Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

There's no room for me to breathe. I'm underwater, sinking in the ocean that I am afraid of. The ocean is made of despair, of sadness, of everything I can't control and every part of me that's broken.

I'm drowning.

And nobody cares enough to save me.

being in the corporate world for so many years, i have realized just how easy it is to fall into the trap of emotions when you're constantly working with people. at 35, here I am wondering how to stop this frivolous cycle of falling in love with my colleagues over and over again! maybe it's the eight-hour days and endless meetings where you get drawn into their quirks which make them irresistible sometimes, or perhaps it's the camaraderie established on shared professional challenges that makes everything more intense. i mean, who wouldn't find someone attractive when they're so passionate about what they do? but there are times when professionalism should be maintained above all else and not influenced by a personal attachment.

it's really rather inconvenient for me when these feelings spark up often against reason; i keep telling myself that we must maintain clear boundaries between personal life and our work environment otherwise i'm inviting unnecessary complications within my career trajectory. maintaining this constant balance seems a hard-won battle especially since people have seamless ways of winning someone's heart without intending to! knowing fully well the repercussions it causes on my overall productivity levels during tasks or decision-making processes drives me nuts. worse still: each time i try to rationalize or suppress those butterflies in my stomach only leads towards tangled scenarios which eventually become embarrassing if mishandled! think about closing contentious deals while your heart does somersaults whenever you hear one particular voice!

someone might suggest focusing entirely on workload as distraction but there'll always be occasions such as project collaborations requiring interpersonal engagement! unfortunately attempts like avoiding any rapport beyond professionality barely lasts long enough until natural attraction reignites through little things!! simple gestures: an offer of coffee during break room conversations move beyond what could be considered friendly intentions blurring defined lines previously set...and then i'm back at square one struggling yet again determining if current scenario is just infatuation feverishness destined fizzle out soon...or genuine interest worth exploring further entertainment sake or sense plausible outcome eventual turbulence inside office walls...oh quandary!

at 49 years old, i've arrived at a rather unceremonious realization: nothing makes me happy. it’s strange because society programs us with a checklist for happiness, doesn’t it? i climbed the corporate ladder, securing a lucrative position as a senior executive that one could only dream of. financial security was supposed to be synonymous with contentment, or so they said. but every payday, every bonus, and every dollar accumulated in my bank account seemed to lose its luster within days. i attended countless seminars and read numerous self-help books yet the existential void within me remained unfilled. when i banked my first six-figure check, i briefly basked in what i assumed was joy. but the novelty of a swollen account balance wore off faster than i care to admit.

I figured maybe i needed something more soulful, like marriage and a family. i received talk after talk about how a loving husband and a couple of kids would complete me; “your own personal cheerleaders in this rat race!” my mother constantly reminded me. dating was a nightmare coated in fake smiles and dreadful first-date questions, which i obliged to endure. against all odds, i did marry. i am married. yet even within the once-romantic confines of what was supposed to be ‘happily ever after', i often feel as though I'm in a partnership devoid of passion and genuine connection. this supposed 'holy grail' of familial bliss feels more like treading water than anything else.

having a home with a white picket fence painted the picture of the quintessential american dream i bought into it: lock, stock, and barrel. talk about a classic case of bait and switch; i found myself obsessing over the curb appeal and interior aesthetics, contemplating if a new sectional in the living room would spark joy. but let me tell you, there is no depth or warmth to hardwood floors that compensates for an empty, echoing house. similarly with cars – the gleaming metal beasts parked strategically in the driveway as status symbols – all nothing more than shiny cages on wheels. behind the tinted windows of my latest luxury car, the road ahead feels as mundane as stepping onto a public transit bus.

are these the metrics by which we should measure our happiness? it is almost cruel how these societal benchmarks – job, marriage, possessions – are willed to us as recipes for happiness, when instead they align more with a cycle of perennial dissatisfaction. why do we perpetuate this fallacy? often, i catch myself longing for the present moment to end as quickly as it began, as if i am perpetually waiting for a revelatory experience that never arrives. “chase after this, achieve this, by forty you’ll be settled,” they said; when in reality, here i am with these supposedly gratifying possessions yet feeling no different than the restless, aspiring 20-year-old who began this relentless pursuit. tell me, what am i missing in this equation? should I try to completely change my job for something that i love? (but no idea... what could I love as a job...)

