Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I am 38, male, and this is just a report, not a poem, not a cry, not a lesson, just a dump like on /vent because that is what this site is for. I wake up, I go to work, I fail quietly, I come back, I eat trash, I sleep, repeat, that is the system. I never had a girlfriend, not once, not even the fake high school one people lie about to seem normal. Women never looked at me like a person, more like furniture or a problem to avoid, and yeah I know you will say “it’s your personality” or “work on yourself” because that is the standard script, quoted endlessly like a broken motivational poster. I am not saying I deserve love, I am saying the data shows I never had it, and after 38 years the trend line is pretty clear. No close friends either, no one texting me first, no one asking how I am unless it is HR pretending to care. At work I suck, not in a dramatic way, just enough to always be behind, always be the guy who “tries” but never advances, and you know what happens to guys like that. People say life is about “small joys” and “gratitude” but that sounds like marketing language invented to sell books to losers like me. Objectively speaking, if you remove romance, social validation, and competence, what is left that makes this worth repeating every day.

I am not writing this to shock you, I am writing it because I am tired of pretending this is some deep mystery. Men like me are told to shut up and improve or die quietly, and women are framed as prizes we failed to unlock, which makes everyone worse. I can be rude about it because honesty is rude now. When you go decades without touch, without being chosen, without even being hated passionately, it does something boring to your brain, not tragic, just empty. People quote Nietzsche or Camus about meaning, like “one must imagine Sisyphus happy”, but Sisyphus at least had a story and an audience. I have a cubicle and a login. Therapy is another quote machine, more phrases like “reframe your narrative” and “challenge your assumptions”, as if this is a creative writing class and not a statistical dead end. Women don’t owe me anything, fine, but reality doesn’t owe me hope either, so why is hope mandatory. This is the part where someone says “it gets better” with zero evidence, or links a study, or tells me to lift weights, as if muscle mass fixes being invisible. I am not angry all the time, I am tired, which is different and more permanent; do you really think repeating an unwinnable routine counts as living.

Here is the clean version, stripped of drama and insults, like a lab note. Subject is 38, male, isolated, underperforming, unloved, future probability of change low based on past behavior. External incentives minimal. Internal motivation degraded. That is it. I am not standing on a bridge, I am sitting at a desk typing because typing fills time. People confuse questioning life with wanting to die, but those are not identical, one is philosophical and one is logistical. I can ask “what is the point of living” the same way someone asks “what is the point of this job” without planning to quit today. Still, if you are reading this, answer honestly, not kindly, not with slogans. If you had my stats, my face, my history, my absence of proof that effort pays off, would you continue out of principle alone. Or is life just something we keep doing because stopping would make other people uncomfortable. I read quotes, I read threads, I read success stories, and they all assume a baseline I never had. Maybe the point is just to run the clock until it ends, maybe there is no point and we are supposed to admit that, maybe meaning is a luxury item. I don’t know, and I am not asking for rescue, I am asking for accuracy. If the answer is “there is no point but you do it anyway”, say that. If the answer is “there is a point and you missed it”, say that too. I am detached enough to hear it.

i hate that i still think about him every damn day. like seriously, what the actual hell is wrong with me?? it’s been almost a year now, and yet my brain still plays back the same damn memories like a broken-ass record. we broke up for good reasons—he was selfish, emotionally unavailable, and let’s be real, kinda manipulative—but here i am, stuck on this dude like he was the love of my damn life. i know better!! i tell myself all the time that it’s not love anymore, it’s just habit, it’s just comfort, blah blah blah, but none of that seems to help when i see something that reminds me of him and i instantly feel like shit. and what pisses me off the most is that he’s probably doing great, not even sparing me a single thought, while i’m out here spiraling over some random t-shirt he left at my place or that stupid playlist we used to drive around to. 😒

i’ve tried everything. blocking him didn’t help, just made me feel more pathetic because i still checked his socials through a fake account. going out with friends works... for like five minutes until someone mentions his name or something vaguely related and boom, my brain’s back in hell. even dated other guys and guess what? they all felt like filler characters in a story that’s already ended. like i was just going through the motions. one of them even told me i wasn’t really present and yeah, no shit dude. i’m trying but it’s like i’m stuck in emotional cement. and don’t get me wrong, i don’t miss how he made me feel like i was never enough or the stupid games he played when he was “too busy” to call. i miss the small, dumb shit like how he always brought me red bull without asking or how he said my name when he was half asleep. isn’t that just sick?? how can i know someone’s bad for me and still crave their attention like some love-starved idiot???

