Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

Like the tittle I’m asking myself, what if I was born later in life? Back story my parents were both in high school when they had me. So life was interesting my mom graduated school early to be able to work, and my dad continued school to “make a better life for us”. I wished for a lot when I was young especially toys but even how much my parents and grandparents tried to make me happy, I still couldn’t feel content. And now I’m in my teens my parents broke up and married other people and now I have step siblings and cousins. And every day I live my life saying “what if I was them?” Being able to buy everything they want, having their parents be able to afford everything they could ever wish for? I’m jealous of them EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY for having ADULT parents. What if JUST what if I was them…?

this happened two years ago now, but I cannot look at her without sobbing. for some backstory, we were both teens when this happened, both females. we're gonna call her fay. well, fay had just gotten into a relationship and she loved her girlfriend. I was her best friend at the time, but fay wanted more, and she liked to remind me of this. she would always be all over me, touching me in ways that made me sooooooo uncomfortable. it got to a point I screamed in the middle of the mall in town that I'd call her girlfriend and she snatched my phone out of my hands and begged for me not to. well, she had forced me to shower with her and pulled my bathing suit top down. she also attempted to "get in my pants." WELL. fay started cheating on her girlfriend. and this happened many, many times. when I told said girlfriend, fay blamed an unaliving attempt on me because of her actions. I blocked her and had a panic attack nearly all night because I genuinely thought I had done something wrong. guess what? they're still together. now, fay is trying to be my friend again. she showed up to color guard auditions and I had to run away crying because she loves to take things I've loved: guard, instruments, names, clothing styles, music tastes, so on and so forth. what do I do? how do I keep distance, and how can I process everything? I don't know.

Hi! Let's call me Caralia.

SO! My best friend, let's call her Luna. Luna is a semi-badgirl. Bad homelife, drunk parents, tons of siblings, skips classes, gets referrals and tardies because she feels like it. Luna always self-harmed openly. But, we have many mutual friends.

Two weeks ago I told the trusted art teacher (quietly). Said art teacher reported it, so then the following weeks, Luna didn't return until next week. Nobody was aware I told. Today, Luna returned. PE class, I run up to greet her, but she pushed me away. I was confused until the popular girl, Willow, came up to me while I was changing into uniform.

Willow's little fanclub were trailing behind, recording and flashing their phones as i was packing up. "Hey Caralia!" Willow said with that fake-sweet smile. She immediately starts saying why did I tell, so to salvage my reputation I say, "It's not my business to tell what Luna does, and I think it was a teacher report." Luna looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Stop lying to my face, I had to go to a mental hospital because of you." Luna said to me. My gut literally dropped. That's where she'd been for a week. Coach enters the locker room, and checks up on me like, 'hey, what happened' so obviously I told her what happened. after Willow and her crew left, I start crying to one of my friends, telling her what happened. Willow magically spawned behind me when I heard a gasp. I look over, barely visible in my tearing eyes, Willow. Willow says i have to stop getting myself into these situations. and she kept on repeating that. Now a ton of my friends are avoiding me.

My partner always invalidate my feelings. He just brush it off whenever I start telling him of how he made me feel an outsider on our relationship and was never appreciated and cared for. I am so done!