There’s a heaviness in living a life that no longer feels like your own, a script I keep reading aloud, even as the words crumble in my mouth. We’re together, not for love, but for convenience—a fragile, lifeless thread binding us to a home that feels more like a stage.

If I were to leave, the company would fall apart. If he were to leave, the foundation of this house we’ve built would vanish. And so, we stay—partners in duty, strangers in love.

This home is not a sanctuary for my heart. My tears fall unnoticed, my sadness stirs no concern. It doesn’t matter if I cry, if I ache, or if I feel invisible. Here, respect is fleeting, care is transactional, and love appears only when it serves him. I am the pillar holding this family aloft—the financial support, the stepping stone. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t show just how much he resents me.

And yet, the thought of leaving terrifies me. In the culture I come from, divorce is a scarlet letter, a brand that whispers “failure,” “outcast,” “whore.” Here, it feels as though it’s always the woman who must keep the peace, who must sacrifice herself at the altar of family, no matter how much it hurts. That burden sits heavy on my shoulders, pressing me into silence.

Then there’s our child—our beautiful, innocent child who looks at us and sees something I can no longer feel. He sees “loving parents.” What are we teaching him? That love doesn’t matter as long as you stay? That a hollow home is better than a broken one? One day, he’ll grow up. One day, he’ll understand. And I dread the moment he looks at us and thinks, Mom and Dad stayed together because of me, but there was no love. The thought of that realization shatters me.

Am I raising him in a home that is whole, or a home that is empty? What lessons about love, about self-worth, are we leaving him with? And yet, I can’t bring myself to drag his tiny heart through the chaos of courtrooms, through the wreckage of a family torn apart.

So here I am, trapped in this endless limbo—afraid to stay, afraid to leave. Afraid of what the world will say, of what my child will feel. This fear, this sadness, this weight—it’s my constant companion.

I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know if there’s a way out, or if this is simply my fate. But I carry this story every day, and I needed to release it, even if just into the void.

To anyone walking this same fragile, uncertain path—know that you’re not alone.

So basically, I was good friends with my ex, Eli, and I convinced him to join the XC team for fun since I was also on the team too last year. We both made it along with a couple of my friends. As I got closer with my ex, we started dating and after a couple of days, I honestly kind of just lost feelings for him, but dealt with it because I didnt want to seem like a bitch. And so like I spent quite a bit of time with my XC friends as I felt more comfortable with them, 2 of them J and M are one of my good friends, along with Ems and A, who are in my grade. (J and M are a year older than me. ) And so like I mainly hung out with J since she was an older sis to me yk? So like I hung out with her and sat down on the bus with her when we were going to one of our races, we were also doing karaoke with our XC team on the bus with our coach too. So we were blasting on some music and singing our hearts out. Me, Ems, and M were probably singing the most, basically screaming out the song lyrics (also to add M is a dude), so like as I was singing along with M, I took a glance at my then bf and he smiled but I could honestly tell he was like upset or like jealous. I didnt really think about it much, but I did tell Ems, which I told her in my native tongue, which she responed with a nod and gave me a look to tell her later when we got off the bus. So like when it was about to be my race, I felt really uncomfortable when I had to take off my undershirt because I knew that if I wore the undershirt, I would have over-heated with my jersey over it too, but I felt uncomfortable because my jersey was one of those sleeveless ones and it was a bit big on me as well, which it did show a bit of my bra, which I felt very uncomfortable. Oh and I was then talking to E about it in my native tongue while she whispered back in English. (She's not very fluent in our native tongue.) And when we went back, we were still having karaoke and then my bf was trying to gain my attention by showing me one of those AI generated videos of animals, which I thought was really weird. Now that I've broken up with him, I realized that he was being quite racist to me about my Asian heritage and that was a huge red flag! Also he then proceeds to date my friend, who at the time didnt know he was my ex, so I dont blame her. And then another one of my friends, this time is a friend I dont really like (im pretty sure she has an anime and asian men fetish), liked him and told me so yeah. So lowkey, mortal of the story is to not date people who are racist to you, and dont date your boy bsf.. (The letters and name are not their actual names as I do respect their privacy.)

