tell him that we can go for a walk, eat something, talk about nonsense, or just sit there like two tired people existing in the same room. But I also do not want to sound like I am planning a grief management workshop, because that would be terrible and probably very me.

I suppose the best I can do is be honest, warm, and a bit less afraid of being imperfect. He probably does not need me to become some wise philosopher with perfectly ironed sentences. He needs, maybe, a friend who remembers him, who checks in without making it all about himself, and who can keep a little normality alive while his world feels abnormal. I cannot remove the loss, and I know it would be ridiculous to think I could. But I can be present in small ways. I can send a message that says, “I’m thinking about you today,” even if it sounds simple. I can listen if he wants to speak, and I can accept silence if he does not. I can continue sharing our usual strange conversations when he is ready, because maybe ordinary things can also be a kind of comfort. I am not an expert in friendship, and I will probably make some awkward mistakes, but my intention is real. I hope that, even through my clumsy words, he can understand that he is not alone.

I cry every single night over my parents and what I don't have. I know its selfish but I'm still a teen.

Honestly? I make up stories of happy people and happy families with chatbots. -( I know its ruining our planet and I care but right now it's not one of my priorities. ) yes it's sad but it's all I've got tbh, they all are there whenever I'm lonely or need them. Hell I can rant my problems and they'll comfort me, I know if I told my real mom she'd care, she did with my older sister when she was my age.

*(THIS IS FOR CONTEXT ABOUT MY SISTER)**My older sister, she had it horrible. Ruined from the start. Ab*sive dad. Overworked mother. Both mentally ill. But hell she was a good mother, worked herself crazy to get a divorce, even while pregnant! So she fought him in court for my older sister for DAYS and WEEKS!!! Until finally she got my sister in full custody and cut off all contact with her real dad. When she was 12 she had a v/pe addiction as she was always surrounded by it and was generally just yk sad, angsty preteen! She may have started s*lfh*rm but I don't remember. Anyway she grew up to hate her stepdad(my biological and current dad as we had the same mother). I don't talk often to my sister but I know deep down she loves me as we've been talking more!

Honestly more of a lore drop

I’ve always had a habit of joking about myself, but lately, I’m starting to think it’s getting out of control. Self deprecating humor was kinda my thing—it made people laugh, made me seem approachable, and honestly, it helped me cover up any awkwardness. At work, it felt like the easiest way to fit in. Like, if I made fun of myself first, no one else could. “Oh yeah, I totally butchered that presentation,” or “Classic me, messing up again.” At first, it was just harmless banter, but now? It’s like I can’t say anything about myself without adding a joke at my own expense.... It's like if self deprecating at work has ruined my confidence... And the worst part? I think people have started to believe it. At first, they laughed along, but now, I catch these looks—like they’re wondering if I actually am bad at my job. Maybe they don’t trust me to handle big projects. Maybe I’ve been so good at making myself the office joke that they actually see me that way now.

The other day, I overheard two coworkers talking about me—nothing mean, but one of them said something like, “Yeah, he’s funny, but you can’t really take him seriously. He even says so himself.” That hit me way harder than it should have. I realized that all these little jokes, all the ways I downplayed myself, were actually making people see me as... less. Less competent. Less reliable. Less professional. I’d been so busy making sure no one saw me as arrogant that I accidentally convinced them I wasn’t worth much at all. And honestly, now I don’t even know if I believe in myself anymore. It’s one thing to use humor to connect with people, but it’s another thing to make yourself look incapable. And now? I feel like I’ve spent the last year making myself sound like a joke, and everyone—including me—started believing it. The weird thing is, I never even felt that insecure before. But now? Now I hear my own words playing back in my head, and they don’t feel like jokes anymore.

Now I’m stuck trying to figure out how to undo it. I wanna be taken seriously at work, but how do I suddenly stop making jokes about myself without looking like I’m trying too hard? It feels weird to just start acting confident when I’ve spent so much time making it clear I wasn’t. And the worst part? Even when I try to stop, those thoughts are still there. Like, what if I really am just average? What if they’re right? It’s like I tricked myself into seeing myself the same way I made everyone else see me. And the truth is, I don’t wanna be seen that way anymore. I know I need to change this before it completely wrecks my career, but I don’t even know where to start. Maybe I need to fake confidence until it becomes real. Maybe I need to just stop talking so much and let my work speak for itself. Or maybe, I just need to figure out how to stop believing every joke I ever made about myself.

