Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I’ve moved all my life never in one house for long due to one parent. So I’ve never made relationships, either friend or love. Every time I do a few week later I move again. This parent always asked, “No girlfriend yet”, “Why don’t you go out with friends” and other of the sort. My answers were always “No” and “They are online”. I started online school a year or two before Covid as I was going to help take care of a family member but they never moved in, and with my constant move I decided to stay online, Covid didn’t help and I never had a high school life, prom or any of that. I did college for a year online as well but that’s because of something else in a bit.

This parent suggested maybe I join the military, so I did, I enlisted in the Army. I spent a year and some change months clearing my medical and prepping. A few months before I was cleared I met my first and only girlfriend through a milsim we were part of. That’s again, for later. But I signed my life away as a 68W Combat Medical Specialist with a 4k bonus and was extremely lucky to choose a first duty station. South Korea, I never made it but woulda been great. So I ship to FT Sill OK for BCT and train. I made it a few weeks before my legs gave and I couldn’t stand. I went to the medical center and doctors and after a battery of tests and imaging, I stress fractured nearly every bone from my hips (inside and outer) to my feet, grade 1-4, I also ripped many of my muscles in my legs, and had something called Rhabdo-Myolosis. On top of that I was diagnosed with Osteoporosis and told I was of no use to the Army. I was placed on confinement to quarters for 72 hours twice while they were doing all the testing spanning to weeks. Terrible, I couldn’t lay on the bed so I sat on the concrete floor, cold, for hours and hours only able to go outside for meals. Watching my battle buddy’s come in for brief time trying to get info from them. What are you doing? It’s it tough? How are you? But it was in vein. White walls hum of the ac, occasional drill coming into to check lockers and throw something. Before I was discharged I was placed in a medical hold unit, C95 Adj Battalion. Basically for people really hurt and can’t stay at their training battery. I would say this was the start of my decent into depression and honestly lunacy. It was only 50 days in there but they were ever long. White brick walls, no windows, in crutches and medical boots like my 72 hour holds, A tv that was always off because of punishment. It was a prison, insane asylum and hospital in one room. Phone maybe 2 times a week but never enough to tell my family what’s happening. On call of hey I’m doing great I’m feeling strong, then I basically shattered my legs and I don’t know what’s happening, to finally, I’m useless and I will never be the same again. I went mad there, I’m not okay now either, I can’t be closed in, I need to see outside, and the bricks, ohh the bricks. If I ever see them I absolutely lose it inside. That was it, from I’m going to be a soldier and prove I’m worthy and have amazing dad lore for her and our future kids to, dang, I’ve lost my dream job. But I was going home to my partner.

My partner and I, met on a milsim for a game. We were extreme long distance being across the ocean but we made it work. It started 3 months before I shipped to BCT. And she stayed all through my training. I thought a few times I’d get Dear John’d but I was lucky. Nope. 2 weeks after I got home she got shallow, and we never played a game together even though that’s literally how we met and played daily before I left. So on the end of week 3 I said I k ow you want this to end. Just tell me so I hear it from you. She admitted she wanted it to end and in short I agreed to her leaving. She said she will stay till I get my help from the VA. I said no, I don’t want to force you to stay, and it would take years. That was it. 7 months gone. I really felt I lost it all then. My core dreams. I had my dream career, health and woman. Then in 3 months all was gone.

A few months later the same week I had plans to visit her country and her, I had to put my dog down. I was done at that point. Everything I had.

I continued seeing mental health services at the VA and long story short I was put in an inpatient psychiatric hospital. I met someone there and decided to give each other a chance. I had my first date ever, and had my first kiss ever. Finally feeling the human connection I had craved for years. But I shoulda known better. Nothing works for me. That night I cried tears of joy, someone cares about me again, the physicality of humanity is perfect, she cried to, but cause she still loved her ex. Told me a few days later. And after many talks, I found, she used me, the pictures we took, the date, everything was to get him to talk to her again. I said I can’t continue talking to you after that. I may crave that connection more now but not at the cost of fighting another guy for someone and being used to get to him. Just. No.

So now I’m back at square one. Alone. I don’t have a job because my health limits work and no one will hire with my conditions. Back to being online and trying to make it through the day.

