Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

So, here's the deal. I'm 16, and I've got this father who just doesn't get it. He's like this invisible anchor, dragging me down. You know that feeling when you study hard for an exam or practice for hours on the field, and all you want is a simple "good job"? Yeah, that's never happening; not in my house. It's almost like a game for him. Whenever I ace a test or make a fantastic play during a game, he's right there, telling me how I could have done better. Like, "You got 98%? Where's the other 2%?" or "Great goal, but you almost missed it." I mean, come on, does he ever just chill? 🏆

I try to stay positive, keep my head up and all that, but man, it's like he's constantly moving the goalpost. It's like no matter how fast you swim, the other side of the pool just keeps getting farther away. I feel like I'm living in this hyper-competitive video game where the other player is unbeatable because they control the settings. "You can always do better, son," is practically his motto, but where does it end? Ever tried telling someone how you feel, only to have them twist it around until you're the bad guy? That's my dad. It's a psychological basic that unmet validation can lead to self-doubt, and oh boy, do I have a PhD in self-doubt. But does he acknowledge it, even when there are studies backing it up? Like I’m the one with the emotional IQ problem here.

But, you know what? I refuse to play his game forever. I've read tons of stories about people who’ve risen above similar situations. Mind over matter, right? I’ve started keeping a journal where I jot down my accomplishments, the things that I’m proud of; and—believe it or not—it actually helps. It's this odd sort of mental hack, I suppose. Almost like I'm training myself to be resilient, you know? Some say, "This too shall pass," and I’m beginning to believe it. Have you ever felt that little spark of hope that insists things will change? It's like having a secret weapon, and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to push through. So, tell me, have you ever felt trapped in a cycle that's beyond your control? How'd you break free? Because I’m all ears for stories of hope and resilience.

Hi, so I'm here as a highschool student. I've always had an obsession towards my grades to the point if it fell below 80 I would break down crying and overthink about my future, I'm aware of the unhealthiness of obsessing over a grading system but it's been apart of me since 7th grade. When I first got my high ranking in middle school, I finally made my parents proud for once, I was usually met with resigned expression on their faces and sometimes disappointment, but here? They were happy I liked the look on their faces, my parents had always been emotionally unavailable so when I saw it I actually felt like I could do something for once. Now back to now my grades have been dropping drastically even after I studied till 3-4 AM. Every score I see the more I cry because it didn't the goal I set for myself, my parents always told me it's fine, but... that empty look on their faces the resigned expressions it made me panic and go into a spiral, especially with the expectations I've built up in 3 years. I got into student council, became an event organizer, I joined an English Speech club and I'm even taking foreign languages classes. My classes ends at 3 PM, making my free time almost nonexistent it's gotten so bad that I feel guilty when I actually have free time because I could've used that time to do something useful, I'm tired. And I'm also worrying about my family's finances... and I guess... that's it thanks.

Last Saturday evening was supposed to be a vibrant outing with my wife, Sarah, and our close friend, who recently relocated to our town. Eager for some fun after recuperating from a cold, Sarah was particularly excited about the concert. I took up the responsibility of driving, which restricted me to just one beer, while Sarah and our friend didn't hold back on their drinking as the night progressed.

Throughout the evening, I noticed Sarah increasingly enjoying her drinks, though she seemed to become excessively intoxicated. I hesitated to intervene, seeing how much fun she was having. As the concert wound down, Sarah excused herself to the restroom. The show ended, and our friend and I waited outside for her. After about 20 minutes, with no sign of her return and her phone going unanswered, panic set in.

Seeking help, we asked people coming from the restrooms if they had seen Sarah, sharing her photo for identification. A concerned individual reported seeing her passed out in one of the stalls, convulsed in vomit. My anxiety skyrocketed at this shocking news. Venue staff were notified and suggested the immediate need for an ambulance. Without a second thought, I consented, worried about potential alcohol poisoning or other dangers like a spiked drink.

Emergency services arrived swiftly and transported Sarah to the hospital. I followed and was relieved when, after a few hours, she regained consciousness. The doctors assured us she was overtly intoxicated but otherwise okay. Reflecting on the incident the following day, Sarah seemed to find humor in the situation but believed my decision to call the ambulance was an overreaction, describing the ordeal as traumatic and embarrassing.