I think that working life itself, the office environment, is an absolute mess. In times of crisis, when the bureaucratic structure should be most remembered and reflections made, it's completely forgotten, and measures more suited to a social center or something like that are used instead, and anything goes to make them fit within the established work framework. My boss is in serious trouble for using his authority however he pleases, and in fact, he didn't seem to care at all; he was convinced that no one noticed. I don't understand, in principle, how there can be people in an office who don't consider that everything stems from legality, especially in a place where individuals come together to carry out specific interactions. My boss doesn't have the slightest idea what he's talking about; he operates solely to secure a specific territory—in other words, the clearest evidence of a barbarian in these parts, for God's sake. Personally, if he dies, it would be a huge benefit to the office, since he's essentially anchored in the middle of it all, using whatever means necessary to sustain himself and gain an advantage.

The man lived with the mindset, after a problem he had with a girl I was involved with, that the key to avoiding further problems was to drop the matter and minimize contact. These are not the kind of people who can handle anything beyond the routine, even though, by God's grace, these routines are what truly matter and where the work is done. These people haven't the faintest idea what it means to be at work; instead, they exploit it to gain social advantages and then move into other circles, without giving any space whatsoever to demonstrating their abilities. I partly understand why their dedication is so sacred to them, because things don't work the same way as in teaching, where the key lies in effective social interaction that contributes to the learning outcomes of the classes, given that the person is a teacher. In those environments, the game of manipulating others through coercion is what matters, or is usually considered to matter, a concept that even has its own levels of structure thanks to possible evaluations. However, in a bureaucratic environment like this, this isn't possible. In fact, here, since everything is about results in the bureaucratic structure, the individual doesn't know at all how to manage or defend themselves and lives entirely at the mercy of the social climate, completely abandoning the professional framework and acting solely for the sake of an image, which apparently is the last resort when one doesn't know how to operate.

Frankly, I feel that my boss doesn't know how to do his job and lacks the general management skills necessary to establish himself. He's a complete failure, through and through. He lives hand to mouth, and as a teacher, he doesn't realize that the foundation of any endeavor is training, regardless of the field. This tells me that he certainly knows how to navigate the teaching world, but outside of that, he doesn't know how to operate. In other words, he doesn't truly understand what teaching is, except in certain defined ways, barely for the sake of fame, where, indeed, fame and results often coincide, and doubt is allowed to arise from both the public and the teacher himself. I'm disappointed because he lives on the fly, there's no planning, I don't feel like I'm dealing with a professional, and he just gets out of problems however he can, at the expense of people's ignorance. The man thought I would follow an order he gave him regarding my personal life, an area in which he had no involvement. He's a nuisance; he's someone I don't even want to think about anymore.

Even when I was in the other office, where I met him, there were problems with him, but the whole thing still had a teaching spirit; there was a framework to work from, which this guy doesn't. I see that many people who go into management do it from the perspective of someone who gets everything done, by any means necessary, when the issue is about context. But they don't see that; instead, they focus on self-importance through results, only seeking what's necessary to enhance their image, to say they're doing something and promoting innovation—a form of forced inclusion in a world they don't fit into. What a failure! I never imagined encountering something like that these days.

