Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I feel awful. I was firmly convinced that my boyfriend was being controlling with me and when I read an article about the signs of being with a controlling partner I realized that actually my boyfriend isn't really that controlling, I am.

Why on earth do I meet every single criteria for what it means to be controlling in a relationship? And in the end of the article is the ab*sive hotline phone number.

Honestly, I'm worried about my own self and him. I keep telling him we should see a couples counselor, but he keeps saying in the future we will and that's not working for us. Initially, I looked up an article because I tried multiple times over the course of a few days to break up with him for being disrespectful to me and he would somehow convince me in the end to not break up.

I still think in his own way he is toxic and controlling, but I feel ashamed of myself. I feel stupid, too. I don't understand why I never even noticed that about myself before. He also never tells me directly that he thinks I'm being controlling, but I have told him when I think he is. I am scared of continuing being in this relationship with these behaviors of mine and his, too. It's just more reason to end the relationship, but he puts up resistance when I attempt to leave him. Now I see how we aren't a good fit for each other and it isn't just him. Idk how to get him to accept that it's over between us because we both need professional help.

I do actually have what I thought were solid reasons to explain my "controlling" behaviors and it really felt justified before reading the article. I would share it here too, but it's such a long story to be typing over a single text box. I guess I'm not entirely seeking any kind of advice. I'm mostly just venting. I am still trying to process that I wasn't as good of a partner as I felt I was all this time. I feel so guilty about things I possibly put my partner through without realizing. I wonder if I fix my end of the issues if he will just improve on his own as well or if it isn't worth it. I truly love him, I'm just afraid of wasting years of my life and his and in the end things fall apart. I don't want to fail if I invest everything I can into pur relationship together. I guess I'm unsure how to move forward with this and it's made me feel really upset.

Everything this I say to this girl she trips. The reason why I am mad now is because she swears she knows me everything, this pisses me off so badd. So basically we’re teens and today I come home after 4 something. I get out at 3:15, the house is supposed to be clean, I come it’s not clean. When I tell her, she swear up and down she’s clean more then me, then my moms gets on my ass about the house. Tbh if they don’t care I don’t either. I may have anger issues but when we’re having an argument she makes it seem like I’m jealous of her of insecure, and I’m like girl what.. and I tried actually talking to her but she’s says dumb stuff that makes me wanna actually wanna slap her. Back on the house thingy, she stayed home the entire day, and did nothing butt rearrange the pillows.. yall😂. But yeah my mom gets on my ass about everything so.. am I wrong? Or being pushy? (Sorry if you’re confused, I’m writing this while mad rn)

How could I have ended up alone? I tried to do everything right with others. I tried to fit in with others. I tried to do everything to connect, and I still haven't succeeded. It can't be that at this point in my life, I've ended up alone. This is hell for me, from every perspective.

I'm envious of the friends I met, the ones I've interacted with, because they have lives, and I don't. I'm starting from scratch, like a newborn baby, except I don't have the chance to go to preschool. How do people like me want to start over? I'm looking for a new life.

It can't be that I have to settle for the life I had. In fact, I'm alone because I felt that the life I had, its relationships, were ineffective and actually harmed me in terms of my development, in terms of my ideals of taking care of myself, of my spirituality.

I was building a life based on trampling on that, however, I found it wasn't the path, because it didn't allow me to be free, to be critical, to be aware of what was happening in my life. It was like being at the mercy of injustice, of unconsciousness, and there's nothing worse than that. I feel that's why I stayed alone, because I didn't support those kinds of thoughts. My goal in life was to be conscious and to defend that no matter what, and frankly, I'm proud of it.

Unlike when I started writing, I'm happy to be alone if it means keeping a distance from people who don't advocate for consciousness, for self-exploration, regardless of the path I have to take. And I have to say, even in these, therapists have been a hindrance, which is why I also had to keep my distance. To this day, I'm glad to have recognized that both this environment and this help, in the end, only advocated for a defective, half-baked, and non-holistic development.