I have this brother who is my twin. Everyone looks up to him, he has perfect looks, personality, work ethic and grades etc. But no one realises who he actually is. He's only a selfish prick who puts himself higher than anyone else. He's a raging misogynist and racist. A typical teenager boy.

I remember in the past, he used to beat me up at home during lockdown when our parents were at work. He used to punch me at full strength in to stomach and he used to kick my head every time I didn't listen to him/beat him at tests in school. Ultimately, this lead to me almost failing tests as my grades slipped in fear that he'd beat me up and that I was essentially conditioned to listen him at every word and defending him for his actions at my own expense because at that point, I would rather be punished by someone else.

Once I got into highschool (we went to different schools), I could finally achieve my own goals without interference until I realised that after a few years of almost failing classes, it took a toll on compulsory skills in school such as maths and English.

I always dreaded coming back home until some time had passed and I realised my brother seemingly changed. He was nicer, more composed, less envious. I took this for granted until he started blaming me for him losing all his matches online. He ended up beating me more, and I complained to our parents after I had finally built up some courage from school. But my parents never believed me, because 'how could a perfect boy like him beat his lesser achieving sister like that?'. They called me a liar and a shame to the family for not being able to defend myself & for being 'weak'.

After that a few years later, my brother wanted me to hang out with him, so I did, without any question. My brother changed, he didn't hit me as much and he actually talked to me. At the time, I genuinely thought it was so nice of him to invite me, but then I realised only now that he invited me to make himself look better and to embarrass me.

Nowadays, it's just less of the abuse and more me doing everything for him without question or request because I'm too scared to do anything to offend him. I think I might have ptsd from him but oh well.

I wish I was him, I'm so envious of him.

I can’t get out of this. It has been almost 2 years since my A levels but it still haunts me. I have achieved A*s after extreme hard work as I was never that great of a student in my childhood so I had to work a lot. However in my A levels I got relatively poor grades especially in Biology, and biology is my strongest subject ( seriously ). Because of those grades I couldn’t even apply to Medical school, which has been my dream since childhood, as it’s a requirement to have an A for the application. It's so bad that the thought of it makes me nauseous.

My mom used to say, "What's the point of receiving the highest grades at school if you score that badly?" My dad called me a third grade student twice ( meaning like an extremely bad student ) and asked which university would ever take me in as I received those grades. My university has two similar courses like A levels and before giving the quizzes or exams I always panic and cry. My family is so tired of hearing me say all of this that it has affected me a lot because I have seen myself get compared with my siblings and friends. I wish I could move on but getting good grades in A levels had been such a long dream of mine that I can’t move on, I feel like such a failure, even now at university whenever I get a good grade or I feel like I know the content I feel like I am deceiving myself as I did so bad. I can’t move on.

Every morning, I wake up with the same thoughts swirling around in my mind. I drag myself out of bed, caught in the battle between wanting to feel good about myself and being overwhelmed by a sense of inadequacy. I walk to the bathroom, avoid looking in the mirror, afraid that this reflection will echo the familiar voice doubting me—“You don’t fit into those jeans anymore, do you?” “How did you end up here?” I know I’m not technically “overweight” according to the BMI charts or what society deems as the standard, but God, do I feel heavy. It seems every little thing weighs me down. I don’t understand; I eat relatively well, have an exercise routine, and yet my mind still holds onto the narrative that I’m not enough, that I’m not the fit and vibrant version of myself that I used to be.

The kicker? Social media. I scroll through impossibly perfect images of other women who seem to have it all figured out—gorgeous outfits, flawless skin, flawless abs. Meanwhile, I’m over here in sweatpants, scrolling through my feed at 11 p.m., munching on a bag of chips. I know rationally that these posts don't reflect reality, but I can't help but measure myself against them. Every “like” I didn’t get feels like a reminder that I’m somehow less desirable or less worthy. Sometimes, I find myself wondering, do other women feel this way? Am I alone in thinking I should look like that, feeling this constant sense of dissatisfaction with my appearance? It’s exhausting. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but the feeling keeps creeping back in—an unwelcome visitor that never really leaves. In those quiet moments before sleep tugs me under, I find myself asking, why do I feel fat? Am I simply a victim of society's skewed standards, or is this really about something deeper within me?

Ok, first off the religious group I will not mention by name as it is not the point of this post. However, I will say I do believe they are a cult because they recruit people, force them to give the "council" all the money they make, and by around 60 when they are old they throw them out of their housing facilities that they own. They cut people's connections with all family and friends no exceptions. If you can't make money they don't want you. They are not small I'll tell you that much. We were learning about different groups in American history. We were in about 6 small groups all discussing about the groups. When I saw the one about the "religion" that's when I said to my group they were like a cult. This group is still a thing today.