I tried explaining my actions were out of sheer concern, prompted by the advice from the venue staff, and the fear of her potentially choking in her condition. Several days have passed, and she still contends that the ambulance call was unnecessary. With our health insurance covering the cost, the decision wasn't financially burdening, yet I'm left wondering if my response was indeed excessive.

Considering this scenario, imagine the intrigue if this ordeal unfolded on a reality TV show. Cameras rolling as the drama and subsequent emergency unfold could drastically magnify the reactions of the audience and participants alike. Would viewers perceive my actions as a deeply concerned husband or an over-reactive partner? The boundaries of privacy and empathy are surely tested in the glare of public scrutiny on reality television.

Was calling an ambulance for my unconscious wife excessive?

My friend Hannah recently moved into her own place, becoming the first among us to do so. Naturally, she was eager to turn her new space into our regular hangout spot. To kick things off, Hannah organized a chilled get-together last Friday, inviting just our closest friends and a few of her relatives.

The night was a blast, but as it often happens, a few of us—including myself—had a bit too much to drink. At some point during the evening, I ended up spilling my red wine on one of Hannah’s decorative pillows. Despite my best efforts to clean it, the stain wouldn't come out. Feeling guilty, I offered to replace the pillow. Hannah directed me to the online store where she’d bought it, only for me to discover it cost a whopping SEVENTY DOLLARS. I agreed to replace it but mentioned I might need to wait until my next paycheck since the cost was a bit steep for me.

The following day, I joined some friends on a thrift shopping spree for Halloween outfits. Even though I already had my costume ready, I went along for the fun of it. It seemed fate was on my side when I stumbled upon the exact same pillow Hannah owned, complete with the original store tag, but for only twelve dollars at the thrift shop! Thrilled at the find, I bought it immediately, thinking this could resolve the pillow issue faster than anticipated.

Later that day, we swung by Hannah’s to show off our Halloween finds. I gave her the pillow, expecting her to be excited. Initially, she was thrilled, but her mood shifted when she inquired how I could afford it so suddenly. I explained the lucky thrift store find, but instead of being pleased, Hannah tossed the pillow at me in disgust. Despite our habit of thrifting, she confessed she never buys soft furnishings from thrift stores for hygiene reasons. I offered to wash it thoroughly, but she refused and insisted I purchase a new one from the original expensive store. I pushed back, arguing that washing the thrifted pillow was the best compromise, but Hannah wouldn’t budge, stressing that the original mishap was my fault and accusing me of being too careless.

Things escalated quickly, with Hannah calling me out for not taking responsibility, and in the heat of the moment, I criticized her for making such a big deal over a minor accident. I left soon after, feeling the tension rise. Now, our friends are divided over the issue. One of them even mentioned a new group chat named “The Pillow Crisis of 2024” where everyone is debating who's right in this conflict.

I did end up washing the pillow and handed it to a mutual friend to pass back to Hannah, but I heard she refused to use it and it’s now relegated to a corner as a floor cushion. This whole ordeal leaves me questioning if I was really at fault.

Imagine if this entire debacle unfolded on a reality TV show. The cameras capturing every eye-roll and the dramatic toss of the pillow. Viewers would likely be glued to their screens, picking sides, and firing up social media with comments and memes. In the dramatic world of reality TV, such a trivial dispute could become a sensational episode, sparking reactions from laughter to disbelief over the magnitude of the fallout over a single pillow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My journey all started when I got knee surgery for my meniscus tear. In this story my empire was destroyed only to be rebuilt with unstable ruble.