Without a doubt, many of your lives are filled with girlfriends, friends, and well-paying jobs. However, I need to point out, they are prisons, at which point you have decided to sell your conscience in exchange for conformity, in exchange for receiving defense and a position of power by following a trend in which other people are also involved, and not being alone when faced with a situation. Of course, all of this is based on not believing in yourself, and it's just the opposite; it's the starting point I want for my life.

Indeed, being alone, unlike in your case, which means having deliberately disconnected from relationships, in my case represents the constant reinforcement of my belief in myself, as a starting point, to safeguard my life. Without a doubt, this prevents me from being attentive to others. I will be attentive when there are commitments, but in the meantime, I won't. It's interesting to have them, but you also have to admit that they are out of your control, and they are better when they happen spontaneously.

I feel sorry for myself for reaching this point of remaining alone solely to strengthen my spirituality and allow life to move forward completely naturally, allowing it to be contemplated as such. Creating artificial moments is precisely covering up those spiritual points that need to be worked on, and that's what I don't want; I need to develop them in order to achieve this goal with spirituality. Now I understand why I have the life I have.

It must be said, in the midst of this accumulation, which indeed pressures and makes one feel overwhelmed, many take advantage of it to make suggestions, which is simply a way of taking advantage of a development of ideas, a boiling point of ideas, to gain a follower. This is an attack on their development, on their individuality.

I’m the biggest procrastinator, my visions & goals stay all in my head. Im scared to fail, or take chances & I hate it! I feel like I make excuses, like I want to become a nurse. It would change my life all the way around. Last week I was supposed to to take my entrance exam & didn’t because I felt like I didn’t have time to study. I’m a stay at home mom, with a spouse who works all the time but takes advantage he’s the main provider. He keeps to decided how much money I can like $20 a week or if we get into it he throws in my face he’s going to leave me with this huge house & rent. For the sake of my kids I keep it a non toxic environment & try to get along with him. But I want my own money, My own career. I want to live in an apartment in downtown, with my kids & nice car in the garage & start are life. I’m only 26 but feel like i’ve waisted so much time & i’m getting older. I was a stripper, a did so good, but i’m past my 21 phase & want to secure a career. I went to college for medical assistant & it’s cool & all but I want more. I’ve never worked at a fast food place I knew I’ve always wanted more in life ( No shade to the people who do, bc of yall I get to pull up, order & go! ) Even when I danced, I would hesitate to walk up to customers. They would come up to me but some nights I left home with nothing just because I was scared to approach someone. I wasn’t always like this. The current person i’m with, had me locked away at home for 3 years so when we spilt I had social anxiety so bad & had to get on medication. Now i’m doing a lot better & don’t let him do that anymore but man I couldn’t even go to walmart without breaking down feeling people looking at me. i just want to be able to say I took the first step & did it. Or sit in my nice bedroom & look how far i’ve came. But need that extra push.

I thought I already moved on. I thought I'm all good. Turned out I didn't. Doesn't help that I found out about it a year later. I don't know why I can't move on. I don't think this is limerence anymore. 😵

i want to hit my head against a wall until my brain spills out. i'd bend over, crumpling down to the floor with a newfound lightness. my hands would reach out, towards the lump of misshapen meat on the carpet, grasping at the stem. i'd pull. and pull. and pull and pull. it would unwind in my hands, onto the floor like a spool of red thread. decorated along the pink tissue would be miniscule lines. microscopic letters; descriptions of events and people and places decipherable only by the innermost part of the self -- the heart.

and so, i would dig my fingernails in deep. deep. and deeper. deeper and deeper still. and then, my fingers would grasp the weakly pulsating bloody mass. i'd pull. and pull. and pull and pull. it'd tear out of my ribcage in a satisfying manner, with a sickly sweet squelch. blood would spill out of my concave chest and stain the white carpet. my thumbnails would find purchase in the surface of the organ, peeling it open like one would an orange, splitting open at the aorta and downwards past the purkyne tissue. inside, what is inside? i peer in. i wish i hadn't. there is no answer. none. none at all. none of this matters. i tear and tear and tear into myself for nothing. i drive a blade with practiced precision into the supple flesh of my skin in an attempt to peel it away and gain even a glimpse at the person i am within, naked and bare for none to see. there is no substance. i fall. no one hears. there is nothing to hear. for i am nothing, and everything at once. i have no substance to myself, but i mimic fragments of what others do. fragments. shards. a million glass shards when glued together don't form a mirror. engraved into my subconscious. an effort to please. to be neutral. to be perceived.

