Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

What the hell is happening in my own house?? I used to think I had it together—career, family, routine. But lately, I wake up already exhausted, and it’s not because of work or age. It’s these damn teenage kids!!! Every day is a damn psychological battle!!! Mood swings, slammed doors, sarcastic answers, zero respect for boundaries!!! And don’t get me started on screen time—why the hell am I always the bad guy for setting limits??? I try to keep calm, but my voice always ends up shaking, like my whole system’s on overload. Hormones?? Sure. But what about mine?? Am I supposed to just keep absorbing the chaos until I crack?? Is that the plan?? Because it sure feels like it.

Even basic things like dinner or chores turn into full-blown negotiations!!! I’m not their damn project manager!!! I ask for plates to be cleared, and somehow I’m triggering a “mental health episode”??? I didn’t sign up for emotional hostage situations every evening!!! And don’t give me that “gentle parenting” crap—I’m not trying to be their friend, I’m trying to keep the household running without going clinically insane!!! Do they see what they’re doing??? Or am I the only one who’s drowning in this mess??? I walk into their rooms and it smells like puberty and rebellion had a baby. I’m not even trying to fix them anymore. I’m just trying not to lose myself in the process.

So yeah, I’m scared. Scared that one day I’ll snap and not come back from it. I have intrusive thoughts I don’t want. I hear my own voice and don’t recognize it. Ever feel that?? Like you’re watching yourself spiral but still expected to drive carpool and make dentist appointments??? I go through the motions like a damn automaton, but inside, I’m questioning my own stability every five minutes!!! Is this what it looks like before you lose your mind??? Or am I already halfway there??!! I don’t need a diagnosis or sympathy. I just needed to write this out before I scream at a wall or throw my phone at something. Maybe someone out there gets it. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter.

I have ADHD and I will sometimes have panic attacks which I find myself stuck in. Why is it that my ADHD gets in my way? How do I stop it?

It's incredible. I don't want to be surrounded by these ineffective people anymore—could it be that my other two posts were published? The notifications aren't showing up. Why are they wasting so much of my time? I'm getting to the point of exposing my privacy in all its splendor. In fact, I'm tired of writing about it, acting in silence. I want to express myself no matter what, say what I feel, without any filter. I now understand how someone I knew, an older woman, felt.

Why can't I be calm? Why is it that everyone interrupts my routine? Why do I have to silently stop them so they'll leave me alone? Why can't I say things upfront? Why the hell do I have to keep everything to myself? Besides, I always have to go around giving hypocritical hugs, lying affection, all to look good and avoid problems. My life can't continue like this. I want everything to change once and for all. I want to throw everything away because I can't stand it.

I can't stand my job. They've only made things worse for me. I can't stand my parents; they've only served to stress me out. I hate my aunt, everything I have to change for her. I want to leave these people, go far away, never to return. The pressure I'm under here is too much. I have to do it.

I have to start surrounding myself with projects that contribute, with people who contribute, with people who aren't just for a short while but who truly want to stay in my life, in a context, to provide support—it doesn't help, they're different things—and we all help each other grow. I no longer want to be surrounded by individuals who are out of place with me, and those who are most in place are abusive. This is over.

After the so-called treatment, all I saw were many disasters with my family. Nothing turned out well because of them. It can't be that they're all so useless! It makes me want to never see them again! I don't understand how a family can achieve that! I want everyone to go away, for all the misfits to go away. I want people who are in tune with me. It can't be that the psychiatrist isn't one of those people. To this day, I can't believe it.

I can't believe she feels that my therapy space is a useless, good-for-nothing place, that contributes nothing, that actually wastes my time. It can't be, although I also recognize that I'm under the fierce influence of my relatives, who didn't even know how to support me. How can an aunt tell me that my mother can't make me react intensely?! Has such a thing ever been heard?! That woman seems like she's never had a mother in her life, for God's sake! No wonder everyone thinks she's so mad!