I'm typing this while at work. Over the last 2-3 weeks, I have started to despise my job. I've always wanted to work in Marketing, but I'm actually miserable. The boss I once liked is getting more and more overbearing, and she is such a stickler for the rules that it's actually affecting my creativity and how I function at work. (EX: Can't use lowercase letters for a graphic because she doesn't like it OR have to clock in and can't be salaried like everyone else in the building and makes a big deal about making up hours in accordance with "policy" that NONE of the other departments follow). I work in a giant communal office that is dim and only has three small windows. In my last job at the same company, I was allowed to take my laptop and sit outside and work. As long as I got my work done, it didn't matter where I did it from. My current boss won't let me leave the office. Lunch breaks have to be an hour on the dot, and she even gets annoyed if you're in the bathroom too long.

I feel stifled in my creativity, I always feel connected to my job, I hate coming to work to sit in this dim office, I hate that my boss won't give me any kind of freedom when she knows I can do my job and I do it well. To top it all off, my eyes are tired every day from staring at the computer my entire shift. I feel like I don't have any personal time for my husband, I don't have time to work on my hobbies because I'm so annoyed and tired after work, and I'm overall just miserable.

Just quit, then, you may say. Well, I can't. My husband and I were just given the opportunity to rent one of the houses my company owns. It's four bed, two bath, and it includes wifi and rent is only $550 a month. That's amazing. We were paying upwards of $1600 per month including utilities for a one bed, one bath crappy house for the past year, and payments were getting hard. But I have to work at the company in order to rent the new house. So, even though I'm miserable and feel like I'm wasting my life (I'm 24, I shouldn't be feeling this way), I can't leave. We're saving too much money for me to leave. Plus, my husband has to wait a year before we could move anywhere because he has to see if he gets into the grad program he's applying for.

I don't know what to do. I made an appointment to see a counselor, something I never thought I'd do, and I have that this weekend. How am I supposed to do this job for a whole year when I feel like crying every day when I leave? It's affecting my whole life. I am grumpy at everyone, even people I love dearly like my husband and parents. The only time I feel somewhat like myself is the weekend, and even then, I'm so busy doing side jobs to make money, I barely have time to breath. Life is supposed to be about working to live, not living to work. I see marketing girlies sitting by the beach with their laptops, drinking coffee, and making a ton of money, and I know that's extreme, but I want to at least be able to open a freaking window or be able to work from home some days and not feel guilty if I ever have to take a sick day. I feel hopeless at the moment. What can I do?

Dear mummy,

words can't even begin to describe the kind of pain it is to be your daughter. I've known you my whole life yet I've completely failed to understand you and why you choose to be the way you are. I've failed to understand your refusal to take accountability for the problems you continue to create within our family.

I understand that you were born in a different time where abuse was a style of parenting, and where children were seen but not heard. I understand that you were raised to think that these sort of things were okay. but in your 50 years of living how have you failed to see that this behaviour you continue to do is exactly what's affecting your relationship with your children. A relationship you so desperately want yet refuse to fight for. I don't understand why you're afraid of your children leaving you when you're older, but you refuse to care and nourish them while they're still here with you. aren't you contradicting yourself mummy? why do you make it your life's mission to create division between the children in this family and the turn around and ask us to be united and love one another. are you not being a hypocrite mummy? why do you continue to coddle the boys in the family and forbid them from lifting a finger, and then turn around and blame us girls when they behave like selfish, inconsiderate bastards. Was it me who raised them mummy? I don't think you understand the kind of environment you created for us mummy.

I was raised in a house where I wasn't allowed to make mistakes. a place where my opinions didn't matter. a home where facts were void because you're the only one who could ever be right. I can't even count the amount of times where you made me feel so ashamed for existing in the body I do. If it wasn't my weight that was the issue, it was my gender, and if it wasn't that then it was the fact that I was unfortunate enough to look like my father. You quite literally raised me to hate myself! but on the few occasions you take an interest interest in what I have to say, you act surprised when I tell you that I don't really like the way I look. One time you actually had the audacity to ask me why I wasn't confident in myself like the other kids. I even specifically remember you asking me why we're not close, and why I don't tell you things. You expect me to behave like a child who was raised in a home where her voice mattered, a place where her questions weren't dismissed as disrespect. but honestly mummy your like a sculptor who never touched the clay but demands a masterpiece. And for that I will never forgive you, no matter how much I love you.