I was an active person before my injury working out 14 hours a week and eating a well balanced diet, I got at least 8 or more hours of sleep each night. I also had all A’s in my classes and a wonderful group of friends. Overall my life was stable and perfect in all aspects. When I tore my meniscus and got the surgery I was still resilient and hopeful for a couple months after. I went to physical therapy every week and was progressing more than the average person would. It wasn’t until March that the downers of life started catching up to me. I was starting to get burnt out from school since I had to make up for the weeks I was recovering. I also felt more depressed. At the end of the school year things really lightened up. I got on an antidepressant called sertraline, However I never took the medication because I had the idea that it would mess with me. Day after day I skipped my medication and it finally became summer break. And not even a week into summer break I just broke down. Apparently my mind was on its last stilt and just fell and all the stress came crashing down with it. I started having symptoms like mood swings and suicidal thoughts. So my psychiatrist put me on abilify to stabilize my mood because it switched often. My mood swings were from crying to feeling like I was the coolest person on the planet, this would happen a couple times a day. I soon had my first visit to a mental hospitable due to suicidal actions. Once I finished my stay my psychiatrist took me off sertraline and put me on cymbalta. I actually took cymbalta, however another symptom showed up and I started to have extreme anxiety at the start of July. Everything seemed like they were trying to keep me in this dream called life and the only way I could end it was by killing myself. I also started to take substances like nutmeg and LSA. I felt really unstable in life. I then started a php program that was short lived before going to the mental hospital for my second stay. At the mental hospital I started prazosin and trazodone. I was also diagnosed with derealization and depersonalization By August things started to get better but I started to notice I couldn’t control my actions and impulses as well anymore, I didn’t feel like I was my usual stable self anymore. In an attempt to get a thrill and escape I took a plant called Datura on five different occasions. The drug put me into a place of delirium that felt confusing yet safe. Soon my parents found out and stopped me from taking it again. I was still struggling till the middle of September. I took 62 pills of benadryl to get the same delirium I had on Datura. I continued taking benadryl till my parents noticed my pupils dilated. Then the next day they sent me to the mental hospital again. When I got out I continued life, still struggling. I also seemed to gain 90 pounds in three months. My psychiatrist was at the point where they were about to diagnose me with Borderline personality disorder. However me and my family decided to send me to a residential school in California before anything could happen and take off the school semester. At the residential we found out that I had Hypothyroidism and was put on lamictal and thyroxine. After staying at the residence for 2 months I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. When I got home I was put into a php where at some point I ended up eating a benadryl ointment cream as a last resort to get that delirium. The next day it was found out cause I was acting weird. Thankfully they didn’t send me to the mental hospital. I soon finished php and moved on to Iop. This was the time school started. In the first week of school I decided to drink 300mg of caffeine a night to see what happens and then decided to not sleep for three days due to nightmares. At this point I was starting to go into a psychosis believing I was meant to be schizophrenic in my next life so I should kill myself. The world also started to glitch and I felt Euphoric as hell. However, I decided to sleep on Thursday to Saturday and then decided to try staying up for 5 days on Sunday. I am now finishing night two while writing this. All being said, I truly hate myself right now. My feelings for myself switch from feeling like I am superior to everyone to feeling like I am unlovable and I hate myself. I honestly hate my personality so much to the point I want to actually commit suicide. I don’t know if this is a personality disorder or if I am just actually stupid or crazy. I used to have this stable personality but now my personality is reckless and moody. If anybody relates to this please tell me because I don’t want to be alone in this. (I'm not necessarily looking for a diagnosis I am just looking for others experience similar to mine)

I recently joined a playgroup that my sister recommended, where parents and their daughters, aged between six and eight, gather to socialize. Although all of us are in our thirties and forties, our financial situations differ significantly. My husband is typically the higher earner among the group, having a demanding job that compensates well. While none of the families seem outwardly distressed about financial matters, there's an unspoken acknowledgment of our varying budgets. No issues had surfaced over the past two years until an incident involving a seemingly innocent purchase of purses.

During one of these gatherings, I noticed that all the little girls, except for my younger daughter, were flaunting new purses. I was conflicted about purchasing one for her since she's slightly younger than the rest, yet I didn't want her to feel excluded. To resolve this, I decided to buy matching designer crossbody bags for both of us. My daughter was thrilled to have a bag just like mine, something that made her incredibly happy without understanding the brand's value.

However, the reaction I received later was unexpected. Once we returned home, I received a flood of messages on our playgroup chat. Apparently, my choice of expensive bags was perceived as a show of wealth, which upset some parents, particularly After one mum revealed her daughter now wanted a similar expensive purse for her upcoming birthday—a request they couldn't afford. My intention was never to make anyone feel less, but it seems I inadvertently did.