I hope I don't find a hell like this with the girl I like. I don't have a way to call it, and I don't think I'm being rude. I don't want to find someone who has problems, really, who has difficulties with their family. I want someone who's outgrown that, so we can be together and free from the past. That would be good for me. I want a break from problematic people, for the love of God. I also feel annoyed because a man is going to take a book from a library I always use, and I won't have it available. That bothers me, and he knows it, and I'm uncertain; on top of that, I don't know if the boys will be able to find the copy in that library.

I feel very annoyed. I think the last thing I said between the lines got me all that. I think so, I couldn't stand it anymore. And I think that's good, reaching points where one can't tolerate lower thresholds, that are low thresholds, not excessive, and that allow for contextualized action, which I feel is what this text allows. I needed to say these things.

I don't know where else to vent, I feel like I've unloaded enough on a friend of mine and don't want to burden him any longer so...

My Grandma passed away not too long ago and there's some drama going on about the will. Apparently, some aunts and uncles have been manipulating Grandma to give them more things or be given things that other people have taken better care of. Like my cousin wanted to buy Grandma's house after she was moved out of it and she was willing to sell. But then some aunts got in her ear and made her make my cousin pay more for the house. One of the aunts said I would be named in the inheritance, my Mom thinks it's because Dad died and his portion would be split with his kids. She told me not to sign off on anything.

Then again I've heard her non-stop complaining about everything about Dad's side of the family which increased after he died. Pretty much have been discouraged from talking to anyone other than a select few she likes. Part of me understands considering some drama but also feel like she doesn't have the best judgement. She tends to talk down to me even though I'm an adult now and constantly calls me wet behind the ears even when I express interest in going outside my comfort zone and doing new experiences to be not so wet. But of course, she's the Mom and I'm the child so in her opinion she seems to know everything and she's always right, and I'm always wrong. When she asked for my credit card password and I said no she was all "Thank you for trusting me." But who in their right mind would share their credit card password with anyone? Who knows where that info will end up? Then there was the time in high school when I started having a tough time and asked if I could go to the doctor's to see if I had depression. But of course, she said no, I didn't have depression because I didn't act like she did when she had depression. Later I would get so nervous about school that I would get physically ill and I eventually called the doctor myself. And what do you know, I was prescribed anti-depressants. Recently, I was diagnosed with blood clots in my lungs but before that, I had a really bad cold that even took away my voice for a bit. But one night it got so bad I couldn't sleep and my chest was in serious pain. I had a bad feeling so I called 811, they suggested I get Mom to take me to a hospital. I tried to get her to but she refused, insisting it wasn't that serious. But it didn't get better and after half an hour I called a cab to take me to the hospital. There I was diagnosed with pneumonia and stayed there for just over a week, even spent two days in the ICU. When Mom finally came she was all apologetic but when I was checked out I learned she told relatives and friends the reason she didn't take me was because I wasn't clear enough. Even though both the 811 operator and cab driver saw it was urgent and that I was having trouble breathing. It was clear enough for them but not for her?

I believe she thinks I'm a goddamn idiot and so naive I need to have my hand held for every goddamn thing. If I could move out and cut out most people from the family I could but apparently I was hit with anti-employer spray because I can't get a job in my field to save my life. I feel useless but also feel like I could snap at any second. When I tell Mom how I feel, she turns it around and says it's my own fault for feeling that way. When I tell my siblings they either go on about how both sides are to blame or take Mom's side. The same Mom that screamed at them for other things, including one where she threatened to disinherit one of them from Dad's will for not doing what she wants. Granted it involved staying with a not-so-great romantic partner but her having a fucking meltdown only pushed that sibling further into the arms of the fucking creep so it took longer for my sibling to finally break it off with that jerk.

I do have a therapist that I talk to but he's not cheap and I leave still feeling furious. He does give good advice but I never feel myself in the right headspace to act on said advice.

