Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

you really would destroy others’ lives simply so you’re a little happier, huh? you don’t give a FUCK about how others feel unless its how they feel about YOU. don’t try and deny that. you’re not doing it to change, you’re doing it to make a change in our lives. you’re trying to uproot our lives so you can be the oh-so dramatic friend that is unpredictable. you think our lives are some GAME, don’t you? you think that because you had your big exit means we suddenly don’t give a fuck. BUT WE DO. nothing is changing that. you can say “oh please don’t be mad at me” all you want but if you’re hurting and destroying others who genuinely care about you so YOU can have brand new friends who your fuckass brother won’t complain about then maybe we have the right to be angry. fuck you.

2021. Everyone's locked up inside. Online classes and texts the only way i could spend any sort of time with my friends. So our social studies teacher decided to give us some homework. A group project. yuck.

I got assigned to a group of ppl i hadn't ever spoken to. Except for this one guy. He was this kid who'd joined our school in 5th grade and we'd spoken a couple of times. So we were talking about the project and soon drifted off to other things. We started texting each other every other day and things were fine. Then our school decided it was time to get kids back in their classrooms.

So after nearly half a year of texting i finally got to talk to him in person. Every now and then I'd look over to see what he was doing and well um. Turns out he was already looking at me. He tried to cover up for the fact that he was staring (and failed miserably) and somehow, it gave me butterflies .

That went on for a few weeks and he asked me if I liked anyone. And me being the idiot i am decided i was too scared to tell him bc i was so sure he didnt like me back and told him i liked his best friend (kmn). But thankfully he wasn't that stupid <3.

So just like that, we started dating. Just to give you a picture, he was tall, really cute, played basket ball and loved math (such a nerd). Our love language was basically staring at each other from across the classroom, and drawing infinities on our wrists (those meant more to me than hearts).

Our school was very conservative so holding hands under the desk was the craziest thing we could do. We never got to hug let alone kiss but holding his hand made me feel like i was flying. With most Indian parents, the only high school romance you could have was with your text books so we had to keep it a secret from them too.

Fast forward to valentine's day. Typical day except before leaving he told me to check my bag. I got home to find a pack of Hershey's kisses.

We used to lend each other books to read and slip letters between the pages. It was really cute :'>.

We were happy. I was thoroughly in love with this guy. It felt too good to be true.

And suddenly something broke. He became cold and distant. We didn't speak as much as we used to. I was worried sick and i didn't know how to help. When we finally sat down to have a talk he said it was family stuff that he couldn't talk to me about just yet, and i felt really guilty for not being understanding about his silence. But it had hurt a lot...

Few weeks later. It's sports day at school. He's talking to who i thought was my best friend ( more on that another time). He said he needed to talk so we went to a corner and he was nearly in tears. He started apologizing frantically. I assumed he was apologizing for not talking to me for so long...but it was something much worse.

He said he needed to breakup with me. NEEDED to.

In that moment, everything inside me went numb. I tried to say something but i choked on my own words. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry but there were too many people around. So i walked away.

I swore i wouldn't let myself cry there because i knew if i started i wouldn't stop. So i smiled and smiled and smiled. But I couldn't just leave like that now, could I?

It took everything in me to go back to him on the stairs. He asked me sit. So i asked him why he needed to break up with me and he said he wasn't able to focus on his studies. I was so naive I took his word for it. Only to find out 3 whole years later that the real reason was that it was too much for him. I'd been overwhelming this guy and hadn't even realized. I still don't know what I'd done to make him feel so pressurized....

Even after the break up I did the stupidest things. I hit a rebound with his friend and lied about it. He found out and of course he couldn't forgive me, I carried that guilt around for a year and a half only to realize that it didn't matter anymore. He was happy now. What more could i ask for? (sorry for making it so cheese but it is what it is...<3)

After completing my master’s degree and securing a promising career, I’ve come to a challenging crossroad involving my family. Throughout my educational journey, my parents didn't offer financial support. Despite living a lifestyle filled with vacations, new vehicles, and home upgrades, they insisted if I wanted higher education, the financial responsibility was entirely mine. This stance forced me to balance part-time work with student loans to afford my studies.