and then i receive it. an answer. an answer! at last, at last. i see it. i see it all. so clear. so clear indeed. i am a grotesque, misshapen amalgamation of everything and everyone i hold dear. a summation of everything equalling to nothing of substance. nothing of value. i know what i am.

i smile as i bleed out onto the red carpet.

At 18, I, Sophie, have been in a wonderful relationship with my boyfriend, Ethan, 20, for a bit over a year now. Ethan is incredible—attentive, kind, and endlessly considerate. He hasn’t let me pay for a single dinner since we’ve been together! Before Ethan, I was dating Jake, 22, who ended up betraying me by secretly being with Ethan’s sister, Mia, 21. At that time, I didn't know either Ethan or Mia existed. Jake lied for a whole month, claiming that the rumors were just a bad joke gone wrong. I naively believed him.

Back then, Mia seemed nice but became hard to be around because of the spreading rumors, which made social outings unpleasant. Eventually, I drifted from my old friends and found myself a new circle, which surprisingly included both Mia and Ethan. Ethan and I hit it off right from the start and began going out more, often just the two of us. After a sweet kiss at a party, things felt perfect. I talked with Mia beforehand to clear the air and Ethan soon expressed how much he cared about me. Within two months, we were officially a couple.

The only real snag has been my brother, Jake, 23, who took the whole Mia debacle pretty poorly. Despite Mia and I resolving our differences—turns out Jake hadn't told her about me either, and she was really apologetic—Jake still holds a grudge. Ethan’s family, however, has been nothing but welcoming, treating me as one of their own. My parents adore Ethan; they see how well he treats me, but Jake gets irritated whenever Ethan's around or even mentioned.

And here's a thought: imagine if all of this drama unfolded on a reality TV show! How intense would that be with cameras capturing every awkward family dinner and each reconciliation? The drama would certainly be dialed up. I can almost hear the audience’s reactions during each revelation and each step forward in mine and Ethan’s relationship.

My parents are really too in my business, yet not enough.

They are such hypocrites, saying this and doing another, thinking it doesn't apply to them because they're adults.

One time, I didn't want to wear the dress my mother chose for me for a party and she slapped me, grabbed my hair, pulled me and told me to pack my things and get out (I was 14).

Today, my father asked me to put my creme on (bcs of my eczema), I put the recommended amount (and the amount said in the instructions) on and told me to put some more even though it could give me rashes and itchiness all week. He started yelling at me for being too "stupid", even though the instructions were in French, the doctor who gave me the instructions spoke French and guess what? The frigging pharmacy who gave me recommendations spoke French. HE DOESNT SPEAK FRENCH. My mother sided with him, like the "good wife" she is. They expect "respect" yet they aren't decent human beings.

I have good grades at school, not to please, but to have a good future and run away from home the minute I get a steady income. (I'm 15 btw).

Honestly just wondering, at what point is it enough to say that there's no reason to be alive. I feel like I could probably achieve some of the things that I may have wanted in the past, but I genuinely think I'd just rather kill myself.

Between interpersonal success and self actualization, I'd say those are the only things which could motivate me to keep living, but I just don't think it's practical to expect anything from myself in the kind of timeline that would make it worthwhile. I deal with paranoia, autism, panic disorder, BPD, OCD, and a very faint sense of identity. I have creative hobbies like art, music, learning about different cultures, studying languages and learning about history, but none of them would lead me to a stable job. As far as physical health, I've been struggling to gain weight and put on muscle due to diet and I hesitate to make changes to my diet due to my OCD. I consider myself average to unattractive as far as looks go, and I honestly don't even care because I hate others more than enough not to care what they think. I'm not on speaking terms with my mother, my father and both of my sisters rarely speak to me even though they claim to care about me, I have a couple of online friends from high school but I don't speak to them often either. I'm in a couple of communities at my university but in all of them I'm basically the guy that no one knows how to approach.