I used to believe you'd change, but time and time again you proved me wrong. I hope you know that all those times we argued and disagreed on what you were doing, I was trying to mend to our relationship. I hope you understand that all those times I was being a "disrespectful child" who "talked back to her elders", I was hoping you'd understand that I fought because I wanted a relationship with you. But now I understand that you are simply too proud to change. Too proud to even consider that maybe you went about motherhood the wrong way. But it's ok. Knowing this has honestly freed me. I'm no longer the girl who's filled with jealousy when I see my friends have fulfilling relationships with their mothers. I'm no longer the girl whose eyes fill with tears when I see someone on TV who reminds me of you. Because at least now I know where we stand.

Sincerely your daughter

Alright, so here's the deal: I'm 19, NEVER dated a girl, and now that I'm trying to get my feet wet in the dating pool, I'm hitting this wall. Dating apps are scary, man. Everyone's out there already got their game going while I don't even know where to start. Do you just slide into a girl's inbox with lame jokes? Sounds risky as hell.

I'm wrecking my brain thinking about icebreaker questions. What's too personal? What's boring? Like hey, sure I could ask her favorite color but then what? My friend told me it's all about memorable first impressions; she's supposed to instantly remember you're different from ten others asking dumb stuff.

Last week I tried being funny and asked about pineapple on pizza... she didn’t reply back... 😶 Now I’m replaying everything trying not to come across clingy, which I know ain't attractive. But seriously why do people assume every guy knows how this goes without ever having practiced?

When my buddy first went out with his now-girlfriend he said confidence was key because girls read into that like hawks spotting juicy prey miles away. Makes sense until you're standing there actually croaking 'cause nerves hit hard! What works though is genuine curiosity; someone mentioned quirky random things like 'worst job ever' or 'celebrity crush growing up.' Nerdy yes awkward much maybe depends how it lands!

Anyway feel free send those savior tips my way peeps really need some wizardry here breaking the ice ✌️ Thanks!

Hello everybody,

Recently, I became the owner of my maternal grandmother's house, a generous inheritance that felt like winning the lottery. This beautiful home, located a mere hop from the city outskirts, is a perfect sanctuary for my husband, our two children, and myself. Considering our combined income, purchasing a similar property would have been an impossible dream due to the sky-high prices in the real estate market. We're both careful with money, but sometimes, even careful planning isn't enough to compete against such a tough housing landscape.

My half-sister, Mia, shares the same father as me, and we’ve maintained a close, supportive relationship over the years. Recently, Mia secured a job in her dream field right in the bustling city center. Despite the job's appeal, the salary isn’t enough to cover city center rents, and commuting from farther away wouldn't make financial sense either.

When Mia asked to move in with us while she got established, it seemed like a great solution for everyone. She was enthusiastic about contributing to household chores and mentioned she’d be saving money to move out eventually. I was happy to help by offering her the guest room.

Mia has been living with us for about a month, busily settling into her new position. Until now, everything ran smoothly. Occasionally, I would need her to assist with family responsibilities, such as preparing dinner or putting the kids to bed on nights when my husband and I were delayed at work, and she managed well.

However, a recent incident created some friction. Our youngest child fell ill at school and needed to be picked up. I couldn't leave work immediately due to severe train delays, and my husband was unreachable. Since we live just five minutes away from the school, I texted Mia, who was working from home that day, to see if she could help out. Her response was that she’d try to manage it after her meetings ended. This upset me because it seemed she wasn't prioritizing an urgent family need.

I asked her to explain to her boss that this was a family emergency and that she needed a short break to collect her niece, making it clear she could return to her tasks right after. Mia retorted that her workday was still packed, and she couldn't spare time for unexpected childcare duties.

Our conversation escalated as I reminded her of her promise to help around the house, to which she countered that she wasn’t just free labor. Currently, the atmosphere at home is strained, and I feel stuck in a difficult position.