Everyone in that office is focused on establishing who they are and ensuring that their position isn't questioned through interactions with others. In other words, in that office, for heaven's sake, they don't care about establishing results and actually sharing them, which is what allows for an evaluation of each employee. There are no schemes to individualize each worker, that is left to chance; they should be concise, allow for profiling, and be the means by which socialization is established.

In that office, the goal is to create a mass of people based on their position. It's socialization through the position that defines the individual, not the position itself in terms of work. It's a social center; in fact, profiles are established around socialization, not work. Even within this system, work itself becomes sacrificial under the same scheme of exclusion and subsequent inclusion of the individual. It's truly horrifying. I'm tired of seeing how this kind of "safeguarding" is experienced. Of course, social interaction isn't protected, it's not measured, and it shouldn't be. But how am I supposed to talk to them about this? Naturally, the work situation there will never improve; there's no way, because there are no standards to strive for. Frankly, trying to talk to them about this is a complete waste of breath, absolutely a waste of breath, and this is in a university office. None of them inspire confidence in me to have this kind of conversation, because none of them, as is often the case in classes, are fully engaged with the material. Instead, they focus on making pathetic attempts to pass exams just to stay with the group, of course, at the expense of effective socialization, just like what happens and continues to happen, for God's sake, in school.

In that office, the last thing I find is the office itself; I feel like I've wasted my time with these people. I came here to work with professionals, and that's not what I find, that's not what I get, it's simply not there. There isn't even a serious commitment to the company other than avoiding looking bad in front of someone, just like in school—in fact, I think it even happens at university. And then they expect us not to notice? These people never left school; they stayed there. I've been the only one—and that's why I'm singled out—who looks after the structure, the working environment, but it can't be that I'm given a position for that reason alone. Rather, that should be the norm, the starting point for everyone, the least expected, because it's the foundation. There should be a focus on workplace safety, on conducting reviews, on knowing which standards to adhere to, so that it's not just about pleasing my boss, which is essentially just doing things for the sake of doing them, to meet their expectations, which leads to being overly demanding and avoiding conflict. In that office, everything is done with the aim of preventing conflicts, instead of, for goodness' sake, confronting them and mobilizing the social fabric. I don't know who I'm with there, I don't know. I don't feel I can talk to them about anything, nor that I should, because they won't understand. They most likely think the office is for networking, when that's earned through hard work, through earning a living. The office isn't a social hub, and it can't be, because the company's objectives are just an excuse to keep doing the same thing. It's disrespectful to the company, its management, its structure, its commitment. I ask again, but to which of them can I say that if they're not on the same page? I'm tired of hearing that everyone is helping out...for God's sake, this isn't a family.

I don't know if I am being too dramatic about it or not, but today for the first time my mom is not at home and its just me and my father. She has gone to meet her cousins for a few days. I don't know but there is a strange silence in the entire house. I was mostly alone at home throughout the day and its hitting me so hard that its her presence that makes this house, home. And now when she's not here, it feels like my home is missing. I don't know if its because my periods are due or I am actually sad, but its not even 24 hours and I have already cried multiple times. I wasn't living at home for the past 6 years because of college so I didn't really realise her absence much but I don't know I am feeling very guilty about not spending enough time with her when she's at home. She's busy with her work and I am mostly at my own. I really regret not spending much time with her. And who knows how much time do I have left with her. I'm just overthinking about it but life is so unpredictable.

hey y'all! I'm signing off for the summer! (we have to turn in our computers) so I will see you guys later!!!!!!! cant wait to tell more crazy stories!

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.

[Translated from Portuguese. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

Hi guys. Well… to start, I am (m). I prefer not say my age but I am very young. What I want to say, and also ask for advice, is about something that is bothering me a lot in the last months. Since February actually.

Like I was saying, I am a boy, I really like rock music in general. My favorite band is Linkin Park. I am learning keyboard for about one year. I have actually some talent for music in general. Since I was little I was always good with it. Because of that, some time ago I made a band with some friends. I am the vocalist and keyboard player. We never really did anything. But the band exists.

