Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

My relationship with my elder sister, Clara, has always been somewhat turbulent. We are distinctly different people; she has a passion for all things fashion and beauty, while I prefer a more casual lifestyle, focusing on academia and my career. Although our interests diverge, I believed we maintained a basic level of respect and civility, until a recent incident made me question this.

Clara’s upcoming wedding has been the center of her universe lately. In an attempt to cut costs elsewhere, she asked if I could contribute financially towards her wedding gown as a “sisterly gesture.” Having just secured a well-paying job, I agreed to help despite finding her request somewhat unusual.

A few weeks ago, during a family get-together, I wore a dress that made me feel particularly confident, despite not being a size 2. To my disbelief, Clara commented loudly enough for everyone to hear that I was “brave” for wearing something so “tight.” I was mortified but chose not to cause a scene by responding.

Later the same evening, she remarked privately that she could never wear something like my dress unless she slimmed down, suggesting the dress was unflattering for someone of my size. This hurt me deeply, and I expressed how offensive her comments were. She dismissed my feelings, claiming she was "just being honest."

These events have led me to reconsider my financial pledge for her wedding dress. When I communicated my decision to her, Clara reacted angrily, accusing me of being selfish and petty. She even claimed that I was sabotaging her special day over a mere joke. Frustrated, I stood my ground, which prompted our parents to intervene, suggesting I should overlook her remarks and contribute as planned, emphasizing that "that’s what sisters do."

However, I felt that Clara's comments crossed a line. This situation makes me wonder if I’m in the wrong for reconsidering my support.

If this saga were to unfold on a reality show, audiences might be captivated by the dramatic fallout, speculating on whether my sister’s comments were genuinely tactless or strategically designed to make a splash on national television. Viewers could be split, with some applauding my stance to withhold financial support as a form of standing up for oneself, while others might view me as overly sensitive, siding with my sister and viewing her comments as benign sibling banter.

Just curious: If you were on a reality show how would you react?

Yesterday marked the birthday of my wife's longest-standing friend, and to celebrate, a dinner was organized at a local restaurant by her circle of friends. I was invited as a guest by my partner. To be completely honest, I've never really been keen on this friend, as she tends to be quite the drama queen, with a penchant for attributing every behavior and occurrence to her astrological sign. If I were to describe her in one word, it would probably be 'exasperating.'

Despite my feelings, I usually just keep to myself and let her do her thing during our encounters. However, during the birthday gathering, she started making a significant fuss about an error with her dessert order. To be fair, we had been waiting around 45 minutes for the desserts, so I understood her initial frustration, but she persisted in her complaints to an excessive degree. She then paused, declaring she was about to have a "Virgo moment," whatever that's supposed to mean. Under my breath, but unfortunately audible enough for others to hear, I muttered "you mean a tantrum." When she pressed me to repeat myself, I did, and explained that there's no such thing as a "Virgo moment" but simply an adult having a tantrum, leading to a brief argument and souring the mood for everyone.

Reflecting on it, I don't believe I was wrong to describe her actions as a tantrum—it was one—but voicing that opinion during her birthday celebration might not have been my finest moment. The conversation quickly became tense without any possibility of a positive resolution. I remained composed and did not escalate the confrontation, yet in hindsight, it might have been better left unsaid as it clearly had no constructive outcome. This incident made us leave earlier than planned.

To put things into context, I attended the dinner at the request of my wife. It was an event where partners were invited, and the meal was covered by her group of friends. While she wasn't excessively disruptive, such as screaming or throwing things around, her continuous complaints and attempts to confront the kitchen staff, despite their apologies, were enough to unnerve everyone.

If this squabble were part of a reality TV show, editors would likely play up the drama with tense music and close-ups, turning an annoying yet relatively mundane incident into a major clash for viewers. It's curious to ponder how the audience would react to such a scene—whether they’d sympathize with her feelings of disappointment over the birthday mishap, or side with me seeing her reaction as undue.