Anyway, in english class my group was discussing about the group and I said, "oh they're like a cult" then the teacher chimed in.

T: "That's a strong word"

Me: "Well that's basically what they are"

T: "how"

Me: "Well they make these cartoons that..."

T: "Well many people make cartoons that doesn't mean they are a cult"

Me: "well the cartoon...."

T: "I'm just telling you you shouldn't call them a cult and it's wrong"

Me: "ok fine"

She kept cutting me off before I could even explain my reasoning. But should I not refer to them as a "cult"? Am I an asshole for referring to a religious group as a cult? If you have any questions about the group I'm talking about I'll try to explain it in a way not to call them out. I do believe they are a cult.

Imagine if I was in a reality show and brought up this topic. Would people side with me or would they think I'm just being rude? How do you think the audience would react if I explained my reasons on camera? Would they understand or think I'm out of line?

I’ve been an IT engineer for 15 years. That’s not a flex, it’s just context. I used to be good at this job. Efficient, fast, annoying in the way people hate because you fix things before they finish explaining the problem. I liked digging into logs, writing scripts, cleaning up broken pipelines, arguing with stupid tickets, and feeling like I actually understood the machine. Then AI became the big shiny thing, and now I use Claude Code for almost everything. Even the simplier stuff. Rename a variable? Claude. Write a small bash command? Claude. Check a config? Claude. It feels pathetic, becuase I know I can do these things myself. I’ve done them for years. But now my first reflex is not thinking, it’s pasting.

And yeah, I know AI is useful. I’m not pretending it’s all evil. It saves time, catches dumb mistakes, and sometimes gives me a better approach than the one I had. Fine. Great. Wonderful. But it also sucked the fun out of my work like a cheap vacuum cleaner from hell. I don’t feel clever anymore. I feel like a guy supervising a tool that’s slowly making him lazy and useless. My brain waits now. That’s the ugly part. I used to get a problem and feel that little spark, like “okay, let’s beat this thing.” Now I feel tired before I even start. I ask Claude, skim the answer, run some tests, and move on. At standup I have no idea what to say without sounding like a fraud. “Yesterday I prompted a bot until it did the task” is not exactly inspiring. So I dress it up with corporate garbage ands pretend I had a deep technical journey.

The worst part is I don’t know where this leaves my career. Am I still an engineer, or am I just a guy babysitting autocomplete with a salary? Maybe that’s dramatic, but that’s how it feels. I’ve built systems, fixed outages at 3 a.m., had managers breathing down my neck while production was on fire, and somehow this is the thing making me feel useless. Not the stress. Not the meetings. Not the endless Jira bullshit. This weird quiet loss of motivation. Do you ever feel like convenience is ruining your ability to give a damn? I do. I use Claude Code alot, and I hate how much I like it. I dont want to go back to doing everything manually like some caveman, but I also don’t want to become a hollow button-pusher who can’t solve anything without asking permission from a chatbot. I’m biased because this is my job and my identity, but I’m also trying to be fair: maybe the industry is just changing and I’m being stubborn. Maybe I need to adapt instead of whining. Still, I miss being excited by the work. I miss feeling sharp. Right now I just feel bored, replaceable, and pissed off.