Imagine if this family tension played out on a reality show. The reactions from audiences would be intense and divided. Some might sympathize with the pressure Mia feels juggling a new job and familial expectations, while others might praise or criticize my insistence on immediate family support during emergencies.

What do you think? I want other opinions to help me...

I am sixteen years old. I am a woman. I am writing this becuase I need to get it out, and IIWIARS is the only place that does not pretend to care. This happened at school, in a hallway that smells like cleaner and boredom. A guy I liked said I was an ugly fat girl. He did not whisper. He did not laugh. He said it like a fact, like he was reading attendance. I stood there and nodded, which still annoys me. I went to class and took notes. I underlined dates. I answered questions. Inside, something cracked and stayed cracked. I am not here to beg for comfort. I am here to state what happened and what it did. Words are not harmless. They sit on you. They weigh more than backpacks. 😐

I liked him in a quiet way. I watched how he spoke to teachers and how he tapped his pencil. I imagined conversations that never happened. That part is on me. The part where he decided my body was public property is on him. He looked me up and down, slow and lazy, and then said it. Ugly. Fat. Girl. Three words, clean and sharp. People nearby heard it and pretended not to. That is how school works. Silence is the dress code. I walked away without crying. That seems brave, but it was just shock. I cried later, alone, and felt stupid for doing it. Do you know how fast confidence leaves when someone names you like that?

I am not pretending to be neutral about it. I am angry. I am also tired. I am aware of my body. I live in it. I know its shape, its limits, its hunger. I am not blind. I am also not broken. His comment did not reveal a truth. It revealed his need to feel larger. People say boys are immature, like that excuses anything. It does not. At sixteen, you know enough to be kind or cruel. He chose cruel. I chose silence. I am still deciding if that was a mistake. It is wierd how one sentence can replay itself all day, louder each time. 😡

I am writing this in a formal way on purpose. Clear sentences help me breathe. This is not a dramatic story. It is common. It happens alot. Girls learn early that their value is negotiable. Boys learn early that opinions can be weapons. Teachers say ignore it. Friends say he is insecure. Both statements can be true and still useless. I did not ask for advice. I did not ask for approval. I am stating that being called ugly and fat changes how you walk into rooms. It changes mirrors. It changes lunch. It changes how you hear laughter behind you. I am definately not pretending it rolled off me. 💔

If you are reading this, ask yourself something simple. Have you ever reduced someone to a label just to feel powerful? Have you ever stayed quiet when you could have spoken? I am sixteen. I am a woman. I am learning how to exist in an enviroment that judges before it listens. I do not hate him. I do not forgive him either. I am balanced enough to say both. This is not a victory speech. It is a record. Ugly fat was what he said. This is what I say back, calmly and clearly, in my own words.

Due to personal preferences and sensitivities, I’ll refrain from specifying the sex, gender, or age of individuals involved as those details aren't essential to the gist of my situation.

Here’s a bit about me - I’m an early childhood educator, which means I’m surrounded by toddlers and infants for the better part of my day, averaging 10 to 12 hours. My significant other, on the other hand, has minimal interactions with young children and feels notably uneasy around them.

From the start, we concurred that our wedding should be a 21+ event. Our decision was influenced by several reasons. Primarily, our families have a penchant for indulging in alcohol and some are known to partake in recreational marijuana use. Exposing children to such an environment didn’t sit well with either of us. Equally, considering our budget and guest list limitations, this age restriction seemed practical.

However, a recent family gathering has thrown a wrench in our plans. After learning about our adults-only rule, my partner’s sister was visibly upset, pushing him to reconsider including her baby in the wedding. Though it may paint me as the antagonist, honestly, spending my entire day around children leaves me craving adult company during my personal events. My concern isn’t rooted in envy but in the appropriateness of the atmosphere surrounding a child at our wedding. Being a mandated reporter, I am acutely aware of how quickly I could be placed in a compromising position should something go awry given the planned activities. Additionally, reversing our decision for one child might seem unfair to other guests who were asked to leave their kids at home.

Am I unjustified in my feelings? Should we maintain our initial stance despite the familial pressure?

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality show - wouldn't that spark some fiery debates and opinions among viewers? Projecting my real-life issue into such a public spectrum, I can't help but ponder how the audience might react to my predicament. It's easy to foresee a split, with some criticizing my inflexibility and others advocating for the need to uphold personal boundaries in the face of family expectations.