so yeah, tell me this—why the f*ck can’t i get over him?? is there some switch i forgot to flip? am i broken or just brainwashed from being treated like trash for so long that now i think it’s the norm? i try to analyze it, journal it, scream it into a pillow, and nothing changes. maybe i’m just terrified that no one else will get me the way he did... even if the “getting me” part came with a truckload of emotional damage. maybe it’s not really about him at all, maybe it’s about how i felt when i was with him—like i mattered, like someone chose me, even if he dropped me just as quick. i don’t know. all i know is this mess inside my chest won’t go away and i’m tired of pretending like i’m fine. if you’ve been through this—how the hell did you finally let go??? 💔

they're actually so horrific. I've been in real ones and have developed PTSD. and then I get made fun of. I cant control it. I cant get out of it. I hate it so bad.

I want everyone, people who did nothing wrong, people who did me wrong, literally anyone—to feel bad for me. I want them to look at me with those sorry little eyes, drowning in guilt; they'll feel bad and would do anything for me. Because they feel bad. They pity me, so they feel that they should do this and that for me. It's like having slaves; I won't have to do anything by myself because they can do it for me. Please, pity me. I want everyone to feel obligated to pay attention to me or stay beside me because they feel bad and think that's the least they can do for someone so pitiful. Why am I this way?

I took a few tests and they all say that I'm at risk of an eating disorder but I don't know if they're like accurate or not so if you could give me like accurate test that's very pretty cool because I don't think that I'm at risk because I'm not like really skinny you know so I don't think I am but if you guys have any accurate test that'd be pretty cool

love,

Melody (13 f)

brooo my mom keeps hitting me with a cord and I'm so sick of it, shes genuinely insane. When she chases me to hit my I usually run out and hide in the neighborhood, and my mom is psycho that she calls the police on me, what devastated me is that when I told my story to the police they didn't believe me over my mother and asked irrelevant questions about substance abuse and gangs and stuff, and just believed everything my mom twisted even though I said to them that she twists words and lies often. I think its funny bcz later my mom panicked and was all quiet like "idk what to do" then an hour later she completely switched up and saying stuff literally like "I have I right to hit my child!!"

"This little brat can't do shit to me or my job!!"

and thankfully I hid well enough in the closet (behind the long hanging dresses) that she couldn't find me because I was afraid she would beat tf out of me just for being angry again.

The fact that I actually believed the police would do anything is so pathetic

If there's one thing I learned from this whole experience is that police don't give a shit about their duties and will always believe the parent over the child. wanna know why? this happened before too!

The last time I ran out the house from her chasing me and I brought her home key (forgot to mention that when I run out, she locks the door so I cant come back in until the morning)

and she called the police on me for that.

I explained to the police that I took the key so that I wouldn't have to be stuck out there when most days was like 20 degrees and/or windy and cold. and even though I told him all that, they seriously made me give back the house key (there are three, so it's not like she needs all of them), AND give away my hiding spots for the key to my mother.

I fucking hate these people.

I told them the truth but why would they believe me?

I'm just another spoiled kid who has bad behaviors

except I'm not. I have straight a's in dual credit classes and honor classes planning to get associates by high school graduation and my English teacher even said I could be valedictorian if I attended any clubs or extra curriculars, except little do they know, their English special education teacher/coworker is a lot more fucking neglectful and insane than they think and love to say that "she simply doesn't want to go", bitch I asked and you say yes and then switch up last second every single time, I ask every possible chance, it gets so bad when I give some club advisors false answers, and I have to make up some dumb excuse like "My mom said she cant afford the gas". It gets so fucking annoying.

Not only that, but yesterday she literally threw my shoes away. YES, MY SHOES. Because she didn't like that I kept "leaving the house at night" (what she tells the police and everyone else, just straight lie) in reality, I'm literally being chased by you in that moment, when you are screaming with a cord, and sometimes some random object. Sorry, but I'm not staying in the house with a psycho like you that literally BROKE MY NOSE BEFORE?!?!?! fuck nah get me out of this crazy household T-T.

It gets so tiring.