Was I too harsh during the birthday dinner squabble?

TL;DR: Jess and James have been together a little over 1.5 years and argue weekly. Their arguments always have the same root cause of poor communication and I am frustrated with how they get third parties (like a parent) to help solve their problems. (Bonus rant at the bottom)

Context: Let's go with the names Jess for the girlfriend and James for the boyfriend. I am James' older brother's girlfriend. We're all college kids. Jess and James have been dating a little over 1.5 years. They will be together for 2 years this upcoming fall. This will be James' first real long-term relationship. Jess has a chronic health condition that she recently got a temporary, but long-term treatment for. James lives closer to the parent's home and can visit more frequently. James also used to be a super intense guy who was irrational, but after he got on a different kind of medication and got older, he has mellowed out so much.

The Problem: I don't know what is with these two, but every time they come home (either for a hospital visit, holiday, or just visiting the family), there is an 90 to 95% chance that they will argue, and if not that day, give them a couple days and something will blow up. And when I say argue, I don't mean a "What do you want to eat" kind of argument; I mean a full blown, super emotional and intense kind of argument where James is yelling and Jess is crying and sometimes yelling. The worst part is, a lot of these arguments happen late at night and because it is so late, a lot of the times, the dad is mediating/intervening, whatever you want to call it.

But because of how often the dad intervenes, I think Jess got so comfortable that she sometimes seeks the dad to solve their problem. I say this because recently they came home and got into an argument, Jess asked me where the dad was. I really didn't want to answer because the dad is gets pulled in so many directions already and I want him to take care of himself more, but also that in the future she will involve me more, but I did anyway.

I also want to mention that I am only at the parent's place for holidays and summers. But from what I know, this happens frequently throughout the school year and not only at my boyfriend's parent's house, but I also got word from Jess' mom that they argue at her place too.

This has been an ongoing issue since day one. They argue multiple times in a month and possibly multiple times in a week (in worse cases they argue multiple times in a day). I am so sick of hearing them argue whenever they come home that I some times wish they don't. To double down, their argument has always been the same issue. At least the same root issue; James does not like how Jess communicates (or a lack of) with him because it sounds like she isn't actually listening to him. It has always been the same problem, just different spices.

I just want to know how often does a normal healthy couple argue? And especially if it's the same problem because these two are the most dysfunctional couple I have ever met.

Bonus Rant: I was ok with Jess before because she seemed mature back then, but now I am just annoyed with her. My boyfriend wants a close relationship with James and they both bond through video games, but I cannot tell you how many times Jess has sabotaged their time together. They plan to play together on a day and then James gets a call from Jess, "Can you please come over?" and if James tries to explain to her that he set aside time for my boyfriend she just begs him. There was a day where she texted my boyfriend something along the lines of: "Hey, James wanted me to text you that he won't be on tonight because I begged him to stay the night lol" and when my boyfriend showed me that, I was so angry.

Just recently my boyfriend and I got party game to play with James. Jess called him, and he said "Hey, I'm playing with them, and I'm going to win this game" joking and having fun. Jess seemed disinterested and just said "ok, I love you". No joke, like 2 minutes later she calls James, asking him to get his dad because her head hurt. James said that his dad may be asleep and she was quick to say he isn't because he just texted her. Then James was like, why don't you call him, and she just said "Please go get him".

Like I don't want to disregard her condition because I know it is very real, but sometimes I feel like she uses her condition as a crutch for her stupid behavior. And also, if you are already texting, there is no problem to just call the man yourself. Her condition isn't bad enough that she can't talk, move, or do things for herself, because I have seen her talk for hours, I have seen her be active, and I have seen her do stuff around by herself when James is not around. I don't know what her problem is with James gaming with his brother, but if it is jealousy, it is a nasty one.

As my husband's birthday approaches, I find myself at the 38-week mark of my pregnancy. Last week, somewhat hesitantly, I agreed to let his sister collect our daughter from school for a day with her grandparents. Despite my reservations due to their past overstepping of boundaries, I recognize the importance of family bonds and relented.