Reflecting on this, I can't help but think about the implications of such actions. What if this scenario played out on a reality TV show? One could imagine the drama and the mixed reactions from an audience watching manipulated narratives and competitive parenting unfold, sparking widespread discussion about socioeconomic issues, parenting styles, and the innocence of children caught in adult conflicts.

So, considering all these viewpoints, am I really the one at fault here?

Every single time i go shopping online , i end up buying nothing. Something like paralysis on analysis. When i take help from a family member, he end up buying even more disappointing deal cause he dont have patience . Family members who have patience don't know how to shop online. I am student with hectic study schedule, exams,deadlines . I barely get time to sleep. And being from middle class i dont have luxury to buy what ever i want without looking at price. I have to go through a lot of options for best price before actually buying . Its frustrating.

Hi, this is going to be long, just please listen to me. i am a 14 year old girl living in the midwest. and ever since Kindergarden or before, I cant remember, I have had shit experience after shit experience. i started in kindergarten at a catholic private school my brother was going to. since he has ADHD and autistic features, he's almost favored, and of course he's treated like shit by the religious kids. and since I'm related to him, I get bullied too. even by the teachers, I question my faith and why god makes my life so miserable using his other followers? i get pushed down and screamed at by the teacher. i end up becoming violent. i eat other kids skin. its embarrassing. we leave after a year because "there were no accommodations for my brother" but I knew it was because me and him were being bullied. while my parents fight and my mom goes numb, I start first grade at a public school. i change 100% to a new personality, being dumber, kinder, and a bigger crybaby. i get bullied behind my back, and I never tell a soul. at one point a boy follows me around and stares at my crotch and boobs whenever I'm near him, doesn't even try to hide it. and another boy gropes my ass one day and tries to play it off as a joke. were fucking children. and when I get to 4th grade, I meet someone I want to become friends with, he was tall, cool, and quiet, who I wanted to be! then he starts beating me, threatening me, and he had access to guns and my home address. he tries to choke me out, tries to break my bones, says he will break into my home slit my throat and steal my dogs. and the bystander effect kicks in, my best friend, the girl who introduced me to him just watches, not caring. even the teachers don't care. next year covid hits and I'm stuck at home, happy. until my brother complains and whines and we go into school. starting my 6th grade. i go back to being made fun of, and its almost normal. until 7th grade. i reunite with the old best friend and she invites me to sit at her table, lo and behold, there's my abuser. he stops hurting me, but keeps the threats up, shows me a video of a spinning dick and such. i start dating that old best friend (like an idiot) and it turns polyamorous with a girl I didn't like, I didn't like the bestie either. rumors about me spread, I break up with them, my other bestie talks shit about me with 2 girls I looked up to and her BF cheats on her with 9 girls and my male abuser. and I move to another lunch table. its normal, I have comfort, a girl I knew since elementary was there, 2 of them. one is amazing, the other disappears one day. sending everyone at the table other than me and a guy an email saying we told her to kill herself (we didn't) and she never shows up again. nobody believed the rumor, that's when I realized what trust was. i get to high school, which is this year. i join the DND club and the yearbook team, I make new friends. i thought I was doing everything right, so far its only one toxic older friend who calls me slurs and says I'm too annoying but just a freshman, I get sexually harassed again by my brothers best friend and chased down a hallway by him asking me how much I would cost THE DAY BEFORE HOMECOMING. and the morning after HOCO, yes, like a goddamn sandwich of trauma and fun, my parents get a goddamn divorce. which was in October. its Christmas now. I'm in my closet at my dads place, in a fort I built, making my amazon Christmas list like a goddamn child. I'm dating the other girl I knew since elementary at good lunch table now. I'm numb, I have multiple personalities for each person, since I'm in so many fandoms and I cant get any fucking commitment to anyone I just make up my personality. I'm not loud, I'm not quiet, I'm not weird, I'm not normal. I'm here, I used to cut myself too, scratch my skin off and bite myself. sometimes it still feels like he's choking me. (the most help I ever got was the middle school counselor expelling the abuser from the middle school and talking to my friends about the drama. my parents only know about what happened In middle school, everyone I know, even my brother, think I'm an overdramatic bitch who needs to get ADHD meds even though I'm not diagnosed with anything.) so please, if anyone reads this, know if I'm here through all this, you can survive too. I'm out there, find me.