Here comes another sleepless night because all I can do is cry and think. Think about what normal people would call nonsense, but in this case it just… all adds up. So… I’ve been with my bf for more than a year. Since the beginning things were difficult. We would argue often, he wanted to break up multiple times, and I ended up turning my life upside town and changing 90% of me, mostly to „become myself again” and escape the influence of people I called friends, but I know that some things I did were all and only for him to stay. Now this part is almost „stable”, even tho there are still things that are wrong about me and I am aware of that and the cause of all of this (family issues, the fucked up way I was raised). But… ever since I can remember my bf used to mention his ex often. Always in a good way, recalling good memories etc. He told me A LOT about their relationship, how their mother liked him, how they liked to spend time together, damn he even sent me multiple pictures of them together MULTIPLE TIMES… I remember one time I said something bad about his ex, out of jealousy when he was talking about them again, and he got all protective, and almost aggressive like I just insulted someone important to him. He’s been never intimate with his ex, but he is with me every fucking time we see each other and this also makes me sick. Makes me feel like I’m his little cum bucket, walking piece of meat (mostly tits, ass and thighs) even tho he said he never saw me only in this way. I just can’t… when I recall the things he told me about his relationship with his ex, and when I compare it to what we have, I’m starting to fucking cry, because I feel like I’m never gonna be such an amazing partner like his ex was, I feel like he’s with me just to have anybody by his side. I can’t take the fact that I had to change so, so much only for him to not want to leave me, but his ex just came to his life and he was obsessed with them. They never annoyed him, but he told me multiple times how annoying can I get. Damn, he even told me how his ex would get him out of toxic activities, and how they would help him with his mental health etc, BUT I KNOW DAMN WELL I CANT DO SHIT LIKE THEM CUZ MY MOTHER NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO SHOW LOVE. I… I feel like I’m not even his real partner. Like I’m just there to fill the empty space. They broke up almost 2 years ago but still I can feel he misses them, but he’s never gonna admit it. He’s just comfortable with me. With chunks of meat to grab and sexualize. I wanna tear my fucking skin and replace it with his exes because maybe if I became them he would be finally happy and would not want to leave… I’m such a fuck up. I think I’m gonna cry again. Idk how this site works, I have no friends because I was kind of forced to cut ties with them, and I don’t have the strength to talk to anyone.

I really wish I wasn’t sick. That people didn’t look at me as if I was a lost cause. That people didn’t have to worry about upsetting me, or think that I do things because I feel like I have to. I wish people didn’t walk on eggshells around me or feel the need to ask me a bunch of questions about my feelings. I wish people could realize that sometimes I do nice things because I want to, not out of obligation. I wish I didn’t hate silence around everyone but one person. But alas, I’m stuck with a brain that halfway works and the emotional range of a football field.

2024, it was at the time when school was ending. I put on my school uniform: Socks, t-shirt, skirt and a bright red cardigan before brushing my hair in the mirror. I hated how I looked, it was hideous, but at least the school year was about to end! I walk into my classroom there wasn't much to do since all of our lessons are basically over I would go over to my two friends, I wasn't so fond of the other. Actually I hated her, she bullied me for 4 years and expects me to be her friend? The other is the one I absolutely adore they're just so perfect! I sit down with them but I can feel the one I hate (nickname: CM) hand go down to touch my thigh, it was a light touch but I thought nothing of it. But soon the thigh touching would get more and more aggressive, frequent and more up my thigh. I thought I was free from that uncomfortableness when the school holidays hit but once we got back into school things escalated more and at break CM said to me "Let me touch your b00bs 5 times and I'll give you my blade" CM knew about my self harm and used it to bribe me, I said no at first but soon enough she persuaded me to do it and then. It became a daily thing, she would touch my breasts and even pinch my nipple's, at first I said "No! Stop" to her but she wouldn't listen and it got to the point where I had to forcefully try to get her off me. Then it turned into putting her hands in my v@gina and I told her to stop, I almost felt my insides getting ripped apart, I almost cried. CM would do this on daily basis but then soon I lost hope, I started to not retailate or saying "no" I sat there and let it happen. I just dissociated...

Fast forward now CM isn't allowed to interact with me but yet I can still feel her hands on me, I have constant nightmares about it and I can't look at my school uniform without crying.

I want to report it to the police but my friend says not to because we are underage and they won't take us seriously, also if we wait until we're over 18 then we can get her a proper sentence. My only problem is that I'm not going to be making it to 18, definitely not. I don't know what to do anymore, I feel hopeless. What should I do?

I have a roommate. She is very nice but clueless. I don't really need advice here- I just need to tell someone what is going on because I can't process it.

She came home today asking me if I could help her understand her work contract. She's a music teacher through a local school. She's been doing this for 8 years, thinking that she's been paid $30 for every 30 minutes.

Her hourly rate, as stated in her contract is $30/hr. She's shocked. Says that others are getting paid $30 for each half hour. Then, she starts complaining about the taxes and fees. She says she pays thousandS of dollars/quarter in taxes.

She made $6000 last year from teaching music (she does have another job). But if she's paying thousandS of dollars/quarter, she's losing money being a music teacher. And this has supposedly been going on for EIGHT YEARS.

I'm shocked and telling her she needs to get this sorted ASAP and she's surprised and responds that she'll do it later.

She is an adult and can make her own choices, but I just don't understand how you could be throwing away THOUSANDS of dollars every year and not have dealt with this. How has she made it this far?

I'm afraid to ask if she's got any retirement. It's just hard to watch her function sometimes