I don’t know when exactly I started feeling like this, but lately, everything just feels heavy, like I am carrying a weight that nobody else can see, and no matter how much I try to shake it off, it just stays there. I wake up, go through the motions, smile when I need to, pretend everything is fine, but deep down, I keep wondering what the point of all this even is. What are the reasons to live when everything feels like too much? It is like my brain keeps whispering that nothing really matters, that I am just stuck in some cycle of existing without actually living. And maybe that is why I started thinking about reasons to live, because I know there have to be some, even if they feel impossible to see right now. The first reason, I guess, is that feelings are temporary. I have had bad days before, bad months even, and I got through them. I know I won’t always feel this way, even if my mind tries to tell me I will. The second reason is that there are still things I have not experienced, and I don’t want to leave without knowing what is out there. Maybe there is a city I have never been to that would make me feel alive in a way I never imagined. Maybe there is a song I have not heard yet that will give me chills or a book I will get lost in. Maybe there is a person I have not met yet who will change my whole life. And even if it takes time to find those things, I think they are worth waiting for. The third reason is the people who care about me, even if I sometimes convince myself they don’t. I know that if I disappeared, there would be people who would feel the weight of that forever, and I don’t want to be the reason someone else carries this kind of pain. The fourth reason is that I still have choices. As much as it feels like I am stuck, I know that life does not have to stay the same. If I hate my job, I can change it. If I feel lonely, I can try to reach out. If my life feels empty, I can fill it with new things. Nothing is set in stone, and that means there is always a way forward, even if I don’t see it yet. The fifth reason is that I have survived everything that has tried to break me so far, and that means I am stronger than I give myself credit for. If I made it through all the hard days before this, then maybe, just maybe, I can make it through this too. The sixth reason is that life is unpredictable, and while that can be terrifying, it also means that things can change in ways I never expect. A year from now, I could be in a completely different place, with different people, feeling completely different than I do now. And if there is even a small chance of that, then maybe I owe it to myself to stick around and see what happens. The seventh reason is that I don’t want my story to end like this. I don’t want this to be the final chapter. I don’t know what comes next, but I want to find out. Maybe the reasons to live aren’t always loud and obvious. Maybe they are just little things, like feeling the sun on my skin, drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, hearing my favorite song at the perfect moment. Maybe they are things I haven’t even thought of yet. But they are there, even when I can’t see them, and I am trying to hold onto them, even when everything in me wants to let go.

i don’t even kno how i got like this, but every day i wake up and the first thing i feel is just… hate. like, for myself. i look in the mirror and i can’t stand what i see. i’m not pretty, i’m not smart, i’m not anything. i try so hard at school and still i keep failing or messin up the easiest stuff. it’s embarrasin. teachers look at me like i’m stupid or lazy but i swear i try, like i really do. i study, i stay up late, i skip things i like just to focus but none of it works. and then i come home and it’s not better. my mom’s always mad at me, always yelling, sayin i don’t do enough, that i should be more like my cousin or my sister or whoever. like sorry i’m not good at anything okay?? my dad doesn’t say much but i can tell he’s disappointed too. he used to try to help with homework but now he just shakes his head and leaves the room. sometimes i wish i could just disappear for a while, like vanish and see if anyone even notices. i feel like a ghost in my own house. nobody listens to me. when i try to talk about how i feel it’s always “you’re being dramatic” or “you just want attention”. but i don’t. i just want someone to see me and say “you’re okay” and actually mean it.

i’ve lost friends too. like, i still talk to some ppl at school but i can tell they don’t really care. i get left out of stuff and when i ask to hang they got excuses. nd maybe it’s cuz i’m so negative or boring or whatever. maybe i talk too much about sad things. i try not to, but it leaks out, like i can’t help it. i laugh less than i used to. i cry more, mostly in my room, sometimes at night under the covers so no one hears. i write in my notes app stuff i could never say out loud. and yeah sometimes i think stuff i shouldn’t. like what if i just wasn’t here? would it be easier for everyone? i kno that’s a scary thought but it’s real. i don’t want to die, i just don’t wanna feel like this anymore. like i’m broken or wrong all the time. i see girls my age who are confident and smiley and got everything going and i feel like i’m just stuck. like i missed some class where everyone learned how to be normal and i wasn’t invited. nd yeah, ppl say “love urself” but how do you love someone who keeps messing up everything? who makes ppl angry just by being there? i hate myself so much and the worst part is i don’t even kno how to stop. i don’t kno how to be okay again, or if i ever was.

At 46 years old, I find myself in a pivotal phase of life, contemplating moving in with my partner of five years, a 57-year-old man. As my children from a previous marriage have recently moved out, the practicality of our living situations has become a topic of discussion.

My partner owns his home outright, while I'm still paying off a mortgage on mine. His house is larger, making it a sensible choice for us to move in together. The plan would involve me renting out my property, which should bring in about $600 each week.