During a recent visit to pick up our daughter from his parents' place, my husband's sister inquired about his birthday plans. Although I had repeatedly asked him what he desired to do, and even suggested several family-oriented activities, he remained undecided. When his sister proposed making him dinner at her apartment, he eagerly agreed. The dinner would involve both sets of parents, her partner, and our immediate family, which seemed like an ideal arrangement.

However, later, my husband suggested we drive separately because he intended to stay late, socializing, smoking, and drinking. He requested that I leave early with our daughter to put her to sleep. This struck a nerve, as the partnership in our marriage seemed to wane throughout my pregnancy. He had missed almost all my ultrasounds due to voluntary work commitments over weekends and neglected essential preparations for the nursery. Moreover, he hadn't shown any initiative in preparing for the birth, something that would significantly support me.

The sense of solitary burden compounded by his apparent disregard for my condition makes me feel neglected and sidelined. Our birthdays are close, and my due date looms just two days after mine. This means I'll likely spend my birthday heavily pregnant and largely immobile, longing for shared celebrations that seem to matter little to him.

In a flare of frustration, I declared that I would skip the birthday dinner and keep our daughter with me at home, as attending under these circumstances would only distress me further. It often feels as though, despite his self-professed role as a 'family man,' he does not prioritize spending meaningful time with us.

If our lives were part of a reality show, imagine the dynamics and audience reactions to such instances of apparent marital discord and imbalance in family responsibilities. The viewers might side with one or the other, debating on social media and through polls whether my feelings are justified or if perhaps we are both under pressure in different ways due to the impending arrival of our new baby.

Am I wrong here??? How should we improve our communication before the baby arrival?

No worries stalking me as long as you have a male phalange

It’s been years since I’ve realized I was trans(FTM). Recently I decided to actually express my identity by cutting my hair and not wearing anything too feminine to help with dysphoria. Unfortunately she noticed.

Two days ago my mom came to my room and she asked me who I am, she said I could trust her and that she wants to know the truth. She said that if I was honest with her she would be happy and accept me completely. My mom has always been supportive of the LGBTQ community so I thought i could trust her. I spilled my heart out to her and explained everything. How I felt like a boy and how I always felt like a boy.

I didn’t realize she didn’t understand the difference between a trans person and a lesbian for some reason??? She asked me if I like girls and I said no because I honestly am not attracted to girls. She was very confused and I tried to explain it to her and she eventually said she understood and I started crying and she said she’ll love me no matter what and she does see me as a person.

The next day she was VERY depressed looking(very unusual, not saying she should never be depressed or feel down, but usually she’s very happy). I forgot to mention that during this month things haven’t been too good for our family. I won’t go into detail but there’s been a bunch of downfalls and I also told her about evolution a month ago? I think? But she was open to the idea of it and she also started questioning things from the bible. (My whole family is christian, but I honestly have never felt the connection).

Anyways back to the present, she’s still acting different to her usual self and after a few hours she came to my room and started crying. She showed me old pictures of me in skirts and dresses and said she never noticed any signs. She told me I am a girl and it’s a demon whispering things into my ear. She said that she has had things like this happen to her before with bad thoughts. Before the day I came out I was the happiest I could have ever been, I truly felt like me. She started saying that the devil is trying to bring me down and that i need to dig deeper to find the true me. But i know who i am, I always did. Being feminine ≠ Not being trans. I started questioning myself a lot. I feel extremely depressed. My mom since that day has still been the same. She made me pray and ask for forgiveness as well and she said that I need to keep praying and in a few months she’ll ask me who I am again. She said she accepts me but then right after she said It’s the devil talking to me. Straight after that she said I’m going to have a bedtime now?? HELLO? For my whole life I’ve slept past 12am. You could argue it’s not good for me but it’s the only time I’m productive. She said If i dont go to bed she’s going to switch off everything and force me to sleep.