This was just a superficial presentation of me. Nothing very important.

But the real question is that, like I said, in the last times I am having kind of bad thoughts. Things like being unmotivated with life, having to see other people becoming better than me and also having to hear words of less value against me. This is routine. My parents always raised me to be the best in everything I do. And in some way this is right. I also always wanted to be the best. And this is not an egoist thought. If there are people better than me, ok. I really don’t care. But I have to stay quiet and hear many things my parents say that end up hurting me. They don’t say it with bad intention. I know that. They love me and want my good. But I always feel inferior to everyone. Sometimes I hear things from my parents like: “are you dumb?” or “you always make the same mistake”. Things like that. I ended accepting a reality that I am useless. If I disappeared, maybe others would be happier.

This is not just a teenager nonsense talk (I know, every teenager would say that). But I really need advice or help. Because if I really am a burden or just useless, there is no reason for me to continue existing and disturbing others. I always manage to make my parents sad or angry. Even without wanting and trying to improve. I love them a lot and I admire the patience they have with me (it’s not little).

Another thing that affects me is the feeling of emptiness that I feel all the time. Things that made me happy before or that I liked to do became just… common things. I don’t feel pleasure doing anything I liked. Playing videogames, playing instruments like before. And listening to some Linkin Park songs, I realize a bit of what I am talking about. In parts like: “In the end, it doesn’t even matter” from the song In the End. Or “who cares if one more light goes out, in the sky of a million stars”, from the song One More Light.

I feel that even living, being successful, working with something I like, getting married and being happy, even then I will not be complete. Because everything is very temporary. One day everything will end and… then? All of this was for nothing? I lived for nothing?

I simply lost the will to live. It doesn’t make me happy anymore to think about tomorrow. About what I will do.

I am kind of giving up. Because living until 70, or 80 with this disgust of myself. This daily self-deprecation that torments me. I can’t take supporting this alone anymore. And I don’t have anyone to talk to. I don’t want to be labeled as weak. Or things like that. I wanted someone that really understands me and doesn’t say: “ah but this is age. Soon it passes.”

My conclusion about life is this. Something that I don’t know why or for what it exists.

Sorry for possible bad orthography and for the text being kind of confusing and tiring. But I would appreciate anyone who could read this vent and try to give me advice.

Sorry too if I marked the wrong tag. I am new here in the community.

But anyway, thank you everyone.