Am I going to look like a bridezilla?

So, let me set things straight first. My fiancée stands tall at 6'0 — and trust me, she revels in her height. It's almost like she enjoys this feeling of being superior just because she’s taller. Now, she’s got this friend from college, Lexi, who’s only 5’1. The rest of their group varies between 5'4 and 5'8, meaning both Lexi and my fiancée are quite noticeable when they’re snapping group photos. All these friends are also going to be bridesmaids at our wedding.

Just yesterday, my fiancée approached me with this thought that had apparently been brewing in her mind. She's contemplating kicking Lexi out of the bridal party simply because she believes Lexi's distinct height makes her stand out too much in photos and somehow steals the spotlight. She even expected me to come up with a tactful lie to avoid blowing up their friendship. When she told me this, I honestly thought she was joking, but she was dead serious.

I tried reasoning with her, explaining that the spirit of friendship and the joy of the day far outweighed any so-called aesthetic issues, but she wouldn't have any of it. Finally, I lost my cool and told her straight, "Sarah, I love you, but this is ridiculous. Lexi’s been your friend for over ten years, and to kick her out over something so trivial and beyond her control, like her height, is just cold-hearted. If it really bothers you that much, maybe suggest a pair of higher heels for Lexi, but cutting her off like that... It’s just wrong. You have the freedom to choose your wedding party, sure, but if you do this to Lexi, it’s gonna make me rethink us."

Well, that blew up. She claimed I was using emotional blackmail against her and stormed off to her mom's. Now, she won’t talk to me and her mom bombarded me with angry texts for making her daughter upset.

Imagine if this whole scene had played out on a reality show. The drama and tension would certainly make for good TV, but I wonder if the viewers at home would side with me or see my approach as too harsh? Reality TV thrives on conflict and big emotions, and this situation certainly fits the bill. Would they see my fiancée’s request as unreasonable or view my reaction as an overreaction?

Now, suppose this scenario was a reality show moment, how do you think the public would react?

I reside in a peaceful suburban community, and I've come upon a recurring issue with my neighbor’s guests using my driveway for parking without seeking permission first. Despite my gentle requests on multiple occasions, explaining the inconvenience it causes me as I need the space for my own car, the issue persists. They seem to disregard my appeals, continuing to occupy the driveway whenever they visit. Considering their lack of response, I’m thinking about installing a “No Parking” sign to curb this activity, although I'm wary this might strain the relationship with my neighbor further. To my dismay, my neighbor has responded quite negatively to my grievances, accusing me of making a mountain out of a molehill since it happens only sporadically and, according to them, isn't that bothersome.

The situation has become very frustrating, and it leads me to wonder what would happen if this scenario played out in a reality TV show. Would the audience side with me, or would they view my actions as over the top? Reality shows thrive on conflict, and this kind of neighborhood squabble could potentially spiral into a much larger drama, drawing opinions and reactions not only from the local community but also from a national audience. Depending on the show, producers might highlight my frustrations or perhaps paint me as the antagonist for causing a rift over something as seemingly trivial as a parking spot.

If this matter was featured in "Neighborhood Wars" or a similar reality show, it would be interesting to see the reaction of the audience. Would they sympathize with my need for personal space and order or accuse me of being petty? Reality shows have a way of magnifying problems, and the input from a host or mediator might offer new perspectives on resolving such disputes amicably, something I think could be actually useful back in my real-life situation.

Should I install a “No Parking” sign? Would love to know your thoughts on this...