I cant take it anymore. My dad has already always been a bad person to me and we never really spoke to eachother. He always argues with me. My mom was the only person I could talk to and rely on and now she’s gone. She’s been acting weird around me and she said she’s just been sick. I cant take it, it’s only been 2 days but it’s already too much for me. I feel so depressed. I’ve never felt this guilty and horrible. I should’ve jusf kept quiet and said nothing. This wouldn’t have happened if I just kept it away. This isn’t gonna get better and I can feel it. I don’t know what to do. I wish I could just start my life over. She’s making me feel miserable.

This is not for minors I dunno don't read if you can't, be safe. This is going to be about sexual stuff. This is going to include topics like SA! and other disturbing shit. I don't know if the story really fits the category but i couldn't find a better one. It's going to be long, so yall can skip it I don't mind. This also may be nonsensical because i cant write.

So starting off I'm very, very messed up. Im scared to talk about this even to a therapist and I will understand if you tell me im disgusting and horrible. Heres me trying to explain how I got to this point.

The first time i heard about sex was when i was in kindergarten. I don't remember much but I remember one of my friends walked in on her parents and was telling us about it. I was very confused about what was happening because I'd never heard of it. I don't think i was even given the warning to tell my parents if someone touched me. But that doesn't really matter.

So fast forward like a few years i was at the end of kindergarten like the late years. I hadn't started school yet. My mom during summer would leave me and my sister's at my grandma's for a week and our cousins would come and visit us. My cousin was only a year older than me and I would play with dolls with her. Only the games would be really messed up. She would act out scenarios where the guy was like 20-30 years old and the girl was like 12- 18 at most. In short the stories would normally go like this. The guy kidnaps her, locks her up, r@pes her multiple times and she falls in love with him. Of course at that age i didn't know how messed up it was i didn't even know what was sex and when I asked she gave me a very fuxked up explanation. We were both kids. I was scared my mom would be mad if I told her what we played so I never did.

Now again skipping a few years I'm in school. The boys in my class are even in 1st grade finding porn sites and other shit like that. I still was mostly confused and didn't interact with any of it. Until one day when i was like 12 or 11 or something. My friend invited me over to her house. And she told me: I will show you something but you can't tell anyone. She shows me corn sites... And not even the normal ones like hardcore bdsm shit. And of course like the little stupid kid I was like I got hooked. I have ADHD that might be part of it. At that time I freshly got my first phone that had internet. I immediately got hooked. But my mom caught me. And then we had a sit down talk about what is sex and how it actually works.

And that might've worked if i already wasn't so messed up. I was still watching but i got better at hiding it.

A little while later I joined a fandom. It was fine and cool but the fandom had really gross shipping culture and I stumbled upon it and again got way too into it. First i just found fan content on tik tok. Then it was Fanart then Wattpad and then finally the beast AO3. Even though until this point I had already been seeing some weird shit. AO3 was the thing that took it off the rail. The sorting system on the site is pretty hard for beginners and I started to read some very disturbing and disgusting stuff. I think I got addicted both to mastu*bating and to corn.

And here i am now.

I'm addicted to the shit. I hate myself. Whatever you think I've read I can assure you I've read worse. The thing is I don't normally consume that shit. I feel disgusted when i see it. But when I'm excited it's like my brain turns off and i am ready to see the most disgusting stuff and every time I need something more. And after post nut clarity hits i want to kill myself. And like you may say bdsm thats a normal kink DW. But its not. The shit I read contains noncon sometimes gore and even worse stuff. I'm not actually attracted to any of it. At least I hope so.

Okay that's it. I understand if no-one reads this. And I completely understand that if you do you call me disgusting. I am. I know. I wish it was different. I wish I could just wipe my mind clean. But i cant.

Okay bye have nice day if you read this and even if you didn't.

Yours truly, Most fucked up girl in the world.

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.