It feels like I'm in a fucking soap opera only the people around me seem to think I'm oblivious to the whole shitshow. It feels like I'm one bad day away from exploding and I don't know how to defuse this timebomb.

Around seven years ago, my relationship with my ex, Jenna, sadly came to an end. We share two teenage children, and since I was more financially secure, Jenna proposed I take full custody following our split. I've been raising them full-time since then, with Jenna having the option of visitation. However, she seldom exercised this right. Shortly after we went our separate ways, Jenna moved on with a wealthy man from abroad, quickly becoming pregnant with his child. The man, however, was not interested in taking care of children who were not his own, leading Jenna to relocate three hours away, distancing herself further from our kids. For nearly two years, she vanished from their lives.

The wealth of Jenna’s partner was contingent on his family’s support, and after discovering her situation, they withdrew their financial backing. Complicating matters, their young child faced developmental challenges. Jenna was expecting another child when her boyfriend decided to return to his home country, leaving her alone, pregnant, jobless, and caring for their special needs son.

Last week, Jenna reached out in desperation, her circumstances dire. She and her son were living in a motel, and their financial resources were dwindling. She asked if they could stay at my lake house nearby, or alternatively, if I could provide some financial support. I declined both requests, leading to heated exchanges where she accused me of neglecting my extended "family" despite having the means to assist her. I maintained that, biologically speaking, her current predicaments do not obligate me to intervene.

In a scenario where my life was part of a reality show, the reaction from the audience could be intensely divided. Viewers might sympathize with the tough stance I’ve taken, arguing that my responsibility is primarily towards my own household and the children we share. Others might harshly critique my decision, seeing it as lacking compassion towards my ex who is clearly struggling and my indirect connection to her current children. The intensity of reality show fans could turn this domestic drama into a broader debate on responsibilities and moral obligations ex-partners owe to each other, especially when children are involved.

Now, reflecting on my story as part of an online community seeking advice or shared experiences, I’m curious to get your points of view...

Hey, guys. So, I've been grappling with a bit of a morally gray area lately, and I could really use some outside perspective. Is it bad to watch porn? I get that it's a touchy subject, and opinions on it vary greatly. Sometimes, I feel like everyone does it, but no one talks about it, almost like it's this secret secluded to the hidden corners of our lives. The alluring consumption of adult content is accessible as ever due to modern technology and the privacy it offers, yet the stigma surrounding it remains quite palpable. It leads one to wonder about its implications, both psychologically and ethically. I mean, sure, on the surface level, indulging in pornography feels like a harmless escapade, almost like ordering takeout instead of cooking. But is it nearly as innocent as it seems?

There's something undeniably magnetic about the immediate gratification it offers, and let's face it, the variety is vast. However, I can't help but feel that there's a darker underlying current. Does it adversely affect our perception of reality? Impacts cognition and behavior? Or maybe even our relationships with others? These questions keep swirling around in my head. The industry sure is a juggernaut, boasting millions of viewers but is it all coming at a hefty price? Does it heighten unrealistic expectations or foster an unhealthy cycle that one struggles to escape from? I know personally, it's hindered my capacity to connect meaningfully with partners at times. And the feeling of guilt lingers, a byproduct of wondering if I'm feeding into something more sinister. Are others feeling this duality of pleasure and guilt too, or is it just me? Ugh, it's complicated, isn't it? 🤔

In July 2023, my husband Eric and I welcomed our daughter into the world. Prior to her birth, around Christmas 2022, we had shared our pregnancy news, and both our families were overjoyed. Becoming a mother has been a lifelong dream of mine. Eric’s father, who co-owns a successful multi-million dollar business across multiple states, was particularly thrilled. He showed his support by giving us $4,000 to assist with the medical expenses and for our baby's needs.