You might be wondering, where's the father? Long story short, my mom kicked him out for being "lazy" (he did all the chores and I'm just now realizing how much he was working for all of us) and divorced him. making up bullcrap and acting all scared as if he's some kind of villain, "he's gonna take our house and leave us on the street" like omg stfu, ur not no victim. And I recently realized that shes been lying and msging that I hate him and want to keep living with my mother. I can't even text my dad and have to rely on my moms texts because my mom took away all my electronics and I don't know my dads email even If I had access to gmail during school. We moved like 40 minutes (driving) away, so even if I knew his address, I couldn't walk for 5-6 hours without getting lost.

OK that's it for this rant, just needed to get this off my chest ;-;

I love my gf she texts me mid game and i feel special

HE'S SO FINE

How tf do I get over someone?

My supervisor has grown accustomed of me to write legal documents for the company when it is not my expertise (I am not a paralegal!). It just takes effort and time to research how to write legal documents and instead of me doing my actual work, I just submit these drafted documents to the lawyer and the lawyer checks my work.

well hi. I'm William. I guess i'm a co-host? idk man. I don't even think I got my own age right on the tracker. help.

so there is this guy i like named ryklin. we r both in 7th grade and both 13. but i just found out today that he likes somone els and now i am really really really reallyyyyyyyy saddddddddd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The house on the left was once owned by an old German lady who watched me when I was younger. She shouldn't have since she hated kids and was very strict and had her own way about her. She had old floral wallpapers and big fluffy carpets and doilies on all of her old, mostly wooden, furniture. The house was small and clean. She had a tin of these white powdery cookies that I remember I wished were different cookies but they were decent to eat. I was only allowed to have one because I was fat. I remember she didn't believe in toilet paper and She left a fan next to the toilet so that you could air dry yourself quickly. Once the fan was turned off she left a pretty metal container filled with scented powder and a giant puff to powder yourself. I remember that she did all of this for me.. Not only because I was little then but I think because she didn't like kids and she didn't trust me. She was always calling the police and she never slept. She would stand by her windows or doors, The windows and doors had bars over them but you could still see her curtains and also a figure watching from all hours of the day or night from the street. Apparently she fell asleep by the window in her chair and her hip locked up so she was there until someone noticed. Her son took her to Florida or something and sold the house to Arabs with BB guns.

The Arabs took shifts guarding their new house. Anytime a bird or a squirrel or some other kind of animal crossed into their property line they would shoot them with BB guns. They had many children who also had BB guns, the house was surrounded. After a while there were no animals in sight, they must have learned to stay away from that area.

I guess people noticed and complained or maybe they just got tired or ran out of bullets but they ended up selling the house to these Spanish people. I think they're Mexican, they sound Mexican.

For whatever reason these Mexicans ripped out and redesigned the whole house. I think the inside must be worse but the outside, at least the front of the house looks pretty good landscape and fence-wise but when I'm in my house I can see into their backyard from one of my windows... they have the "under the bridge" large type of rusty barrel that they light up at night. There's a few barrels out there. I guess when they moved in they knocked down a lot of trees but they never cleaned them up so now it looks like crap and giant wood rats run around when they're disturbed for whatever reason. Almost every night during the week at least one of them goes out there in the night and lights up the barrels, sitting outside and playing very loud mariachi. they never do it at 5:00 or 6:00, It's always at like 11:00 at night, you can feel the ground shake. The cops don't come anymore, I'd like to think it's because that house is permanently blacklisted thanks to the old lady who held up their lines all day, every day. That person is out there so often that now they have a festival tent out in place of a gazebo. I'm not sure if he's drunk and doing karaoke with himself DJ style into the mic or if every night there is someone's quinceanera, it's all in very fast Spanish.

After Iconfessed she blocked me and cut contact I literally have no one or anything anymore I seraiously dont know what do besides rot bed I dont even Im crying as I type this Shes asking me to leave all mutal discord servers too And I just I want to enjoy those communites too but Iwant to respect her wishes and I just lost everything and everyone because of my stupid self Im sorry

My brother-in-law recently approached me with a request for his birthday - he wanted me to buy him a new bed. It's been a struggle for him financially; he shares an apartment with our mother-in-law and barely makes ends meet. His monthly income is around $1,000 at best, and he often can't cover his share of the rent. He holds a job at a local fast food joint, working merely 16 hours a week over two days, and he resists the idea of picking up more shifts. He says the job exacerbates his anxiety, particularly because his manager doesn’t allow him to listen to music or use his mobile phone during shifts, which he feels infringes on his personal freedoms.