Growing up as a Black girl,
you never know what the future holds.
You learn fast.
Too fast.
Drugs, alcohol, sex—
before I even knew my times tables,
I knew what the world was about.
The "birds and the bees" talk?
Didn’t need it.
By the time I was born,
I already had four older siblings.
The oldest? grown.
twenty four , twenty five—
a whole life ahead,
while mine was just beginning.
Seven years later—
I’m no longer the youngest.
Now I’m the oldest.
Fourteen years later—
I’m in the middle, but still the oldest.
A split family teaches you choices
you were never supposed to make.
My mother has feelings.
My father has feelings.
My stepmother has feelings.
But what about mine?
How do you think I felt
when I realized I was the crack in their foundation?
That my mother’s pregnancy
shattered my father and stepmother’s family?
That my father had four kids before I even existed?
That his arm carried their names in ink,
but when I asked to be added,
he told me no—because of the “pain.”
Pain?
You wanna talk about pain?
I was cheated on,
manipulated—over and over,
by the same person.
And I let them.
I was dumb.
I almost got into fights
over people I didn’t even want.
Because I was supposed to.
Because I was taught
that disrespect had to be answered.
I hit puberty early, 5th grade.
First time I got catcalled? Eleven.
Let that sink in—
Eleven.
At the store with my older sister,
a grown man called out to us.
She was in her 20s—
but he meant both of us.
My body grew before I was ready,
so men saw a woman where a child stood.
By middle school,
the world was dying from COVID,
but I was already grieving
the childhood I never had.
How many times have I been called beautiful
by someone who shouldn’t even be looking?
How many times have I been told—
"You can’t wear that."
Because my chest was bigger.
Because men were coming over.
Because my mother was afraid.
Not for them.
For me.
Now I’m a freshman,
but people think I’m older.
I’m used to it.
On some level, it’s a compliment—
on every other, it’s not.
It just means I never got time to be a kid.
So yeah—
when I do something that seems childish,
that’s little me fighting to exist.
When I scream over dumb things,
when I get excited like I’m five again—
that’s Nyana.
That’s the kid in me,
the one I refuse to let die.
And when they stare—
I stare back.
Because the version of me you see,
that’s the one you want to box,
the one you want to label.
But I’m so much more than the skin they see,
than the years they’ve added on me.
I'm the kid who never got to be a kid.
They want me to act my age?
What’s my age?
When I’m a reflection of everyone’s expectations
and not my own truth?
I never got the luxury of slowing down,
of making mistakes without the weight of judgment.
Never had the time to just be.
Just to be young.
Just to be free.
And how do you think I feel
growing up in a world
where men have “weird relationships”
with their girl “best friends”?
It’s just weird.
But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Not when my own father
once said he would "hit"
if his gave him a chance.
I saw my first "film" at seven—
not on purpose,
but because I wanted to be like every other kid.
Wanted to watch YouTube,
wanted to laugh at the same jokes,
wanted to feel like I belonged.
But the things I saw?
They weren’t for me.
Not for a seven-year-old
who still needed to feel safe in their own room.
I didn’t know what to do with what I saw.
Didn’t know how to unsee it.
But I learned,
fast.
Just like I learned in fourth grade
that sleepovers weren’t what they were on TV.
That not every mother is a mother first.
That sometimes, a mother wants to be a friend,
and when that happens,
you become the collateral damage.
She let her daughter do things no child should do,
and I was there,
forced into it,
too young to understand,
too scared to say no.
And when I got in trouble for it,
when I told my mother it wasn’t my fault,
guess who still got in trouble?
Guess who didn’t.

So yeah, when I laugh too loud,
when I hold on to the simple things—
that’s me reaching for the years they took.
I’m reclaiming what’s mine—
the innocence I was denied,
the joy I never got to wear.
And if that makes you uncomfortable,
I don’t care.
Because after all this time,
I owe it to myself to just be.
To be me.

I feel a little awkward sharing this. It makes me feel a bit insensitive, given that people have real active issues on here. But, I want some advice on how to fit in better. I’ve always felt like an outsider peeking in, like I don’t belong or fit in anywhere. I always try by going and talking to people, but I always feel like I’m forcing them to include me. It’s been this way since I was in elementary school. I’m awkward and quiet, and I’ve always been like that. Even when I do make friends, I always find myself questioning if I’m inconveniencing them. I just feel different. Should I try to go out more? Maybe join some kind of club? How do I make this work?

Personally, I don't like office parties because that's precisely where battlegrounds, underlying factions, and unspoken truths are revealed. My friend used to avoid them, thanks to her extreme social nature, but she acted in ways that avoided explanations, allowing her to move about as she pleased. She knows that these events are the place to let her guard down, but precisely because of this desire, everyone takes advantage of the situation, making accusations and putting you in a difficult position unexpectedly. It's not easy for her; personally, it was her way of navigating her life according to her needs, in order to expand professionally, or so I think, since I see that's what she's doing.

She has completely excluded me from her life, not because I bother her, but because if I were to get involved in her hectic life, I'd have to start by creating distance. Whenever I get involved in something that disrupts my routine, I somehow try to get out of it; I don't want to be there, I try to distance myself, I fight to make it let me go. In fact, that's what she was aiming for. Since her livelihood, her way of integrating herself into the office, is through the complete disruption of other people's space, she tried at all costs to make it as undisruptive as possible, in order to prevent me from becoming defensive. It's not her usual way of being; she has me blocked in every way, and it's difficult when I see her. However, this has led me to feel marginalized, and therefore to seek her affection, which she does provide, but only in a limited way, to prevent me from losing control and becoming defensive again. She always sought my support in some way, since she sees me as capable of being loyal to her under any circumstances.