Years have passed, and now as retirement looms, my parents expect financial support from me due to their inadequate savings. Recently, my patience wore thin, and during a heated conversation, I expressed my frustration. I reminded them of their financial decisions during my struggles with education and told them they should have planned better for their retirement instead of indulging in luxuries. I made it clear that I am not their financial backup plan and that they need to sort out their retirement issues as I had to with my education.

My confrontation left my mom in tears; she claimed they had sacrificed a lot during my childhood, and now it seemed like I was abandoning them. My dad labeled me ungrateful and selfish, throwing in the guilt-laden reminder of their 18 years of upbringing. My siblings have joined the fray, labeling me heartless for not aiding our parents, pointing out that I am better off financially compared to them. Regardless, I feel that they need to face the consequences of their choices.

The situation escalated further when I declared I wouldn’t provide care for them in their old age, regardless of their financial or health status in the future. This stance has shocked my siblings, with some arguing that it’s too harsh, but I am resolved to maintain my decision.

Considering if my story were to unfold on a reality TV show, the viewer's reaction could be intensely polarized. Some might view me as cold and unforgiving, while others could see me as a symbol of tough love and personal boundaries. Reality TV thrives on conflict and dramatic emotional exchanges, so such a storyline might draw a considerable amount of attention and debate among viewers, potentially making it a central theme of the show.

Am I wrong for denying my parents financial support for their retirement?

I’m really needing to vent about my current relationship. We’ve been together for 2.5 years now, living together for 1.5 years. I am starting to lose hope in our relationship. When we first started dating we agreed to get engaged around 3 years together. He promised me he wouldn’t make me wait that long, 2.5 years at max. Well now we are at that mark and he hasn’t done anything to move it along. Ive mentioned it to him numerous times and I genuinely feel like if we make it to year 3 without that commitment then I’m throwing in the towel. At least moving out, if not completely ending the relationship. We are in our 30s and I have fertility issues as is. We are both steady in our careers and our families love us together and get along great. We have some money saved up as well. I want to have kids within the next 3 years and he says he does too. Additionally, my mother passed away five years ago and my father is passing from dementia. It would mean the world to me for my dad to at least be there when I’m engaged, which I have expressed to my partner. At this point it seems we’re on different pages. I really don’t want to start over with someone new but I feel like we don’t have the same priorities and it’s becoming so exhausting. I’m really looking for some advice because I feel so helpless…

A few months ago, I faced something I never thought I’d have to deal with—trying to comfort my best friend after she lost her mom. It was sudden, a heart attack, and it left everyone in her family completely shattered. I remember getting the phone call and just sitting there in shock. What do you even say when something like that happens?

When I went to see her the next day, I froze at the door. I had all these things running through my head, but none of them seemed right. “I’m sorry for your loss” felt too generic. “She’s in a better place” sounded hollow. And “let me know if you need anything” felt like something people just say, but never follow through on. I stood there for a good five minutes, rehearsing words in my head, and none of them felt like enough.

Finally, I rang the bell. When she opened the door, I could see how much pain she was in. Her eyes were red, her shoulders slumped, and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all. I panicked and blurted out, “I’m so sorry.” She nodded and let me in without saying much. The whole visit, I kept second-guessing myself. Should I talk about her mom? Should I stay quiet? Was I making her feel worse?

At one point, she started crying, and all I could think to do was sit beside her and let her cry. I didn’t say anything. I just put my arm around her. And you know what? She told me later that was exactly what she needed—someone to just be there without trying to fix it or say the "right" thing.

That experience taught me a lot about what to say to someone who lost a loved one—or rather, what not to say. I realized that people don’t need clichés or advice in those moments. They don’t want to hear “time heals all wounds” or “everything happens for a reason.” Those words might come from a good place, but they don’t really help when someone is drowning in grief. What they need is for you to acknowledge their pain and let them feel it without judgment.