Until now, I'd wanted to change the world for people like me who are struggling despite having had some kind of potential, but idk, I'm tired. I know that people like me never get anywhere in life, that I've never had a stable relationship in my life and that puts me years behind everyone else developmentally. I know that I've had enough bad experiences that I'd just rather save myself the regret and hide in my room all day, but at that point I'll just be doing myself a favor by letting myself rest instead of continuing to deteriorate.

I'm young, I've been told that I'm an intelligent person and that I have a lot of things going for me, but every time I try to act on the smallest ambition I have, I regret it. I could very feasibly get a girlfriend this year or in the next couple months. I could very feasibly get a part-time job to start working on my resume. I could very feasibly talk to program administers about the projects I've wanted to do after graduating and get real support on those, but I don't really care. Modern dating sucks and though I'd like to have someone, chances are they disappoint me or disgust me like everyone else, and I don't ever really buy myself anything so I'd only be working to be out of my dorm. I don't even really care at this point about changing the world, people like me shouldn't exist. I wanted to create a world where no one like me would have to exist but everyone like me is probably just gonna kill themselves anyway.

I regret my life. I gave myself a suicide date when I was 14 and said I'd wait until I was 28 (I figured my life already sucked enough then that I'd give myself another 14 years just to see), but genuinely, why would I? I feel so far behind everyone else that something as basic as going outside gives me panic attacks. Everyone who tries to help me ultimately gets pushed away by my paranoia and I just don't have a place in society unless I go out and create one for myself which takes time, effort and skill which would mean that one way or another I lose out on my entire youth getting to the point where I would have been if I hadn't been neglected or born with these issues. I'm in therapy and it overall hasn't helped me to do any of the things I need to do.

I don't want to keep playing the "if only" game. It is what it is and I want to stop being forced to pretend that one day I'll live a normal life. Lemme know if this counts for a good enough reason to kms.

Just to sign off I miss my friend a lot. She was the last person I think I could trust and I'm debating whether or not having her cut me off last year was a good enough last straw.

Getting the news that I had cancer felt like a punch in the gut. When the oncologist said those words, it was as if the world paused, and all I could hear was the incessant ringing in my ears. It's funny how moments like that can be so isolating, yet so communal at the same time.🎗️ Everyone knows someone who's battled this beast, yet it's always different when it's you. That feeling of being adrift in a sea of medical jargon—metastasis, chemotherapy, targeted therapy—it's overwhelming. But damn, I never pictured myself in this fight, not at this point in life. But here I am, and I guess the only way is forward; I've got to keep swinging.

Cancer treatment is a whirlwind. One moment you're being scanned head-to-toe, the tech using words like "tumor markers" and "biopsy results," and the next, you're sitting in a too-bright room with fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, getting a rundown of your treatment plan. It's like they're plotting a military operation in your own body. They, of course, mean the well-meaning medical team—the oncologists, nurses, and specialists who keep telling me I need to stay strong. Sometimes, I think to myself, "Am I supposed to be grateful or terrified?" Because right now, I'm exhausted from these pep talks and motivational quotes. Doctors might have all the knowledge in the world, but they don't know what it feels like to sit on the other side of that desk, huh?

Yeah, I get it. Positivity is the mantra. But there are days when I freaking want to scream. I want to tell someone to take their platitudes and shove them. It's not easy managing the side effects of chemo—those surprise bouts of nausea that hit like a wave, the fatigue that feels like a weight is dragging me down. It's like my body is betraying me while we're supposed to be on the same team. Every day, I pop pills with names longer than a CVS receipt, timing them between sparse meals because my appetite is like a see-saw. And let's not forget the ongoing battle with insurance—pre-authorizations and phone calls that feel like a test of endurance.