Due to regulations in our state, one cannot open a bank account without a Social Security number, which our unborn daughter didn’t have at the time. Thus, we agreed to temporarily keep the funds in our joint bank account. I rarely monitor this account as it's primarily managed at my husband’s bank. All medical expenses associated with our daughter's birth were paid from my HSA account, entirely by me. Later, I opened a bank account for our daughter at my bank, where my dad ended up being the trustee because Eric missed the paperwork deadline.

Recently, while driving home from a function, I brought up the topic of the $4,000, mentioning that I’d like to transfer it to our daughter’s proper account now that she’s a year old. To my confusion, Eric insisted that I had used those funds for the medical bills, claiming they were transferred into my personal account. I clearly proved otherwise by showing him my account history. He then admitted if the money was in the joint account, it was spent on purchasing hunting land—an expenditure I had never approved.

Eric dismissed my concerns, labeling me as ridiculous for even questioning the usage of the money and asserted that our daughter isn’t entitled to it since it was meant for her medical and care expenses—a cost he barely contributes towards. I cover 75% of our daycare expenses and all our grocery and formula/milk bills. Our daughter is also on my healthcare plan, given the poor quality of the plan offered by his family's business. While we split our mortgage payments equally, I had fully paid the down payment. My financial burdens have been mounting, making it a struggle to transfer funds regularly into our daughter’s account; I've been managing to set aside $150 from each paycheck to save for her future needs like college or a car.

This confrontation led me to firmly tell him that this wasn’t a matter of asking—he needed to verify where those funds went.

Imagine if such a family dispute were broadcasted on a reality show. The audience reaction would likely range from sympathy for the wife's responsible financial handling to criticism of the husband’s neglect and disregard for agreed-upon financial plans. Reality shows thrive on conflict, and this situation presents enough tension and moral questioning that it could become a focal point of an episode, drawing viewers to take sides and engage emotionally.

I would love to know if I am being unreasonable for insisting Eric trace the missing money.

I never really thought about how much of our lives bleed through screens until I ended up talking with someone online who felt like they knew me better than people in real life. Isn’t it kind of wild? You log into some random chat, or even just leave a comment under a post, and suddenly there’s this exchange that feels more authentic than what happens at the dinner table. I guess that’s what people mean when they say “we’re not really strangers” online. There’s this paradox: we are technically strangers, but then you share these raw pieces of yourself and, boom, the distance collapses. I told this person about how I used to keep a journal in high school because I didn’t have anyone to vent to. They laughed and said, “You’re still journaling, you’re just doing it here now.” That hit me, like maybe this random human behind a username gets it. Do you think it’s possible to form real friendships this way, friendships that last, or are we just fooling ourselves with illusions of connection? Some people warn about “parasocial relationships,” but honestly, isn’t every relationship a little parasocial at the start until trust builds?

Anyway, I don’t want to romanticize it too much, because there are risks—catfish, ghosting, all that nonsense—but still, there’s a hopeful part of me that thinks maybe we underestimate the value of digital closeness. Once, I was ranting about my job frustrations, how the deadlines piled up and the boss barely acknowledged effort, and this online friend just said, “Take a breath, you’re doing more than enough.” Simple words, but I teared up. That tiny message carried more compassion than the HR department ever did. Maybe the internet, for all its flaws, creates pockets of kindness that we stumble into when we least expect it. And I like to think there’s meaning in that. Even if we never meet, even if I never know their face, isn’t there something powerful in recognizing someone’s humanity through their typed-out words? I hold onto that. And I wonder if you’ve ever felt it too—reading a stranger’s post at 3 a.m. and thinking, “Wow, I’m not alone in this.” That’s why I keep showing up here, because despite the chaos and the anonymity, there’s always that tiny flicker of connection reminding me the world isn’t so cold after all 🙂.