Over the weeks that followed, I tried to be there for her in small ways. I checked in with her often, even if it was just a text saying, “Thinking of you today.” I didn’t expect her to reply, but I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. I also made sure to listen when she wanted to talk, even if she repeated the same stories about her mom over and over again. I learned that grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and people need to process it at their own pace.

One thing that really stood out to me was how much she appreciated when people shared memories of her mom. At the funeral, a mutual friend told a funny story about how her mom used to sneak extra candy into her kids’ stockings at Christmas, even though she’d pretend to be strict about sugar. My friend smiled—really smiled—for the first time that day. It was a reminder that her mom wasn’t just gone; she was still a part of all of us through those memories.

Now, when someone asks me what to say to someone who lost a loved one, I always tell them the same thing: don’t overthink it. It’s not about finding the perfect words; it’s about showing up and letting them know you care. Sometimes, saying “I’m here for you” and actually being there is more powerful than any other words.

Another thing I learned is that support doesn’t stop after the first few weeks. In the beginning, everyone rushes to offer condolences and bring meals, but as time goes on, people get busy with their own lives. That’s when the person grieving needs support the most. I made a point to invite my friend out for coffee or walks months after her mom’s passing, and she told me those little gestures made all the difference.

Looking back, I realize how much I’ve grown through this experience. I used to feel helpless and awkward around grief, but now I know it’s okay not to have all the answers. Sometimes, just saying “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you” is enough. It’s not about solving their pain—it’s about being a steady presence while they navigate through it.

If you’re reading this because you’re struggling with what to say to someone who lost a loved one, I hope this helps. Just remember, you don’t have to fix anything or make it better. Let them cry, let them talk, or just sit in silence with them if that’s what they need. Your presence alone speaks louder than any words ever could.

I've been obsessing about this for a long time.

Why? Why are we alive? Why give life when it's easily taken away?

I don't want to die, that's scary. But I know that it's because that I've been given life that I'm scared of it being taken away.

I still have a long way to get there, but sometimes, I think really hard about it and it gives me this ugly feeling in the chest.

I want to believe that there's something beyond death but I just can't do it. How do people not think about their short lives? How can they live not thinking about their inevitable death? Because it gives me pressure, it pressures me to HAVE to leave something on earh, something that proves that I was once alive, something like a big invention, to be famous, inspire people.

Please, someone, anyone, make living forever possible. I don't want to leave my life, I want to stay here, read everything that exists, do everything that it's possible to do. I don't want to leave incomplete, without those I love, without the things I like to do.

So I’ve posted about dropping my ex entirely and now that I’ve actually been trying to detach myself and eventually drop him, I’m still finding it hard. He’s treated me horribly but I’ve felt myself pitying him and I felt bad for him because of the things I’ve learned. The guy he used to date and still has feelings for id bet, doesn’t even like him as a friend anymore. Me and him (we are friends) were talking about our mutual ex and he even told me that he wishes I got out of that situation earlier because he knows what he’s like. But something about him losing everyone he cares about, makes me feel bad bc he’s running to me. But I know that it’s out of loneliness, not because he cares about me. Before anyone says I should ask him and be more understanding and compassionate towards him, he has assaulted me, taken shit out on me for situations that weren’t my fault, talked shit about me and was dumb enough to expose it, and left me during one of the worst times of my life. And yet I’m struggling to take the final step and block him and remove him for good.

My parents have a big heart for all of us, but it seems like they always give my brother, who isn't exactly the most successful, more breaks than the rest of us. He's nearly 30 and hasn't managed to stick to a stable career path; instead, he floats from one temporary gig to another, often in positions that require minimal skill and pay just as little.

Whenever I upgrade to a new car, I pass my old vehicles down to my parents instead of selling them. I’m fortunate enough to be in a financial position where I don't have to worry about the resale value. Typically, these cars are about six years old with around 30,000 miles on them as I don’t drive them much.