Still, I've met warriors on this path who are nothing short of inspiring. There's Jane, who lost her hair but came to every session with a smile that could light up a room. She once told me, "This is just a detour, not the end of the road." Then there's Mark, who's in remission, and he swears by his mantra, "Hope is a weapon." These interactions are grounding—they remind me that I'm not alone, even if my journey is uniquely mine. The community is a powerful thing, and sometimes a simple “how are you feeling today?” can mean more than all the medical advice combined. Have you ever experienced that magic of connection that turns strangers into comrades?

In all this chaos, there's a weird, subdued calm that settles in knowing you're doing all you can. Despite the odds and the stats that doctors rattle off, I tell myself to keep fighting; it's both a command and a plea. If life is a series of battles, this is just another one, albeit a brutal one. But it surfaces a profound question—why fight at all? Do we fight to win or out of a sheer refusal to give in? So, while I may have days when every step feels heavy, I'll endure. Not just because I'm told it's the right thing to do, but because it’s who I am—a fighter, a survivor, maybe even a champion someday. So, to anyone else staring down this path, let's keep swinging, together...

I have this friend, Carly, who’s 23 and we've been tight ever since our freshman days back in high school. She’s been chasing her musical dreams in LA lately. Carly always had a knack for writing; she even got her degree from a reputable private liberal arts college in California, majoring in Creative Writing. Most of us who know her well were betting she’d go into songwriting. However, Carly decided to take on singing instead. She's already dropped three singles and has an album in the pipeline, but honestly, they're just not good. Her vocal timbre really doesn’t cut it—it’s rather flat and nasal, plus she has this odd way of modulating her pitch. Watching her perform live is even more of a struggle. The crowd of friends she's made in LA keep cheering her on, telling her she’s phenomenal. I’m just worried about how far their praises will carry her before someone in the business pulls the plug and tells her straight up, “you can’t sing.”

What worries me more is thinking what if she ever ended up on one of those reality singing shows? Like, imagine her getting up there with that same supportive crowd, only to face the harsh critiques from seasoned judges in front of a national audience. Could you just imagine the humiliation? It’s hard enough seeing her wade through local gigs, but that level of exposure and raw feedback could really break her.

How does one deal with this? Is it kinder to let her keep dreaming while everyone around nods and smiles, or would a true friend intervene before the reality becomes too painful? Waiting it out seems like watching a ticking time bomb. Is sitting back really the answer?

I'm not even shocked at this point hahahah they've done that to me before years before they gonna do it again right now lol 😂

Every year, organizing a family getaway has become one of my cherished traditions. This year, with Easter approaching, I reached out to gather everyone's availability, aiming for a winter holiday suited for all. Unfortunately, not all plans aligned perfectly. My daughter-in-law and son mentioned that the initial dates wouldn’t work due to her job constraints, and even our backup options failed to suit them.

Traditionally, our family vacations were accessible by a car ride, but this year marked a thrilling change. The consensus among the adults was that the children were now mature enough for a more adventurous outing, prompting us to set our sights on Europe. Excitement buzzed as tickets were purchased and accommodations were secured by me.

As the planning solidified, my son and daughter-in-law, having been absent from the vacation chat due to initially opting out, caught wind of the European destination and expressed a sudden interest to join. She called seeking details on what they needed to do to be included. Curiously, she now mentioned she could manage time off work, which made me suspect that the allure of Europe swayed her previous decisiveness.

Regrettably, I had to explain that it was too late to alter the arrangements. The accommodations were already booked, and adjusting them to include two more adults would entail additional costs, which I wasn't prepared to cover. She seemed surprised by my decision and lamented how excluding them from a Christmas family trip seemed harsh. My son echoed his disappointment, affirming that I could financially handle the modification. Yet, I stood by my decision, which only led him to label me as unreasonable.

Given the circumstance, I am curious about how others might perceive this situation. If this family dilemma were part of a reality show, I wonder how the audience would react. Would they sympathize with my adherence to the plans and budget, or would they vilify me for not extending the budget to include my son and daughter-in-law last minute?