So he dumped me. Yeah, it's the classic story of a two-year relationship ending in a blazing inferno of heartbreak and confusion. Ever felt your heart drop to your stomach like a malfunctioning elevator? That's exactly how it went down. Two years of late-night cuddles, inside jokes, and shared Spotify playlists just tossed aside like yesterday’s trash. And here I am, a 21-year-old woman, staring at my reflection asking, "why can't I stop crying?" 😭

Seriously though, who even decides it's perfectly fine to obliterate someone’s universe over a text? That's right, he broke up with me over a damn text! Talk about modern-day dating atrocities. Why did I ever trust someone with the emotional intelligence of a goldfish? As you can guess, I haven’t stopped crying since. Not to be melodramatic, but I feel like I've been caught in a torrential downpour without an umbrella. RIP my post-breakup plans 🌧️ They say it takes half the time you were with someone to get over them; does that mean I've got a solid year of this emotional rollercoaster still to ride? 🚂

The rational part of me knows this is just a transient phase, that I'll eventually overcome this episode; but the other part, the one that holds onto those self-inflicted pity parties, has a different narrative to spin. Funny, you never really understand the term 'emotional baggage' until someone decides to up and leave, leaving you with enough emotional luggage to open a boutique. Yet here I am, holding onto the scraps of memories and the wreckage of what was. Aren't we supposed to grow from these experiences? Or is that just a nugget of wisdom to placate the wounded ego? 🤔

I'm not super close with my family but like they aren't bad people. I have no idea if I'm overreacting but it feels like I'm just a stranger hanging out in their house. It's really obvious that they like my brother more which really hurts because I try so much to be the perfect kid and I just can't do it. Once my dad was trying to have a sweet moment with me and he said "I love you (brothers name)". Honestly it really shook me up to realize that they don't even think about me. I have no idea if I'm over reacting but like it feels like they just kinda put up with me.

My husband and I are parents to a wonderful 12-year-old daughter who has recently become the target of intense bullying at her school. The issue escalated quickly from mere name-calling to more aggressive harassment. A bit of background; our daughter was adopted, something we've always openly cherished as part of her unique story. Unfortunately, once this detail became known at school, the bullying intensified with classmates making cruel remarks about her birth mother not wanting her, despite the fact that her birth mother made a huge sacrifice due to her immense love for her.

The situation recently took a disturbing turn when our daughter returned home devastated, with two inches crudely chopped off her ponytail. This happened in class as her peers mocked and ridiculed her, compounding her humiliation and distress. The ongoing torment follows her through the halls daily.

My husband and I have reached out to the school relentlessly, through emails, phone calls, and direct visits to discuss the matter with teachers and the principal. Each interaction ended with vague assurances of "looking into the matter," but no real action followed. Seeing the toll it's taking on her—her anxiety, disrupted sleep, and pleas to avoid school altogether—we felt compelled to consider legal measures against the school and the bully's family in search of some resolution.

It was only when the threat of legal involvement was clear that the school and the bully's parents began to show a semblance of concern. The school has since moved the bully to a different class and the parents insisted they'd address their child's behavior. But can they be trusted? To me, these feel like temporary solutions, mere gestures to defuse the legal threat rather than a genuine commitment to resolving the issue.

Given the circumstances, most of my family believes I should pause the legal proceedings now that the school seems to be responding. Yet, I can't shake off the feeling that these actions are superficial, primarily aimed at avoiding litigation rather than safeguarding my daughter.

Imagine if our story were featured in a reality show, the intensity of the public's reaction could potentially sway the school into taking more permanent and effective measures. Would the dramatization and spotlight pressure the school administration and the bully’s parents into genuinely addressing the bullying issue or would it just make them more defensive?

So, am I wrong for continuing with legal action even though the school and the bully's parents now claim they’re addressing the issue?