A while back, I gave my parents a fully-equipped Jeep Patriot that I could have sold for $9,000. Instead, I let my father have it for just $1. Six months later, he handed it over to my brother, who then sold it for $12,000. My intention was for my parents to benefit from a reliable car without the burden of upkeep, not for my brother to make a profit.

Recently, I purchased a new Broninus and decided to set a different rule for transferring my Ram to my parents. I proposed a contractual agreement stating that if they sold the car within five years, they would need to sell it back to me for $1. They reacted badly, accusing me of treating them like children and insisting they should be able to do whatever they wanted once it was theirs.

Seeing their point, I sold the Ram privately for $27,000 and used that to help pay for the Broninus. When my dad inquired about when I'd be delivering the truck, I informed him I had already sold it. Now, my parents are disappointed and stuck with their old, less reliable Kia. They feel like I've reneged on a promise, even though I never actually promised them the truck—just proposed a possible arrangement.

Honestly, it’s tough trying to help when it feels unappreciated or taken advantage of. It's frustrating when efforts to assist are twisted into expectations.

Imagine if this drama unfolded on a reality TV show; the dynamics and disputes would surely captivate an audience. Viewers might be split, with some sympathizing with my attempts to manage family expectations and others perhaps seeing me as overly controlling or stingy. The family deliberations, confrontations over the vehicles, and negotiations around the contracts would make for emotionally charged episodes, drawing viewers deeper into the familial tensions and ethical dilemmas.

“So you think being a lesbian is worse than being a rapist?“ was not something I wanted to hear in the first 10 minutes of class.

But I keep my head up, and laugh when something funny happens because what else can I do?

I can act like it doesn’t matter.

Who are you to me anyway?

But no one says anything

and the words keep coming like waves crashing onto the shore

“Who even cares about the LGBT community anyway?“

“Why are you so gay?“

“just put the boy or girl on the website, the other ones are too complicated“

Petty jokes that flaunt your obvious queerphobia like a trophy.

And I know the teachers are trying their best

But I’m so tired of them changing the subject

“Just let it go!“

“I’m okay with it, but sheesh.“

You get a slap on the wrist so they don’t have to actually deal with the problem

Everytime it gets okay enough for me to feel good for once

I get hit with something like “Homosexuality is a sin!“ or “isn’t it some sort of disease?“

which is so easy for someone straight like you to say

Who’s questioned skipping class because you can’t handle another trumpie telling you how to exist

Who’s never questioned who the right person to tell about your crush is because you don’t know how they’ll react

Who’s never had someone get up and run away from you after you told them about your sexuality

Who’s never had a friend say “I don’t talk to lesbians because I’m worried they’ll like me!“ behind your back.

No one’s blackmailed you for being straight.

No one’s said you’ve betrayed the opposite sex.

You’ve never spent a birthday party sitting next to some girl trying to convince you you’re too pretty for this “lifestyle.“

You’ve never sat there and taken all the comments and rude gestures while you talk to a person of the opposite sex because you’re too scared to tell them the truth.

You’re not sick.

You’re not a sinner.

And you don’t have to deal with the consequences of your actions

Because you have queer friends!

You get a free pass!

You were just kidding!

And everyone believes you.

What do they care?

It’s not about them anyway

I’ve spent too much time pretending not to hear you

or that you meant something else

I’m not asking for much

But you don’t need to look at at through the lense of your religion

You don’t need to look at us through the lense of being less

You just need to look at us the same way that you look at people

Your fellow humans

All I ask is too be humanized

Is that too much?

Uh hi, hoping this will send? I'm Robbie (dw it's a nickname) and go by he/him.

I just realised I don’t trust my therapist anymore, if I ever did.

My parents sent me to therapy for my self destructive coping mechanisms June last year, and even then we never even adressed my coping mechanisms. She (my therapist) once asked awkwardly if I was still doing those, and I wasn’t at the time, so I said so, and now I never mention relapses.