It's more of a religious conflict within myself.

I grew up Jewish... But not Jewish. My adopted family is Jewish. But I never felt Jewish. My mom was Jewish, but we only celebrated... Loosely, Hanukkah until I turned 12. Then I asked to stop cause buying and receiving gifts was too forking stressful! Also, birthdays and any gift-giving days stopped, but that's another topic for another day.

Anyway, I like to think I'm interested in all religions and no religions at the same time. It's hard to put my finger on it. I live with my cousins now, after my mom's passing. They're more Jewish than any Jewish people I lived near in my old life/old neighborhood.

I didn't know any holidays except for Hanukkah... And honestly... I still only know Hanukkah, cause there's many Jewish holidays that confuse me. All I remember is that Jewish Challah bread is so forking tasty! Cinnamon and honey challah bread is SO FORKING YUMMY🤤! And I usually HATE cinnamon... But in challah bread... Give me all of it😋!! I also like the apples and honey holiday... Cause there's apples and honey🍎🍯! I don't really like Jewish pastries... No offense to any Jewish people... Jam ain't my thing🫠.

Also, my cousin says that one of the differences between Judaism and Christianity is that Jewish people cannot be forgiven from sinning by only God. If a Jewish person sins to God, they are forgiven, cause God is understanding. But if a Jewish person sins against another fellow human, God only forgives if the person you sinned to has forgiven you. And therefore, there is no way out of saying, "I have sinned, I have shared my sin with God, he shall forgive me" even if the original sin was cause by the sinner who has done wrong by his fellow man/woman/person.

But based on Christianity, I like the easiness that it feels to feel somewhat absolved of sins based on the fact that one shares their sins with God and they themselves feel sorry. But I still like the fact that there's more restrictions on Judaism, cause it puts more responsibility on humans rather than having God shoulder everything... God's got a lot on his hypothetical shoulders man!

Also, is God in the form of a man still? Or is God an entity? Energy? Or simply a safe feeling? That guy feeling saying... Don't go into that "haunted house" or don't drink spoiled milk, even if you think it smells fine.

Some people maybe believe in multiple Gods. I also like to believe in such things, as well as the singl God that most people believe in. It also makes sense to think that God's can be it's own entity, like the clean stream, or a mighty tree that's stood for centuries! It's interesting who one would worship something that isn't forever, but super long lasting.

I also like some of the ideas of Buddhism. How there are a few Gods that make people feel safer. I personally feel the best when thinking of setting up an alter. I haven't set up one yet, cause I'm waiting to move outta the rental home. But again... I really like the 3 main Gods... And I like the God's that represent Protection, Peace, and Health. I understand that some might not understand, and that's okay... Heck... I'm just learning about Buddhism only last month! But it's fascinating!

Who says mixing different religions is wrong? I'd totally love to put different items around my home for different religions. And no disrespect... It's because I respect and admire these religions that makes me wanna partake.

I also really like the idea of believing and worshiping ancestors... Cause they've done a sh*t-ton of stuff for us to be where we are now... Why not respect them with an alter or at least a nice photograph to show respect?

I've also dabbled in spirituality. As sage, candles, and crystals also seem to make me feel a little better. Maybe not physically, but on a somewhat psychological level. The idea of safety that such actions bring. With words like "cleansing" and "positive energy". All those things factor into why I like stuff like that too.

I even enjoyed learning, but not partaking in Hispanic deities. They're fascinating! There was one... Or maybe two... I can't remember... That favored non-violent peace vs peace brought by violence. Of course they weren't as popular as the more stereotypical tough God's... But I still respect all those God's... Though personally... Human and animal sacrifices was a bit much for my liking... But hey, if it made them feel like they were safe... Who am ai to judge... Even though I personally don't condone violence.