I really wish I wasn’t sick. That people didn’t look at me as if I was a lost cause. That people didn’t have to worry about upsetting me, or think that I do things because I feel like I have to. I wish people didn’t walk on eggshells around me or feel the need to ask me a bunch of questions about my feelings. I wish people could realize that sometimes I do nice things because I want to, not out of obligation. I wish I didn’t hate silence around everyone but one person. But alas, I’m stuck with a brain that halfway works and the emotional range of a football field.

I don’t even know where to start. For as long as I can remember, there’s been this feeling deep inside me, a constant whisper that I’m not good enough. Every day, I ask myself, why do I hate myself so much? And every day, I come up empty. It’s like I’m stuck in this loop, and I can’t figure out how to break free.

The crazy part is, from the outside, you’d probably think my life is fine. I have a decent job, supportive friends, and a family that loves me. But none of that seems to matter when the voice in my head tells me over and over that I’m a failure. It’s not like I choose to feel this way—it’s just there, like a shadow I can’t escape.

For me, the self-hate started small. I’d beat myself up over little things, like saying something awkward in a conversation or getting a bad grade in school. Back then, I thought everyone did that. But over time, those thoughts got louder, and now it feels like they’re all I can hear. No matter what I do, I’m constantly second-guessing myself. Did I handle that situation right? Did I offend someone without realizing it? Am I even worth anyone’s time?

Social situations are the worst. I’ll be in a group, and instead of enjoying the moment, I’m obsessing over whether people actually like me. I’ll replay conversations in my head for days, analyzing every word I said and convincing myself I sounded stupid or needy. The worst part is, even when people tell me I’m fine or that I’m overthinking, I don’t believe them. It’s like my brain won’t let me accept anything positive about myself.

And don’t even get me started on my appearance. Some days, I can barely look in the mirror. I pick apart every flaw, every imperfection, and wonder how anyone could find me attractive. I know it’s unhealthy, but it feels impossible to stop. Social media doesn’t help either. I’ll scroll through Instagram and see all these perfect people with perfect lives, and it just makes me feel worse. I know it’s fake, but it still gets to me.

At work, it’s the same story. I could spend hours on a project, pouring everything I have into it, but as soon as I hand it in, all I can think about are the mistakes I might have made. Even when I get good feedback, it doesn’t stick. Instead, I focus on the one piece of criticism or the one thing I think I could’ve done better. It’s exhausting.

The thing is, I don’t even know where this self-hate comes from. I didn’t have a traumatic childhood. My parents were strict, sure, but they loved me and did their best. So why do I hate myself? Why can’t I shake this feeling that I’m not enough, no matter what I do?

I’ve tried all the usual advice—positive affirmations, journaling, even therapy. And while those things help in the moment, the feeling always comes back. It’s like there’s this wall between me and actually believing anything good about myself. I’ll write down things I’m proud of or things I’ve achieved, but they always feel small compared to the weight of everything I think I’ve failed at.

One of the hardest parts is how isolating it feels. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way—there are forums and articles and videos about it—but in my daily life, it’s hard to imagine anyone else struggling like this. Everyone around me seems so confident, so sure of themselves. Meanwhile, I’m over here just trying to make it through the day without falling apart.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever feel differently. Will there ever be a day where I wake up and don’t feel this weight on my chest? Or is this just who I am—a person who’s destined to hate themselves no matter what? I want to believe that things can change, but honestly, I don’t know how to get there.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I wish I had answers for you. I wish I could tell you how to stop feeling this way, but I’m still trying to figure it out myself. All I can say is, you’re not alone. And maybe that’s the first step—just admitting that we’re struggling and trying to find a way forward, even if it’s messy and imperfect.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but for now, I’m just trying to hold on to the hope that it doesn’t have to be like this forever. Maybe there’s a way to break free from this cycle. Maybe one day, I’ll look in the mirror and see someone worth loving. Until then, I’ll keep asking the question, why do I hate myself?—and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find an answer that helps me heal.