I reside in a residential block where a recent rule mandates that after 8pm, residents must use their front door keys to access the building. Before anyone moves in, they're forewarned about this security measure. Nevertheless, a new neighbor who moved into the apartment below has a habit of leaving the back door unlocked for her convenience. Despite repeated reminders to carry her keys to avoid being locked out, she continues to disregard this advice.

Recently, this neighbor has begun to treat me as if I'm on staff at a hotel, pounding on my windows and persistently ringing my intercom to let her in when she forgets her key. This disruption is nightly, usually happens post-9pm, and it always agitates my dog. Initially, I obliged and opened the door for her twice out of courtesy, but after the third incident, I made it clear that she needed to remember her keys, as I wouldn't be assisting her moving forward.

Just tonight, she went out with her dog and—predictably—left her key behind. When she returned and found herself locked out, she resorted to her usual tactics of banging and buzzing. This time, I decided to turn off my buzzer, gave my dog a treat, closed my doors, and went back to my movie, determining to ignore her entirely.

Here's the potential issue: it's rather late, and it's dark outside. She's been sitting on the front steps for around 45 minutes, using her phone and loudly complaining about my refusal to help her to anyone who will listen. Admittedly, I live in a part of town that's a bit rough around the edges. It’s not dangerous per se, but certainly not the best area to linger outside during late hours. Despite that, am I wrong to think she should take some responsibility?

If this ordeal were part of a reality show, I imagine the audience would be split. Some might rally behind me for promoting self-reliance and security protocols, while others might critique me for lacking empathy, especially under potentially unsafe conditions. The drama would undoubtedly be played up, and each knock and shout would likely gain a dramatic soundtrack to heighten the tension further.

I'm genuinely interested to see what others would advise in this predicament. If anything, it feels like I’m forced into a role that I didn't sign up for. Am I overreacting by feeling this way, or is her behavior as unreasonable as it seems?

I was watching nana edits, it's an amazing anime and I love it. Gonna get a tattoo. While I was watching it tho..my lamp blinked 3 or 4 times. I thought the power was gonna go out but nothing else in my room was doing that. Not the fan or anything. It stopped, idk why but it kinda felt like a kind ghost just letting their presence be known. I feel like a ghost, it feels like my friends and family have their relationships figured out and feel connected. I wish I had something like that. When I wanna die, I think about my sister and the playlist I made when I think about her. I watch videos about girls losing their older brother. Sometimes I really do just wanna leave earth, like right now, it feels good to finally let my feelings out like this. When I think about dying, it's silly but I think of a hot guy and he's my boyfriend, kissing him and stuff, that's all I want during my last moments, I'd be pretty content. I don't think anyone would really care THAT much if I killed myself. I would plan but I try not to let myself get to that level. I'm also a degenerate which doesn't help during dark times, like they're having fulfilling social fun while I e-sex men or plan hookups. I feel like a doomer, that was something I was worried of becoming yet I'm just here.

I'm 18, I turn 19 this year tho. idk why but aging is scary, like nothing to do with looks or anything but it's like life is serious and I'm on a ride that I can't stop and it's gonna keep going up. It's too vast, overwhelming, I can do anything now but like what, yaknow. I guess that's why I just resorted to sexual shit. I don't like this vast dull feeling tho, idk how to stop it, it's like stopping from being happy about shit I'm supposed to be happy about. Like I'm graduating this year, I got the hairstyle I finally wanted, gonna get a job, gonna start my career, gonna party, club, concert, dance, travel. I don't understand why my happiness isn't here...

I sit here at 5:30 in the morning—about 12 hours before I celebrate Friendsgiving with all of my friends. I made my mom’s famous deviled eggs. I hope they taste just as good as hers, but I won’t know this year. Only my taste buds and my heart will know, since we always measured with love and tasting as we went.

My mom passed a little over two months ago, and I can say that losing a parent never gets easier—at least in my experience, it seems to be that way. Oddly enough, my dad’s anniversary is on Thanksgiving this year, and he passed the day after almost five years ago.