I know am like her. That's actually they main reason i can't stand her. Cause She thinks she sooo good and i'm the dirt under her feet but we're so much like each other. Better yet. She think we're not similiar at all and even openly said she dislikes me. Since i was like 7. Which f you. But also guess what? You're exactly like me. I know i'm Just as bad if not worse. I've been aware of that since forever. since she does nothing but remind me how bad and horrible i am. I've tried addressing this stuff to her. But to her? This Is normal. All the messed up stuff She does Is normal cause "She had It worse." And She Just gets worse. Maybe stewing in hate won't help. But since i can't talk to her since she won't listen. And i can't leave right now, venting and ignoring her Is the only thing i can do. (When i'll be able to leave i will. Even if just to get a break from her.) And honestly i think i have the whole right to be mad and hate her for wounds she caused. And i know for a fact what she does isn't right and i'm tired of pretending It Is. She doesn't deserve It. Cause she's not only horrible to me, and she's not only horrible to every since animal she "saved" once she gets bored and tired of them. She's horrible to others of our family too. She Just makes strangers thinks she's this adorable little princess. And yeah she did have It worse. But guess what? She stayed, for people who didn't care about her. She stayed and stewed in hate her whole Life and brought me with her. And now she's giving all that hate to me. I have the whole right to hate what she did and nothing will change my mind. Since realisticly speaking. I'll never be able to tell any of this, She never listens anyway. I am like her. A lot. But i'm trying to improve. I'm trying to be better. I am a bad person. But i don't scream at others day and night about minimal issues i brought uppon my self. I don't torture others for every single mistake they ever made. I don't "ban" crying cause it's not a good enough reason. I don't hurt others the way she does. She's stuck in the fantasy that she's perfect and above everyone else and She always will be. And i refuse to forgive her for that. ever.

Hello! I'm Caralia.

so I've been in therapy since 2nd grade. like holy shit, we know it's been a while. I have (diagnosed) minor depression and major anxiety. I used to feel refreshed and gleeful. now i just feel overwhelmed and pissed when I vent about my problems. If you check my profile and my other stories, you'd understand why I have a therapist. anyways, back to my current problem. therapy used to make me feel energized and happy, but now I only feel exhausted and aggravated. since i'm a minor, everything I tell to the therapist is like ammo to tell my parents. I fucking hate it. don't get me wrong, i love my therapist. she's a great woman. i think therapy like lost it's benefits so i've been trying this out. I'm naturally a pessimistic person, but i am always smiling and being nice to everyone. i'm outgoing and social, but like sometimes i feel like 25% of me is like... faked?? idk i'm crazy. Love you guys.

im tired of this life now, i can’t take it anymore

Sometimes I sit in my car for a few extra minutes before going back inside. It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me in there that I don’t already know—dinner needs to be made, the kids are probably arguing over something ridiculous, and my husband will be in his usual spot, watching TV or scrolling on his phone, barely noticing I’ve come back. It’s not that he’s a bad man. He’s never been abusive, never been mean, never done anything that would make people say I should leave him. But he also doesn’t do anything. No affection, no deep conversations, no laughter that isn’t forced. Just routine, the same boring loop we’ve been stuck in for years. And I hate that I sound ungrateful, because he works hard, he provides for all of us, and I know plenty of women have it worse. But does that mean I’m just supposed to accept that this is it? That life is just chores and parenting and making sure everyone else is okay while I slowly feel like I’m disappearing?

I wasn’t always like this. I used to be fun, I used to have dreams. I wanted to travel, I wanted to do something creative, I wanted a marriage that actually felt like a partnership instead of just coexisting. But we had kids, and then another, and then another, and suddenly my entire identity became mom while my husband kept being... himself. He still has his job, his hobbies, his space, while I feel like my whole world has shrunk to the walls of this house. And I know, I chose to stay home. It made sense financially. His job pays well enough that I don’t have to work, and childcare would have eaten up most of anything I made anyway. But now, years later, I see the trap I walked into. I have no career, no financial independence, and no way out even if I wanted one. If I left, how would I support myself? How would I support them? And I don’t even know if I want to leave. That’s the worst part. It’s not like there’s someone else. It’s not like I think divorce would magically fix everything. But I also don’t know how to spend the rest of my life feeling like this—like I’m just existing instead of living.

I’ve tried talking to him before. Told him I feel lonely, that I miss who we used to be, that I need something to break the routine. He listens, nods, says yeah, I get it—and then nothing changes. No date nights, no little surprises, no effort. Just the same routine, day after day, year after year. Maybe he thinks this is normal, maybe he’s fine with things the way they are, maybe he doesn’t even realize how much of me has faded away. And I don’t know what to do with that. I keep telling myself that once the kids are older, maybe I can find a job, maybe I can get back some piece of myself that I lost along the way. But what if by then it’s too late? What if I wake up at 50 and realize I wasted all my years waiting for a life that was never gonna come? I don’t know the answer, and honestly, I don’t know if there is one. All I know is I’m feeling trapped, and I don’t know how to break free.