I’m afraid to tell her I’m depressed again since I only got out years of depression this April (cause I got myself outta an ensmeshed traumatising friendship) so it’s bad for me to be depressed again, to still have bad thoughts,

I’m afraid my therapist will judge me, more than she does already when for example i mention I’m a positive nihilist,

and I mean therapy was useful until April cause I always vented about that “friendship” and that helped but it doesn’t help anymore when my therapist brings up H. (the past friend) these days, feels like im being retraumatised when I hear their name.

Guess I should be thankful I even got a trans accepting therapist in the first place, I mean it was my therapist who convinced my parents to accept me as trans after all these years of them not accepting it. Ugh idk.

These days each session my therapist asks me how I feel, I say “fine if a bit stressed” she asks how I’m feeling about H., I move on swiftly and move onto the subject of what school drama I’ve been involved in recently makes me angry, give that I’m finally able to feel anger as a emotion for the first time in my life nowadays.

And look, I lie a lot, and my therapist doesn’t realise, I’m sure she realises some of it, but not all, not when it matters, and yes i suppose i should stop lying but I fear her judgement so much.

So yeah, these days I feel like I'm back 3 years, meaning that I'm navigating my mental issues all on my own, and luckily I'm doing so in much healthier ways than i did three years back, But still, it's lonely, and it feels unfair to me that i have a therapist, one that Ive had a year and a half and yet I dont feel able to address actual issues with her anymore. I feel i havent been able to address any actual issues with her ever since I cut ties with H. I mean, Maybe i was never really talking about myself, I was always talking about H. back then, H. was my life, and I suppose I never learnt to actually talk about my issues after H.

And now every session therapy feels like a waste of time, as I'm lying half the time, and otherwise talking about mundane stuff that i just bitch to my friends about anyways. And my therapists office is so far, it takes about 3 hours from my day each time i have a session even when the sessions are only 1 hour. And I've got such paranoia and fear about wasting time because of some of that trauma involving having been enmeshed with H.

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.

One day, our neighbor came over and mentioned he was thinking about trimming the trees between our properties since they mostly grew on his side. I was a bit surprised but told him that the trees were fine on our side. We liked the greenery and had a few families of cardinals living in the trees and bushes. I thanked him for bringing it up and he assured me that he’d trim them lightly. I emphasized that he didn't need to trim our side at all.

I thought I was saving my neighbor some money and trouble by not worrying about our side of the trees.

A week later, we came home to find the trees along our property line completely butchered. He had cut every bit of green off those poor trees. Now we have a clear view of his messy backyard, and we've lost the sound barrier for when he’s out there playing (badly) the guitar. The cardinals are gone; they probably found new nests elsewhere. To make things worse, our neighbor hired his friend’s kids to do the trimming, and they left a huge pile of branches and debris in our yard. Our neighbor knows we are recovering from a fire and lack the tools and vehicle to clean up the mess ourselves—nor should we have to.

He left our yard a mess and didn’t even offer to clean it up. It stayed that way for three weeks.

When the leaves started falling, I went out to rake. I'll admit I was PMSing and this is a bit immature, but each branch that was too big to fit in my leaf bag, I just tossed right over what was left of our living fence and back into his yard.

Yesterday, the neighbor texted my husband asking if we threw the branches over and complaining that he hurt his back and can’t get out there to pick them up. My husband got flustered and lied about kids running through the yards. I say, "FUCK THAT, YES, I threw those branches back into his yard." I know I could have handled this better, but honestly, I was really pissed that he cut down all our greenery after we asked him to leave it and then left a huge mess for us to clean up. So the branches were fine to leave in OUR yard, but he couldn’t possibly clean them up if they are in HIS yard. Am I the only one seeing it this way? I hate that I put my husband in this position, but I think it’s best to be honest. Plus, I think I’m totally right! Am I wrong here?

I wonder how people would react if this situation was on a reality show. Would viewers think I overreacted or would they side with me, understanding my frustration and the mess our neighbor left us with?

I don't remember a time when I liked myself. I guess to be more clear I don't remember a time when I didn't hate myself. I'm 34 now and ever since can remember I've hated being me.