I’m a 52-year-old woman, and I’m dealing with a tricky family issue involving my brother-in-law, Mark, who's 59, and his wife, Linda, who's 35. Mark fully finances Linda’s burgeoning art career, supporting her while she devotes herself to becoming an artist. Linda mainly paints portraits and animals and has established a website to showcase and sell her artwork.

To be honest, I don't find Linda's artwork very appealing. While it’s certainly better than anything I could create, it doesn’t strike me as particularly professional. My husband shares this opinion, hence we've never bought any of her pieces, even though she often hints that we should.

Most of her artworks are tagged at $3,000 to $5,000 — a range that seems steep to me considering the artistic quality. It looks like she doesn’t sell much because she’s started gifting portraits of family members or their pets, catching them off guard and then they feel compelled to purchase these pieces. Recently, it was our turn to face this tactic.

After my son got engaged, we celebrated with a dinner, which was well-documented on social media. Unknown to us, Linda used one of those images to paint a large portrait. She unveiled this ‘surprise’ at a recent gathering, and I must admit, the painting did not appeal to me at all. It was quite overdone and not to my taste.

At the event, I appreciated her effort politely but remained non-committal about liking the artwork. During the night, she consistently hinted we could buy the painting as a wedding gift, even offering a “family discount”. Despite my evasive responses, her disappointment was palpable.

Later, Mark called my husband to express Linda's hurt feelings over us not purchasing the painting, emphasizing how meaningful it would be for them if we did. She dropped her price to $1,900 from the original $2,500.

This isn’t just about money. It’s about being pressured into buying something we neither need nor want. Even my son and his fiancée aren’t interested in keeping it. My husband suggests we purchase it to avoid family drama, even though he agrees with my sentiment. He also remarked that my viewpoint may come off as elitist, which I hadn’t intended. If I refuse to buy the painting, am I being unreasonable?

Imagine this situation playing out on a reality TV show. The tension and awkwardness would likely be magnified, with cameras capturing every reluctantly polite smile and each strained conversation. Viewers would probably be divided; some might sympathize with my refusal to spend a large sum on something I don’t appreciate, while others might see it as a small price to pay for family harmony.

Hey guys, I'm a 14 y/o girl, and uh, as the title says, I have acne. And to those who have it or have had it, please read this.

I'm no confident kid, I'm the opposite. Apparently, acne never goes away! I've heard people say "They tell you it goes away at 18, but it's still there!" I'll get them forever unless I take Accutane. I may apply Niacinamide, but even then, it's gonna come back, it has come back. Accutane is long-term. But yeah, I can picture Caesar laughing at him even more if Joseph had braces. And my Niacinamide isn't working, and I really gotta stop snacking I may drink 1 cup of warm milk mixed with chocolate powder (I mix in 2 spoons), 2 biscuits, 2 Prosciutto and 2 dates, but it's gluttony and bad for skin! Why do I even put 2!? I've got a blood test positive for dust and cat danger allergy, but what if dietary choices where I snack every 6pm affect me negatively? Your skin is the largest organ after all. ACNE. Apparently sugar causes acne, and look at the sugar in my snack. Who even eats what I eat as a snack? Big-back material, I tell you. Not even niacinamide is working for me. I thought it was a big acne remover. The worst part is, acne never goes away unless you take Accutane or oral meds. It's what YouTubers say.

The worst part is, I have eczema and acne. How do I fix myself with 2 bad diseases? One shows I'm dry as a desert, the other proves I'm oily enough to fry an egg with it replaces olive oil. Acne is bad. Acne destroys confidence. Acne ruins lives. Acne makes me ugly. Acne makes everyone ugly. Everyone I know has clear skin, in my class, most people are clear-skinned. Look at them! My dad has scars because he accidentally shaved them off as a teen, and yet somehow he's fine. Eczema means my immune system is bad, and that if it dares over-panic once for something, it could be dangerous. I already have new dust and cat dander allergy for 2 years now, so I'm gonna get asthma like my grandma. I mean, I see Whispers of people saying how much they hate it. Plus, YouTube videos say that acne never goes away. One dude tried all topical stuff, and it didn't work. He still has them at 19! I'll never be safe! That Accutane's starting to look real good, and Dupixent, too. My acne may be pustular, and whiteheads but it could get worse. And my eczema may be itchy only, and doesn't make me have difficulty sleeping or focusing, but it could get worse. Then what's the point? My current serums aren't working. My eczema only cleared due to Niacinamide! That's the wrong thing I wanted to fix!