Up to this point, from what I've said about her, she appears to be someone striving to build a life that is not only professional but also social. It's clear that her situation, as I observe it—a radical abandonment of friendships, of people who are each in their own world—has left her somewhat isolated, solely at the mercy of those professionals, but not all of them are truly professional, because when it comes down to it, her emotional life is completely neglected. This has led her to close herself off to romantic relationships, solely to protect herself from potential abusers at all costs, and also because it would mean her progress would be jeopardized. She won't abandon me, because she needs that emotional connection; besides her professional life, there's also her family, which demands her attention. I find no rest in any aspect of her life. In this sense, I need someone who is there for me when I need them, and of course, she must ensure that this lack is not evident in any way. Of course, she also needs to ensure that I am not in a state of absolute deprivation, because that would immediately lead to an outburst of anger. What a complex structure this woman has built! She is, and no one can deny it, struggling to define her life, to find balance, which is common for anyone after graduating from university, especially one still living within the family, particularly at an age when such things are supposed to be settled. In this sense, I observe her hurried nature, and it makes me understand why she has been so risky and yet so cautious in all her actions with me, as well as with others in her office conversations, in terms of setting boundaries, both professionally and in fulfilling her family obligations, in order to reciprocate their efforts.

She doesn't have it easy, of course. For my part, I'm calm, with my family life devoid of connection, my professional life equally so, my office life equally so, and emotionally, well, somewhat lacking as well, because ultimately such absences represent all-consuming barriers, as in her case, precisely because of cultural pressures, constantly leading me to feel hopeless and therefore resort to strategies to cope, but never replacing the foundation of a pleasant relationship. Indeed, we were both lacking something, but we were also completely fearful of abuse, which is why our union has been successful. Hence, I also acted to safeguard her space, to ensure that she didn't feel, in any way, drawn to me given the social pressures she was under, where her actions, in fact, were disruptive and worthy of condemnation, allowing the environment to take advantage of her. We both took precautions against this, at all costs, leading us to define our boundaries in this regard, which in effect consisted of making a whole journey, given that we had the goal and needed to be with another who made us feel like just another one and we could, who would consolidate our together.

I miss her deeply. In the office, we're so entrenched that we know any attempt to distance myself from her is a completely unacceptable act. My boss tried it, and believing a complaint wouldn't be possible, he came up with something—just to play on our prejudices—that everyone else saw. It showed I had ingenuity, and therefore, no one knew where my next move would come from if they tried. She and I form a kind of counter-government because neither of us is bound by our department, as the office administration intends, supposedly to prevent interdepartmental conflicts. My boss, thinking he could get his way with me regarding breach of trust—something that didn't happen with her because she defended herself—was surprised to find he couldn't. This also meant that the appearance of weakness that others used to perceive in me was no longer seen as weakness, but as just another weakness among them. The fact that I'm not socializing with everyone no longer means that my weak appearance is something I accept. Of course, they try to contradict that appearance, suggesting that everyone is expressing the effects of a debilitating loneliness.

My boss thought that because of the trust I'd developed with someone who was like a father to me, and because I considered him as such—something that hadn't happened—it was having an effect, that it was going to control me, that I wouldn't want to lose him like I did with my family, that I wouldn't want to lose anyone, but I didn't care. My devotion to him no longer indicated that I was needy, not at all, as is often assumed. In this sense, the others, through my boss, realized that my actions were like theirs: despite not socializing, I sought to remain rooted in nothing, unless it was something I enjoyed, which is what happened with the girl. Given the girl's fame, it clearly implied to my boss that being with her, unlike him, suggested that, given her distance and lack of awareness of others' perspectives, his obsession with me was excessive, even abusive, all to bolster his image. This is why, at the end of the recent party, everyone acted in a way that made it clear he was still acting in her best interests, completely ignoring everyone else and the company we work for.