However, when we discussed how to handle our finances together, he proposed that in addition to splitting all household bills and the cost of groceries, I should also give him 50% of the income I earn from renting out my home. While I understand and agree with sharing the bills, the idea of handing over half of my rental earnings didn't sit right with me, especially since he doesn't have a mortgage to worry about.

He explained his reasoning by stating that he wanted to prevent any feelings of being taken advantage of should our relationship end. His idea of fairness was a straight 50/50 split in all aspects, including income that I would generate independently from him.

To me, this arrangement feels disproportionally in his favor, almost like an 80/20 split. If I were to agree to his terms, I could be paying roughly $150 a week for rent in addition to covering half of all other living costs. Comparatively, I am only comfortable with contributing a maximum of $150 total per week for rent, bills, and groceries. Given that my income is around $75,000 annually, and his is about $85,000—half of which he earns from another rental property—it seems he is positioned to benefit far more from this arrangement than I am.

Imagining this scenario unfolding on a reality show, the audience might be split. Some viewers could sympathize with my hesitation and sense of unfairness, echoing that love shouldn't be so transactional. Others might side with my partner, advocating for his approach to protect his assets and maintain an equal footing in the relationship. No doubt, it would spark a heated debate among fans and critics alike, especially given the complexities of blending lives and assets in later life.

Am I unreasonable for resisting the idea of giving up half my rental income to him?

I’m 14- I’ll be 15 within the month, and I cant remember hardly anything of my childhood up until 14. I get that this is the time of edgy posting, with puberty and all that, no? But all I ask of you is to keep an open mind while you listen. I hope writing to you helps me recall.

But this has been bothering me in a way I can’t quite explain, an ache within me that tells me something is wrong. I feel like as a person, I only exist on the surface, an outer shell without a solid inner being. Or maybe it’s the other way around, like I’m buried in someone else? I don’t know where I am, but i’m not whole. I don’t know who I am, I do I know that’s still forming- normal at this age, but I feel like I was thrown into this body a year ago to pick up the pieces of someone who left without a trace. It’s so frustrating because WHERE DID THAT PERSON GO and why did they LEAVE me here. They’re not something I can prove, the only evidence I have of them is what people who knew them tell me.

But stay with me. The first time I felt awake or present as the me now was January 12th 2025, a MONTH ago, like I was shook from a daze. This might sound batshit insane to you, but remember what I’ve told you above. when my sibling made jest about part of my mother’s beating of me I didn’t even know took place, he asked, “You don’t remember?” I didn’t, but I *felt* it and was sure, like the flood the damn held crashed into me and swept me from my stagnant state. my heart began to race- head light and breath hard to find, panic, I needed to excuse myself. It took me days, but when I broke down, i finally felt like a breathing human again, for something I hardly think happened to me- like I recovered a piece of an otherwise blank slate (the beatings do not go on to this day, we have a good relationship). I journaled comprehensively about it. That was the first time I’ve felt connected to… something? I remember telling someone that I felt weird after that day, like a different person, that hasn’t gone away. But being able to remember something makes me realize how much I can’t remember, and that drives me insane. I try to remember why I still do things I do, what’s influences it, why I’m so anxious about people finding something out about me (that I don’t even know ?), so conscious about the words I use to formulate my thoughts, why they take so long for me to express, why I care about people, why I was too depressed to get out of bed a few months ago or to even hold friendships with people- and how all that just changed with a snap? That isn’t how it works. That’s what makes it even harder to trust myself as I am now. People ask me questions about myself, about an integral part of me, and I stare into space without finding a single answer. It makes me feel like I’m not real.

I’ve stumbled upon an old video of me today, one I had no recollection of, happily squealing in play with my family in our old apartment- and it sent me into a panic like the one before, it’s what got me to write this to you. There was nothing wrong with the content, but I’ve discovered it might be because I couldn’t identify that person as *me*, or seeing that apartment again paralyzed me with indescribable fear- and in tandem made me feel I was losing hold on myself again.