I'm keen on hearing an outsider's perspective on this. How would you handle such a family conflict, especially under the scrutiny of a public or televised audience?

Your rose is surrounded by the thorns of your strength, I know as much. Yet I hold it in my hand delicately in fear that those petals fall out in the breeze of my passion and regret

I can't help but ask why I keep holding it. Why do I torture myself with the thorns going through my fingers when the rose won't even bloom in my direction? My frustration grows. I hate it. I hate myself. From all the other flowers in the garden, why is it that this rose captures my attention? Why am I always drawn to its scent? I'm not certain the scent is meant for someone else, if any at all, but no doubt it's not meant for me. So why does it call for me? And why do I answer?

I'm only ever growing more sick of that scent. Or maybe it's the image of the delirium that came with the memories of you that urges my stomach to vomit my insides out. The elegance, the style, the dress, the smiles, the soft warm looks you used to give me - I hate them all. I wish I could hate them all. Maybe then I could let go. But no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, the world never looked good in black and white

I'm only ever growing more sick of that scent. Or maybe it's the image of the delirium that came with the memories of you that urges my stomach to vomit my insides out. The elegance, the style, the dress, the smiles, the soft warm looks you used to give me - I hate them all. I wish I could hate them all. Maybe then I could let go. But no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, the world never looked good in black and white

My heart still sinks at the sight of you. And the body rushes in the anticipation of talking to you again. The worst part is that I was fully aware, of my attraction, from beginning to end, but knowledge alone can't help what happens beyond it.

It's painful. Seeing you walk past. Never sure if you hate me for something I've done or for the times I walked past you with no reaction like you weren't there. Perhaps I deserve it. And yet I didn't know what else to do. No matter how painful seeing you is, it never compares to the days when you're not around.

In my time as a florist, I've encountered all kinds of hectic situations, but one Saturday morning truly topped the charts. Emily, the bride, and her mother, Helen, arrived at our shop at the crack of dawn, a mere three hours before Emily's wedding was set to begin. Their request was simple yet daunting: a bridal bouquet, a special corsage for the mother of the bride featuring cattleya orchids, a boutonniere for the groom, and six additional ones for his attendants.

The bride eagerly thumbed through a premium floral book, pointing out designs adorned with garden roses, dainty stephanotis, and intricate variegated ivy—all flowers that needed to be ordered well in advance. Both Emily and her mother couldn't grasp why we didn't have these luxurious, perishable items just lying around. The cattleya orchids Helen wanted were nowhere to be found in our inventory either. Caught in a bind, my boss firmly explained the limitation of choosing from available stock and sticking to simpler designs due to the time crunch.

As our discussion heated, Emily alternated between tears and indignantly protesting that we were sabotaging her special day. My boss, who was notoriously short-tempered with last-minute bridal requests, bluntly reminded her that the oversight in flower planning was her own doing. Helen attempted to confront my boss on her supposed poor service, receiving a pointed suggestion to try their luck at a nearby supermarket's floral section instead.

Defiantly, Helen declared they would do just that and reassured Emily that everything would be sorted out in time for the wedding. They left in a huff, leaving us to sigh in relief.

Yet, within minutes, my boss decided we should preemptively prepare something. So, we started crafting six simple boutonnieres from the dendrobium orchids we did have. Meanwhile, my boss put together a basic bouquet using some slightly wilted white roses and more orchids.

As expected, Helen returned not long after, her tone much subdued, pleading for us to assemble the necessary arrangements. We managed to pull everything together on time, but not without imposing a hefty rush fee for their troubles.

Imagine if all this drama unfolded on a reality TV show! The cameras capturing every tear, every argument—our florist shop turning into a stage for bridal meltdowns and frantic last-minute fixes. Viewers would probably be on the edge of their seats, judging between sympathy for the unprepared bride and frustration at her entitlement. It would surely be an episode filled with tension and maybe a few laughs at the absurdity of it all.