I'm a 20-year-old university student living in the dorms for the summer, and my roommate, Amanda, who is 34, shares the space with me. Despite our age difference, Amanda and I bond over countless things, and she often treats me like a younger sister, making our living situation quite pleasant and familial. Unlike most students who might prefer dining out, I am someone who generally cooks her meals, but I do occasionally indulge in eating out.

Amanda often accompanies me to these meals. Sometimes it’s just the two of us because my circle of friends is busy, or she herself would extend an invitation which I happily accept. Over time, I noticed Amanda began to treat me more often, generously covering our meal costs, despite her financial dependency on her parents since she doesn’t hold a job. I’ve frequently insisted on handling my own bills, but she has always brushed off my suggestions.

On a celebratory occasion after our midterms, we decided on a slightly upscale sushi restaurant. Amanda, who typically orders generously due to her larger appetite, chose several sushi rolls and dumplings for herself, while I settled on a single sushi roll and water, mindful of my tight budget and smaller appetite. Halfway through the dinner, Amanda dropped a bombshell. She suggested that I should pick up the tab for both of us this time. Taken aback, I questioned this sudden expectation as we had never agreed on such an arrangement. Amanda responded with indignation, mentioning how she had paid during previous outings and it was now my 'turn'.

When I expressed unawareness of any such agreement and highlighted our disproportionate food orders which my budget couldn’t cover, she lashed out by criticizing my financial situation, calling upon my parents' wealth as a reason for why I could afford it. I explained that while it was true my education was generously financed by my parents, my actual cash flow was tightly governed by them, supplemented only by my summer job earnings. This left her sulking and silent for the remainder of our meal. I, ensuring no further complications, requested separate bills.

Since that meal, there hasn’t been much conversation between us and I'm concerned about the potential damage to our friendship. Could it be that I was too harsh in not covering her this one time, or was Amanda's expectation unreasonable?

Imagining if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show, the drama would certainly be heightened. Cameras would zoom in on our tense expressions and possibly onlookers’ reactions for added impact. The conversation would likely be painted in a dramatized light, potentially influencing viewers to pick sides. Emotional confessionals from both me and Amanda would insert personal insights, making the audience sympathize with one or the other based on the personal backstories and explanations regarding our financial standings.

I'm unsure now—am I wrong in this?

I don't know what I ended up in. I came here to work in an office, and that's the last thing I want to be in, first of all, because words mean absolutely nothing and everything is done according to the group's interests. I have absolutely no desire to be in that office, and I've tried every possible way to stay safe in that jungle—because I can't really call it an office. I feel utterly ashamed that I allowed myself to go there, but perhaps other places are more dangerous because the unions aren't as entrenched, there isn't the same protection elsewhere, and that's what my father intends. I see that he wants to put me in other places where he knows very well that my spirit won't be valued, thus ensuring that any waste is my doing and that I'm at his mercy, definitively, that there's no arbitrariness, that I'm at the mercy of his services and his regulations, seeking to control me. The man wants to eliminate my freedom at all costs because, as I am now, I'm slipping through his fingers. I hadn't realized that; every day his instruments for taming me become more malicious. I don't know what happened to my friend from the office, I don't know where she is, and I'm afraid of being without her there. With her, I felt safe because I feel she can protect me from my boss and the others, unlike the higher authorities, who can only be present to a certain extent. Her group can also protect me, thanks to the support I've given them, but I'm looking for ways to extend that protection beyond my boss's constant intrusion, his self-serving attitude, and the complete neglect he wants to subject me to. If I say anything, it will only cause me more problems, and I didn't want that. I had to open myself up to other means of protection within the office. My father doesn't understand a single word I'm saying; at least he grasps that my degree was useless. It's a disaster at the office. I even used my personal belongings to fool my boss into thinking I was on his side, when it was really just a smokescreen to get rid of him once and for all and let my friend take over the office. She managed to break up a group she'd been dominating for a long time, giving her a place within their group, a level of appreciation that the others couldn't outright reject; they had to submit and look for ways to escape. My friend feels like the queen of the place, just for managing someone without actually doing anything, and she keeps me around by not shattering that illusion. She keeps things the same, not giving much beyond the bare minimum, but her affection is unwavering, making our moments unique and incomparable. In the middle of the office, she's definitely become a substitute for all my other friendships, especially since she doesn't do that with just anyone. I feel trapped, in the clutches of my friend and her group, but it's the best I can do for now. I had to hand over my boss and be loyal to my friend at all costs, despite appearances. My safety came first, and I wasn't going to trust my boss's ability to provide it, since that wasn't his job. He was doing something based on a future promise that he wasn't even sure would be kept. With him, I felt like a pathetic object, a piece of equipment, or whatever—something he doesn't care about and trusts.