Enough of me. If you made it this far, I implore your perspective on the matter. How can I find what I’ve lost? Or center myself right again as this foreign person? Please leave your thoughts below if you have any- if you relate, or just wanna comment, I appreciate any of it.

Thank you -Anonymous scourge fan

My wife and I often travel with a couple who are close friends of ours, along with our kids who are around the same age. Since our financial situation allows us a bit more leeway, I typically cover the costs without much thought—until a recent incident!

During a trip, we all decided to dine at a seafood place. My wife and I chose moderately priced dishes from the lower end of the menu, and we let our kids pick from the children’s menu. However, our friends decided to order the priciest items available and didn’t stop there; they added a heap of extra sides, several beers, and as the meal was winding down, broached the topic of dessert. Feeling overwhelmed by the amount of food already ordered, I mentioned perhaps skipping dessert since there was plenty left over. I even had the waitress pack some of it up to take home.

Making a light-hearted comment to my wife about the excessive amount of food, my friend suddenly asked to speak with me privately. He confronted me, suggesting I was trying to embarrass him by refusing dessert and making my earlier comment. He felt insulted, claiming I treated him as if he needed permission to order what he wanted. I explained that his ordering felt inconsiderate of our generosity, which only seemed to upset him more, leading to his declaration that he no longer wished to join us on outings.

Was I really in the wrong here?

Imagine how this situation could escalate on a reality TV show. Cameras would zoom in as tension builds at the table, capturing every discontented glance and muttered remark. The dramatic aside with my friend would likely be a heated scene, amplified by tense music, possibly leading viewers to passionately take sides. The episode would close leaving viewers eager to find out if the friendship survives the fallout or if pride will prevent reconciliation.

For the past three years, I've had no contact with my mother due to several deep-seated issues between us. The situation escalated when I discovered she had misappropriated $15,000 from me and incurred over $45,000 in debts under my name using my social security number. Throughout my life, she was emotionally manipulative, and she even attempted to sabotage my relationship with my now-husband before our marriage. For these reasons, among others, I made the decision not to invite her to my destination wedding.

The wedding day arrived, and about an hour before the ceremony, my maid of honor informed me that my mother had unexpectedly appeared, having travelled all the way across the country to attend without an invitation. I asked my maid of honor to escort her to my bridal suite so I could speak with her privately. During our conversation, I firmly explained that she would need to leave or I would cause a scene and embarrass her in front of the entire family. Despite her tearful pleas and attempts to manipulate the conversation, she ultimately agreed to leave.

Following the ceremony, several relatives approached me, expressing their displeasure over my actions. They argued that I should have allowed her to stay, claiming that she only wanted to witness her first daughter's marriage. I knew better; her presence was merely an attempt to regain control over my life. Since then, her side of the family has bombarded my phone with messages declaring that my husband and I are in the wrong and demanding an apology from us.

If this tense and emotional scenario were to unfold on a reality show, I can only imagine the heightened drama and public opinion that would surround it. Cameras capturing every tear and harsh word would likely polarize viewers, some sympathizing with my need to protect my peace on my wedding day, and others vilifying me for rejecting a parent, regardless of our fraught history. The heated discussions it would provoke among the fanbase could very well dominate social media, with team hashtags and all sort of debates.

Am I really so unreasonable as my family claims?

So about 3 weeks ago me and my friend and I decided to go to a pool hall well I was already in my pajama pants and a jacket (what I usually wear at night time) the pajama pants are like a extremly plush fuzzy material and the jacket was a super soft fleece I just simply enjoy being comfortable when im at home lol reason im going into detail about what I was wearing is because when we got too the pool hall everything was cool for a couple hours until my friend started talking smack to some guy well the guy pushes my friend and when he did I jumped between them and when I did my pool stick fell out of my hands and was laying on the ground. Well when I stepped between them I just so happened to be standing over the pool stick and 2 guys picked the pool stick up at the same time and racked yanked up hitting me dead in the middle of my balls I remember feeling the stick literally splitting my balls in half I remember looking down and seeing the fuzzy pants and the outline of my balls around the stick and the guy that was behind me rubbed my shoulder and said "you got a nice soft jacket on oh and your pants look soft too" and when he said that he reached down and twisted my dick while the pool stick was still between my legs i remember moaning extremly loud and grunting while he twisted and squeezed also at the same time yanking the pool stick up higher into my balls he finally let go and I dropped too my knees instantly I was extremly sore for about 3 days and my girl friend is extremly sexual and is still asking why I didnt wanna have sex for that week and she loves my pants and jacket i really dont know how too explain this to her