When he called, he also mentioned a list of desired birthday gifts that he circulates annually among family members (he's 24, mind you), with the bed being a top priority since he’s been sleeping on a sofa ever since he moved back in with his mother. While I didn’t mind the idea of spending $200 on the bed, his financial management seemed questionable.

This became evident when I learned that he was planning a lavish week-long trip to Universal Studios, aiming to save up $3,000 for it the following year. Needless to say, I was taken abreed. The juxtaposition of his financial struggles with his ambitious vacation plans didn't sit right with me. I confronted him about his priorities, suggesting he reallocate his fun fund towards something as necessary as a bed. Though I am comfortably off, making a six-figure salary myself, the principle of the matter irked me - seeking aid while saving for an extravagant trip seemed irrational.

I withdrew my offer to buy the bed, letting him know that he needs to rethink his spending habits. Am I an ass for doing this? Should I have just bought the bed and ignored his questionable financial ethics?

Imagine this scenario being played out on a reality TV show. The tensions and moral debates would surely make for dramatic television, sparking debates among viewers. Would the audience side with me in thinking his request was unreasonable given his saving goals, or would they perceive my decision as too harsh?

Have you ever sat in your room, staring at the blank wall while the world outside continues its relentless pace, and wondered why you even bother to wake up each day? I mean, seriously, I'm nineteen and still asking myself this elementary question: What’s the point? Life, as I see it, feels like one stacked disappointment after another. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel like I’m just a ghost wandering through a living nightmare. Friends? Yeah, apparently I have a couple, but how many of them actually care? It’s like playing a game of pretend where everyone’s wearing masks, and I’m trapped inside my own. We laugh; we talk about pointless things that mean absolutely nothing. But deep down, I know that beneath the surface of those smiles is a sea of apathy, drifting quietly past as time ticks on. Like, do you ever get the sense that everyone is as lost as you are, but we’re just too scared to admit it? Days bleed into nights, and what do I have to show for it? A collection of half-finished projects and dreams that crumble every time I actually muster the courage to pursue them. Take school, for instance. I’m pushing through it, but I honestly can’t fathom why it matters. The grades, the pressure, the endless cycle of studies and exams—it all feels so trivial when you think about it. Not to mention the regrets that linger like smoke in the air, taunting me over lost opportunities and things I wanted to say but never did. How did I let it get this far? This overwhelming feeling of inadequacy weighs on me like an anchor, making it hard to even get out of bed some days. I mean, am I the only one who feels like I’m screaming in a crowded room and no one hears me? Sometimes the silence feels deafening. The moments between the chaotic noise of everyday life are filled with self-doubt, pulling me down into thoughts that spiral like a roller coaster out of control. Relationships are complicated, aren’t they? I see my friends dating, laughing, living lives full of passion, and I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I find that spark, that fire that lights up the mundane? I scroll through social media, each post a reminder of what I lack. Life looks perfect through a screen, but in reality, it’s just a highlight reel, right? Are we all just actors in our own stories? I keep waiting for the moment when I finally feel alive, yet every time I think it might happen, it slips through my fingers like sand. What if all I am is a name on a list, an afterthought in someone else’s tale? I try to fill my days, consuming content, watching movies, playing videos games—it’s like I’m escaping into different universes where my real life feels even more distant. The thrilling escapades and heroic quests completely contrast the mediocrity of my existence. Yet, when the screen fades to black, I’m left alone again, confronting the echoing reality of my confusion and despair. Do you feel this way too? Like a spectator, just watching your life go by? I thought adulthood came with the promise of freedom and adventure, but here I am trapped in an existence I didn’t sign up for. At times, I think about the possible paths I could take—the ones I didn’t choose, the risks I was too scared to take. So many “what ifs” floating in my head. What if I had gone after that girl I liked in high school? What if I had taken a year off to travel? What if I actually pursued what I loved instead of what everyone else expected? We live our lives pretending to follow a script, but what’s written doesn’t reflect who we are inside. And here’s the kicker; despite all that feeling, I still wake up every day. I won’t lie and say that the night doesn’t sometimes stretch endlessly and leave me feeling hopeless, but a part of me clings to the thought that maybe, just maybe, it could get better. There’s still a glimmer of hope buried somewhere under all this confusion that tells me there has to be a reason for my existence, but for now, I’m just lost in the chaos. Who knows if I’ll ever find my way? Do you ever feel the same, or am I just rambling into the void? Why are we here? It’s a question I’m still struggling to answer.