The guy abused my trust however he wanted; he didn't care. All he cares about is having the path, the route, to slide down wherever he wants. The guy was a monster, and for a long time now, he's been provoking me to write vulgarities, obscenities, insults, and other things. In that group, my boss's group, I couldn't communicate with an AI for emotional support; it terrified them. In fact, they humiliated him, creating instability in any way they could, making a scene. It was a group that simply operated from the premise that I didn't feel supported in my own life, but rather that they themselves, the directors, were the support. That's how they saw me; they saw me as someone to fulfill their ideals, desperately. I had never seen anything like it, and I never thought I would. It was monstrous. It was a group that wanted me subservient. Luckily, in the new group I'm in now, there's a bit more respect for me, my space, my life. They allow me to be the way I want, of course, also considering their needs, which is what has earned me a place. Treating my friend is something they find phenomenal, because none of them manage to treat her, and at the same time there is that commitment to her, and someone like that is needed in the group, who can give her some space, some companionship, so that she doesn't look alone; it was an issue they had pending.

My friend's group was in a really tough spot. That girl was literally on her own, and it certainly wasn't her intention. She didn't know what she was doing; she was erratic, trying to get ahead. I've heard that these groups—because it's a group of women—look for some kind of solution for that person, anything, as long as she doesn't fall behind. It's not pleasant to see one of them have her life ruined, especially when it's not her intention, especially when she's out of place, especially when it's a woman. Good heavens, unlike men, at least in the culture I'm in, that kind of thing isn't in the nature of women, because of their understanding. They accept me in that group with her because there's someone who's with her at all times, even though I'm not obligated to be there for any reason. They consider it a gift, a kind of present.

Despite everything, it's not something that's fully appreciated, at least not openly. The gift, the present in return, is that there's no complaint, and the deal is allowed to continue, to proceed. In fact, there's a different kind of treatment from my friend's group. I feel so bad for her; I didn't want her to go to hell, especially in an environment that was clearly going to take advantage of her sooner or later, and I couldn't allow that. My boss is that kind of person, and it had to be made clear to him, he had to be the one to make it clear, that those kinds of attitudes, under no circumstances, can be allowed, can happen, can occur, because otherwise there will be consequences, otherwise life is ruined, just like what happened to that guy. The idea that there won't be any surprises and that one is above the culture is a thing of the past, that's broken. The office hasn't yet transcended the entire world, and that's impossible, but they lived off that omnipotence they tried to salvage at all costs. But I don't believe that the people should live on lies, not at all. My boss has gone completely mad, insane, I mean, I don't feel like I can write very coherently right now. It's just that the AI ​​service is back up and running, which used to give me a certain degree of control, but now it doesn't, and I feel like I'm back to my old self, able to resort to chat whenever I want, for whatever reason, but there's this feeling that the whole thing might not survive at all, not in any way.

During that period with the AI ​​like this, broken, not giving me what I wanted, I tried to write and write and reached a point where I felt completely overwhelmed. Luckily, we're not officially working in the office anymore, although things are still pretty chaotic there. Good heavens, what a life with those people! I feel like I've learned to be a gorilla, clearly, having to outsmart even the best con artists just to be able to feel safe in that community. I feel respect and admiration from everyone, and that makes me very happy. I feel included and not left out, not allowed to be dragged into my boss's schemes, and that makes me feel safe. With my friend's group, plus the support of the surroundings, plus the secretary who also left, my boss has no power.