I don't fit anywhere. It won't reduce. That's impossible. There's no way it'll reduce. It'll come back, maybe worse. Nobody's perfect. The body problems will come back. And because nothing's perfect, why even try? It'll always get worse. I must utilize the time, that is less, to be pretty and loved. Plus, imagine me next to a friend who most likely won't have it. Like, who has the atopic dermatitis eczema? Amanda Seyfried only has perioral eczema, it only comes on her mouth. Mine is all over! Biologics barely have side-effects. Even babies get it. It's just a stupid needle in my stomach to cure my fundamental body flaw! I've had it since 3, but still. It counts. The only cure is biologics, which for some reason, my parents won't let me get a plan on. I got a blood test and my main allergies were dust and cat dander, which for cats I managed to not touch and dust I avoided most spots. Doesn't Accutane and Biologics fix everything? Isn't eczema a bad thing, anyways? It's a chronic disease. It means I have health issues. I'm not healthy. Again, acne is bad. It means there's an underlying health issue. If a woman has cystic ones, especially paired with facial hair and painful periods or no periods without birth control, it's PCOS. I may not have PCOS, I show no such symptoms, but still, at this age, it counts as an issue. A health issue. Acne means lack of health.

Can Accutane be the cure? It seems to be the most popular option. Can acne persist into adulthood anyways? It's what every video says on YouTube. All the Pinterest Whispers girls are right, they also hate their noses, they also want clean skin, and they also think when they become 18 they'll get a nose job. I got my mom's straight long nose bridge, and not the cool inward button nose. Even girls on there say the "clean diet" of shrimp, rice and asparagus. What if my foods cooked by my mom and maid aren't clean? What if my sugary snack for every evening ritual is causing me acne!? I should cut it out! You don't eat unhealthy foods! And acne is bad because it's ugly, it ruins self-esteem and according to Google, "it can be highly harmful to emotional well-being and, if severe or untreated, cause permanent physical scars. It frequently causes low self-esteem, anxiety, depression, and significant emotional distress. Physically, it can lead to pain, itching, or, in severe cases, permanent atrophic (indented) or hypertrophic (raised) scarring." I'm not cute, I'm ugly. Those who say it's cute are either delusional, never had it before or have some sort of ugly fetish. F--k off!

Seriously? What did I do wrong? Why aren't I getting Accutane or Dupixent, yet? They're the miracle cure!

I never thought I’d be the guy who had it all together. And to be honest, I still don’t feel like I do. But when I look at my life—my wife, my kids, our home—I know I’m lucky. I have a good job, a healthy family, and a reason to wake up every morning. I remember being younger, picturing what adulthood would look like, and this was it. The stability, the love, the feeling of coming home to people who actually want to see you at the end of the day. Life is good. But at the same time, there’s this nagging thought in the back of my mind that I can’t shake: it can be better.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy. It’s not like I want to run away from my responsibilities or trade any of this for something else. But sometimes, I feel like I’m just going through the motions. Work, bills, fixing things around the house, making sure the kids have everything they need. Then it’s bedtime, a few hours of quiet, and we do it all over again. And I love my family more than anything, but I miss something I can’t even put into words. Maybe it’s freedom, maybe it’s excitement, maybe it’s just the feeling of being more than just a dad and a husband.