I feel like every guy that i talk to see me as like their last option.I mean i do not have any complaints about my looks or anything but idk why sometimes i feel desperate for pure love and affection and nobody has ever looked at me in that way even tho i feel like im averagely pretty idk.

Sorry if I sounded too blunt or rude. Anyways, this is a bit of an extension, but I have some questions. Do you guys hate neurotypicals? Do you guys hate all weird sounds or touch or smells? If I say something rude to you on accident in the moment will you leave me and be forever angry? Do you take everything very personally? Is it okay for me to focus on your needs more than mine and always be what you want? Does your mental disability excuse what wrong things you do, because I feel that as a NT, I should tolerate such behaviors I find annoying or uncomfortable because in the end, I'm a dumb neurotypical next to a person who is from a group who's been heavily stigmatized and abused for years, so maybe me getting hurt is alright. Do you guys always hate NT people's interests? Should I mask myself for you because if autistic people mask it's not good but if neurotypicals mask it's okay because they're not mentally ill? Should I feel like I'm walking on eggshells and inflating myself from anxiety I may hurt you in horrible ways? Should I change myself so you can feel comfortable, because if you change it's bad because autistic folks masking is bad, but if I do it it's good? Do you guys hate physical touch? When you have a meltdown, do you guys want everyone out of the room, and during meltdowns do you have every right to say mean things to me? Trust me, at 13, sometimes I feel like a rude jerk, and maybe that's why I don't have friends. During meltdowns, can you guys hit or yell at me? During meltdowns can you throw objects around? During meltdowns, should I stay quiet and leave the room? And when we're together, should I always choose to stay quiet? Because I heard that selective mutism can help in these cases? I feel if an NT person gets hurt or bruised, it doesn't count as bad because we're not disabled, we're very much okay and healthy and maybe just stronger, but if it's you maybe it hurts a lot. Maybe this full question is dumb, like me.

On January 21, 2025, I came home from school overcome with anxiety. I only slept two hours the previous night to make time to finish schoolwork, and my inability to think coherently caused a flurry of irrational thoughts I couldn't understand. All I knew was that they surrounded the unusual behavior my close friend Kennedy displayed at school that day: she was avoiding eye contact with me, her reactions were slower, and she seemed so out of it.

I am 16f, and I have this close friend who I've only known for three months but connected deeply with because of the past painful experiences we shared and our identical issues. We both secretly admired each other for the past five years or so, hanging out with different people in the same classroom and a few years in the same friend group, but we never dared to approach the other because we simultaneously thought the other person didn't hold interest.

She was the one to initiate things in the October of last year, in a time when I wasn't stable mentally and had pretty much given up all notion of social interaction and friendships because of my apathy. I saw her "HMM WYD" text and felt so bewildered in the midst of my inner struggles that I might've feel into an extreme denial of her intentions. I acted like a bully to her for a while because of that. Or to be more precise, like a tsundere LOL

But she was so persistent and vocal about her fondness for me that I found myself acting in a way different from my usual emotionless and inexpressive self. To say the least, she saved me.

But then last week, she opened up about the dark thoughts she has and how her family sees her as someone with a "mental problem." Since then she admitted to me yesterday that she has been experiencing a strange uncomfortable feeling, that she "used to like me to such an extent" but that something changed inside of her regarding her feelings towards me. She said she didn't know why. She said it wasn't my fault she was feeling that way.

I miss her so much.

How wrong is it to want to write a book about your family without making it obvious?