I also liked learning about the Greek Gods and thought it would be nice to make an alter for one or two of the God's... Of course once I do more research to make sure the God's I choose got along with each other... Cause who'd wanna be worshipped with your arch nemesis😬!? I personally like Eros, since he didn't cheat or at least was able to keep it in his pants more than certain God's😑. And Psyche is also a very interesting God! Originally a human... Woo-hoo! Love wins all!! Woo-hoo! The crowd cheers!! Standing ovation for her ascent to Goddess-hood!

I don't know much about the Roman Gods, as they're very similar to the Greek Gods. And saying both Greek and Roman Gods together just confuses my sludge brain!

Also, black cats are actually good luck... According to Pagan beliefs, as well as science! Science has shown that Black cats have a better resilience in terms of survival. Unlike white cats, who usually have a bunch of medical issues. Both black and white cats are equally beautiful though. If I had the time, energy, and money, I'd get a black female cat named Yin, and a White male cat named Yang... Get it... Yin-Yang☯️!?

Anyway, overall, I think I'm in general a little confused... But very fascinated by everything.

The only thing is Cults that scare the shart outta me! But that's for another topic, and another day!

I am 17 and I really do not get why my mom is always yelling at me, like seriously what is even happening here. I try so hard to be a good daughter, not in some fake way either, I mean for real. I clean the kitchen without being asked most days, I wash dishes, I fold clothes even when they are not mine, I help with groceries, I keep my room pretty clean, I do my homework on time, I study a lot, and my grades are very good, like I am not out here failing classes or sneaking around or doing wild stuff. I am polite too, maybe too polite, because even when she is already mad I still say okay mom and sorry mom and I keep my voice low because I do not want more drama. But still she yells. She yells if I am doing something, and she yells if I am not doing something, and sometimes I swear she yells before I even understand what she wants. Yesterday I was literally wiping the table after dinner and she came in and said I never help in this house, and I just stood there with the rag in my hand feeling so dumb and small. Like what was I supposed to say, do you see me or not. One time I got a 95 on a test and I was actually happy, like wow maybe she will be proud for once, and all she said was why not 100, and then later she got mad because I was studying in my room and not downstairs where she could “see me doing something.” How am I meant to win that. I am asking for real, what do people even do when no answer is the right answer. Do you ever feel like someone already decided you are a problem and now everything you do looks wrong to them. Because that is how it feels in my house almost every day. I wake up tense already, listening to her footsteps, trying to guess what mood it is gonna be. If I say good morning and she sounds annoyed, my whole chest just drops. If I stay quiet, then I am “cold” or “have an attitude.” If I ask if she needs help, she says I should already know. If I start helping on my own, she says I am doing it the wrong way. I am not saying I am perfect because duh I am 17 and I forget stuff sometimes, I leave a glass in my room sometimes, I get tired, I get moody, normal stuff, but the way she reacts is like I ruined everything and I do not think that is fair. It makes me doubt myself a lot, like maybe I am secretly awful and just cannot see it, but then I look at what I actually do all day and I am like no, this is too much, this cannot all be my fault.

What really gets me is that I keep trying harder and it changes nothing, which is such a miserable feeling. A few weeks ago I made sure the living room was all neat, I finished a school project early, I even made tea for her because she looked stressed, and later that night she started yelling because I forgot to move one bag from the hallway. One bag. Like that was enough to erase everything else. I said sorry right away and moved it, but she kept going on and on about how I make life harder for her, and I just wanted to cry because I honestly do not know how much more careful a person can be before they stop being a person and just turn into some nervous robot. Sometimes I think maybe she is stressed and taking it out on me, and I try to be understanding because life is hard and money is tight and adults have problems they do not talk about, so I do try to be reasonable. I am not sitting here acting like moms are not human. But at the same time, why am I the one getting hit with all the shouting when I am the one helping. Why am I the easy target just because I am there and quiet and trying. Last month I had this long school day and I came home tired but still started dinner stuff because she was late, and when she got home she yelled that the onions were cut too thick. I am not joking. Too thick. I just said okay, I can cut them smaller next time, and then she got even more mad like my calm voice annoyed her too. That happens a lot actually. It is like if I defend myself, I am disrespectful, but if I stay calm, I am “acting smart.” So tell me, what is left. Am I supposed to disappear. I love my mom, which makes this worse because I do not want to hate being around her, but lately I hear her call my name and my stomach drops right away. I keep wondering if one day she will notice I am trying, or if she already knows and just does not care because yelling is easier. Maybe she thinks it makes me better somehow, but it does not, it just makes me tired and weirdly empty. I still do my chores, still get my grades, still try to be nice, because that is just who I am and I do not want to become rude or lazy from being treated unfair. But honestly I am starting to feel dumb for hoping every day will be different. Maybe tomorrow she will be normal, maybe tomorrow she will not snap because I closed a cabinet too loud or folded towels “wrong” or sat down for five minutes after school. Maybe. But then tomorrow comes and it is the same thing again, and I sit there thinking, why is my mom yelling at me, and I never get a real answer.