I don't like parties because they always mark a turning point. At parties, formalities are no longer maintained; instead, they are loosened, revealing what happened when they were being used—those inconsistencies where they pretended nothing was wrong, all in the name of safeguarding social order, but requiring those involved to be vigilant about these inconsistencies. The atmosphere in the office reflects a reign of absolute control. Failing to do so may actually lead to harm, hence the constant complaints of lack of control. The idea isn't to be writing constantly; rather, this indicates that the office is unable to manage its own group, because it expands its influence beyond its own walls to consolidate its power, leading to the formation of factions.

You don’t really know it’s toxic when you’re a kid. It’s just your normal. You think everyone’s house is like this, that every kid walks on eggshells, trying not to set someone off. That it’s normal to feel your stomach drop when you hear a car pull in the driveway. That it’s just how things are when conversations go from 0 to screaming in seconds. But then you grow up, and you start seeing things differently. You hear your friends talk about their parents, the way they support them, how they actually listen when they have a problem, and it hits you—your childhood was not normal. It was not okay. And suddenly, everything you tried to ignorre, to downplay, to make excuses for, comes rushing back.

One of the biggest signs you grew up in a toxic family? You don’t know how to take a compliment. When someone says something nice about you, your first instinct is to brush it off, to laugh awkwardly, to assume they’re just being polite. Because you spent years being told you weren’t enough. Not smart enough, not good enough, not anything enough. And now, even when you know better, it’s like your brain refuses to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re actually worth something. Instead, you’re always waiting for the but. The insult that follows the rare compliment. "You did well on that test, but don’t get cocky." "You look nice today, but too bad you don’t dress like that all the time." So when someone is genuinely kind to you, you feel uncomfortable. Like it’s a trick. Like love and approval are things you have to earn, not just something you get for existing.

Another sign? You apologize. Constantly. For everything. Even thiings that aren’t your fault. You say sorry when someone bumps into you. You say sorry when you ask a question, when you talk too much, when you take up space. Because growing up, you learned that the smallest mistake could set someone off, that your feelings weren’t valid unless they were convenient for everyone else. So you learned to shrink yourself. To be small. To be invisible. And now, even when no one is mad at you, you still feel like you’re in trouble. Like at any moment, someone’s going to yell, to criticize, to make you feel like a burden. And the worst part? Half the time, you don’t even realize you’re doing it. It’s just who you are now.

And then there’s trust. Or, well, lack of it. Because when the people who were supposed to protect you, love you, make you feel safe, were the same ones who hurt you, lied to you, manipulated you… how are you supposed to just trust anyone? How are you supposed to believe people mean what they say, that they won’t turn on you the second you let your guard down? You don’t. Instead, you assume everyone has a hidden agenda. That every act of kindness has a cost. That no one stays, not really. And so, you keep your distance. You let people in just enough to not be alone, but never enough that they could actually hurt you. And maybe one day, you’ll learn how to unlearn all of this. How to stop waiting for the worst to happen. How to believe that love doesn’t have to be painful. But right now? Right now, you’re just trying to get through the day without feeling like you’re still stuck in a house you left years ago. 😓

I'm not really good at talking and describing my feelings since i don't really talk about so im sorry of this doesnt really make sense

I'm 17 and im in college now, i really like what i do but when im working the loneliness always creeps back a little. I don't have any friends in class even though i so try to talk to them. Everyone in class seemed to do so well, everyone has their little group and when u look around the classroom u can see that im the only one sitting alone. I havw a few online friends but my bsf went mia on me so that also sucked. I don't really know how to let that loneliness die, i just want to make friends too you know?