I haven’t been able to sleep a wink. I’m tired, but with no signs of going down any time soon. I lie awake thinking of my mother’s last moments and hurting over all the ways she could’ve died. But life gave her the worst hand with cancer.

My poor mama. My strong mother who was still strong in her last days and moments—always holding on. I sit here missing her more than ever. Knowing she’s not with me this year, cooking with her and celebrating Thanksgiving—even after Dad’s passing—is the worst thing ever.

I’m grateful that tomorrow I get to spend it with all my close loved ones. But fuck, guys—this fucking sucks. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for a loud Thanksgiving where everyone was in the house being loud, a movie always playing in the background, and giving the cats a little turkey.

I’m so grateful that even though my relationship with my parents wasn’t perfect, they loved, nourished, and did the best they could. I wish I could’ve told my dad that if I were given the chance. But I lost him too young to really understand life. Same with Mom—but you grow up more and more as you lose people.

I’ve been crying all night, just mourning, and I felt like I needed to type something out. I’m sad and hurt, and the world keeps on turning. But there’s one thing that keeps playing in the back of my mind.

I remember a crazy night at a festival. I was, of course, indulging in recreational substances, and I was trying to tell 20-something of my friends—my dearest boos—which some of them definitely remember from that evening. And in the best way possible, I’ll try to tell you what I said in a more coherent way (lol):

Remember where you are right now. Even if we come to this place once a year, and while it might not be enough for us, it’s all we have. And those moments are eternal, and they will always be there. I don’t ever want to go a moment without knowing you, and if this one moment is all I have, then we must make the most of it.

What I’m trying to say is that at the end of the day—whether you’ve lost your “tribe” or lost a member—remember those moments that no one can take away from you.

About a month ago, I tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony. For my wedding, I chose to wear the same lacy, floor-length dress that my mother had worn at her own wedding. Tragically, she passed away two years earlier, making the dress an incredibly sentimental token for me.

Due to its sentimental value, I was extra cautious to protect it from any harm. I decided beforehand that I would only wear it during the ceremony and switch to a different, more casual outfit for the party later. Additionally, I refrained from consuming anything but water to avoid stains, and I decided to stay indoors while wearing it.

I’m not usually one to fret over tidiness, but wearing my mom’s dress without a hitch meant the world to me. My bridesmaids were well aware of how much the dress meant to me and my plans to safeguard it. On the wedding day, I prepared upstairs in a special room, my precious gown hanging securely.

However, while I was downstairs briefly, an incident occurred as recounted to me by my bridesmaids. They had popped open a bottle of Pinot Noir, my favorite wine, to celebrate. While admiring my dress, one bridesmaid, let's call her "Elise", aged 27, accidentally spilled wine on the dress’s hem while touching the fabric.

Upon returning and learning what had happened, I broke into tears. My maid of honor immediately contacted several cleaners, but none could help before the ceremony. They gave us some advice on how to preserve the dress until it could be professionally cleaned, and my maid of honor began following those instructions.

Infuriated, I confronted Elise, questioning why she would carry red wine near the dress knowing the precautions I had set. Her dismissal of the incident as trivial and her claim that wearing the dress posed a similar risk of damage infuriated me further. I was so upset that I asked her to leave the wedding and dismissed her from her duties as a bridesmaid.

I ended up wearing my backup dress for the receptions, and it was devastating not to wear my mom's dress. After the wedding, some bridesmaids commented that I might have overreacted by firing Elise for what they called a simple mistake.

I still believe I was justified in my reaction, especially given Elise's lack of remorse. But sharing this story here, I’m hoping to get some neutral perspectives. Am I actually in the wrong here?

Imagine how this might unfold if it were an episode on a reality wedding show. You can just picture the dramatic zoom-ins and tense music as the wine spills, followed by the heated exchange and me asking Eliz to leave. Viewers would probably be split; some might sympathize with my desire to preserve a precious memory, while others might think the reaction was too extreme for reality TV.