This is somewhat a continuation of my previous story.

Recently I came across some of the reels James has liked, and frankly I am worried because if I’m getting recommended these reels, there is a chance Jess (his girlfriend) is getting recommended them too.

The reason I’m worried because the reels he has been liking makes Jess look bad. From what I know this is James’ first real and serious relationship. He has had been in an extremely short relationship with another girl but it didn’t even last a week. So when he is liking these reels, I am almost positive that it is in relation to Jess.

For context, Jess absolutely loves watching this drama/romance reality TV show (kind of like a guilty pleasure), and James thinks the TV show is dumb.

The reels he has been liking are criticizing women who watch that show: saying things like the show promotes promiscuity, women who watch that show have no loyalty. I was so shocked seeing him liking these reels because I know how much Jess loves watching that show, so for her boyfriend to be liking these reels seems so… off?

What really made me want to post this story is a different reel though. It was a reel that said something along the lines of: ‘Seeing your girlfriend defend another man to you is one of the most embarrassing things a lot of men experience.’

I am just confused how he can like reels like those without thinking how it makes his own girlfriend look. His friends are on IG, other family members (on both sides) are on IG, etc. I think this is such a bad look for her AND him, but maybe I’m just old school? Maybe this is how couples operate in this newer generation? But this still seems so off to me… am I seeing this wrong? I would like to know how other people perceive this.

I don’t really have companions because, truthfully, I never tried much to make them. It seems I’ve lived isolated for the most of my life. I do have a family—my parents are around—but beyond that, I’m on my own. As a kid, I was the shy one, and over the years, that shyness turned into a preference for solitude. It’s as if I constructed my own quiet little world and, oddly enough, I don’t seem to crave the company of friends as much as one might think.

However, there's something I crave far more than friendship – and that's affection. I don't harbor any ill will towards people. I’m certainly not a misanthrope. Yet, there’s a longing in me to experience simple human affection, like holding hands with a girl, or perhaps even sharing a gentle kiss. These are the modest desires I pine for, the chance to build an intimate connection from such tender beginnings.

Despite painting myself as somewhat righteous in these matters, I worry that my lack of a social circle might turn off potential romantic interests. Maybe it won't be an outright rejection, but there could be a hint of suspicion, a wariness that might eventually push her away. The thought lingers that this might lead to me spending my final years alone, without ever having known intimacy.

How would this scenario play out if I were thrown into the dramatic world of a reality show? Cameras recording every moment of my solitude, the audience witnessing my awkward attempts at human connection—could the added pressure provoke sympathy or ridicule? Would they see my loneliness as a peculiar quirk or a relatable struggle?

If the public were to step into my shoes through the lens of reality TV, I wonder if it could change their perception. Maybe they would cheer for my small victories or feel the sting of my setbacks. Either scenario is daunting yet strangely alluring.

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

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

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

You arrive when the world goes still, when the dark makes room for honesty, no matter how carefully I spent the day avoiding your name. I replay the moment I changed everything with a few trembling words. I rehearse my confession the way others recite prayers, not for forgiveness, but for punishment. Your expression—kind, careful, already closing, has become a permanent fixture in my mind, and I study it as though it might eventually explain what I did wrong beyond loving you too much, too openly, too soon. You did nothing except remain who you were. I was the one who mistook safety for promise, proximity for permission, friendship for a future that existed only in my heart. Now I lie awake stitching together memories, wishing I could rewind myself into the girl who loved you quietly. When loving you only hurt this much in my dreams.