Waking up in the morning is a constant disappointment because it means I didn't stop breathing. Even on the happiest of days I'm still always filled with dread, doubt, anxiety and self loathing. I understand what created this mindset, but unfortunately it's not something I can just pack up and hide in a dark corner of the attic.

I'm sorry, and I don't mean to throw a pity party but I'm just wondering if the day will ever come that I wake up and I'm happy that I'm still breathing?

In my line of work within a specific branch of government, we have a close-knit community. Among my colleagues is someone I'll refer to as Sara, who recently put me in a rather precarious situation. Sara and I have always had a decent working relationship, strictly professional, and she's known for her integrity.

Sara came to me with a request to help her secure a personal loan of $25,000. Her objective is to purchase a space to set up a store in her hometown, aiming to boost her husband’s financial stability.

Personally, I’ve managed to stay debt-free and cautious about any financial engagements. Trusting Sara wasn’t the issue, but the magnitude of the loan and its implications made me anxious. I expressed my reservations, telling her, “I understand this is crucial for you, but I’m not comfortable with the risk associated with cosigning such a substantial sum. It’s a serious financial commitment, and I’m not ready to undertake that risk.”

This response led Sara to become visibly upset and emotional. She retorted, “You don’t trust me? This store is our chance to secure our financial future! The bank won’t consider my husband because he doesn’t have a job right now. I really thought you could help me.”

Although I felt awful for declining, my stance was firm based on my own financial principles—something influenced by my admiration for financial guru, Dave Ramsey, and his skepticism towards debt.

Now, the atmosphere between Sara and me has grown tense, and she's scarcely conversing with me. The guilt for not aiding her does linger, yet I remain convinced that prioritizing my financial health was the right choice.

Was I wrong to refuse to cosign her loan?

Imagine if this scenario played out on a reality show. The cameras capturing every detail, the audience likely split in their sympathies. The pressures of public opinion could potentially sway my decision or make the fallout from my refusal even more dramatic. How would the audience react, watching these personal and financial dilemmas unfold in real time? Would they champion my cautious approach, or condemn it as unsympathetic?

Bro, I need to get outta here. Like, fr, the second I turn 18, I’m gone. I can’t take livin with my parents anymore, all the stupid rules, all the nagging, all the "under my roof, my rules" BS. Like, okay, I get it, I’m still a kid technically, but damn, let me breathe. Everytime I do anything, it's a problem. Why u always on ur phone? Why u sleep so late? Where u goin? Who u texting? Like, chill?? I just wanna live my own life without feelin like I gotta report my every move. And don’t even get me started on the whole “you’re not ready for the real world” speech. Like, okay?? And whose fault is that?? Maybe if they let me actually do stuff instead of controlling everything, I’d know how to handle myself. But nah, they just wanna keep me stuck here forever. Not happening.

Only problem is… I kinda have no clue how to actually move out. Like, I know I need money, that’s obv, but rent is stupid expensive, and I don’t even have a full-time job yet. Been tryna save from my part-time job, but bro, what’s that gonna get me? A month of rent maybe and then what? And then there’s bills, food, furniture—like, damn, why is existing so expensive?? I thought about gettin a roommate, but idk anyone tryna move out yet. Plus, I lowkey don’t wanna end up livin with some weirdo off the internet, but at this point, I might have to. I just need my own space. Even if it’s some tiny apartment, idc. Just as long as it’s mine. Cuz right now? I feel like I got zero freedom. Can’t go out late, can’t bring people over, can’t even eat what I want without my mom actin like I just committed a crime. Like damn, let me eat ramen at 2AM in peace.

So yeah, I know moving out won’t be easy. I know I’m probly gonna be broke for a while, probly gonna regret it the first time I gotta pay for toilet paper with my own money. But honestly? Still worth it. I’d rather struggle on my own than keep feeling like I’m trapped in a house that don’t even feel like mine. I just gotta figure out the money part, maybe get a second job, maybe find some cheap place in a bad neighborhood, idk. But I’ll figure it out. Cuz one thing I do know? I’m not stayin here any longer than I have to.