I see other guys chasing their dreams—starting businesses, traveling, picking up new hobbies—and I wonder if I’m supposed to be doing that too. Should I be pushing myself harder? Should I be taking risks instead of playing it safe all the time? There was a time when I had big ideas, when I wanted more than just a comfortable life. But now? I’m not even sure what more looks like anymore. And the weird thing is, I feel guilty for even thinking about it. Like, shouldn’t I just be grateful for what I have? Shouldn’t this be enough?

Maybe part of the problem is that I don’t really take time for myself. I’m always in “dad mode” or “work mode,” and when I do get a second to breathe, I don’t even know what to do with it. I used to love playing guitar, used to spend hours drawing, used to actually read books instead of just scrolling through my phone. But somewhere along the way, those things stopped feeling important. Now, if I do anything that isn’t productive, I feel like I’m wasting time. And there’s always something else that needs to get done.

But I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I let myself disappear. I don’t want to be that guy who only existed for his family and forgot how to be his own person too. My kids are gonna grow up. They’re gonna have their own lives, their own problems, their own dreams. And when that happens, who will I be? Just some guy who works and pays bills? That thought scares me more than I like to admit.

So yeah, life is good, but it can be better. Not because I want more money or a bigger house or some crazy adventure. But because I want to feel alive in my own life, not just present in everyone else’s. I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet, but I know it starts with me. And maybe that’s enough for now.

Written as letter to Ex.

Ex.,

I want to know why you treated me the way you do when you said you love me?

Why did you feel the need to play Hot & Cold?

All I asked for was for you to talk to me. Yet 3 days of no contact on the bases of an "I've been busy with work".

When you wouldn't text me at least once a day, I felt like I wasn't loved. I shared with you that my love language is words of affirmation. Yet you couldn't fulfill that role.

I asked you to break up with me. I broke up with you many times. Yet you always managed to bring me back in. It's my fault in the end. I came back of my own free will. I regret those choices.

I regret letting your pouting sway my decisions. Whenever I wouldn't give you adult touches, you'd pout in a corner... And like the weak person I was, I came back to "help" with that.

We're done, yet I still claim to have loved you. Did I love you? I honestly don't know. I definitely felt forced into loving you.

The live bombing wasn't great either whenever we went through a difficult time.

I moved outta state, while you were stuck in the state I left. Unable to come with me due to your restraints. I understand that. I texted you shorter texts because longer texts didn't seem to be ready. Then I only texted once per day, hoping you'd at least read and respond to me.

At some point you mentioned leaving this world, I sobbed. And I stayed.

Being in another state made me realize that this wasn't love. You did not love me.

In the beginning of our relationship we shared what we think love is. You said that love is putting another's needs before your own. Taking care of them. That was the only description you gave me.

My description of love was so long, but you didn't think that was real love. I wanted someone who would talk to me, cuddle with me without any further adult touches. I wanted someone would would be able to hold out doing all the way until my 4 month comfort limit. You took my V-card and I was happy in the moment, but after... I honestly felt sad... Like it was a goodbye thing.

I'm 23 forking year old, and always imagined my 1st time being with someone who truly cared about my boundaries and what I believe in.

Your compromises were that you'd choose were we lived. That's fine. And you compromised about us getting a cat. That's fine. But you'd use that against me whenever I asked for something that you didn't wanna do. The only thing that I specifically asked for is someone who shares their feelings, thoughts and opinions, as well as listening to mine. I also asked that intimacy be limited. And I should've known that it wouldn't work out when you said on our first date that your love language was physical touch. And I said to you that my least favorite love language was acts of service, yet that was your second favorite. I guess I was desperate to be loved. And I'll not make that mistake again. I've sort of resigned myself to the fact that I'll never date or be loved the way that I wish to be. Reality isn't a movie. And movies aren't reality. Yet, I've seen with my own two eyes that it can be through my close friend. Her life has had bumps in the road, but I see how much her love loves her... The way he looks at her and holds her. The way that he supports her in all her endeavors. And her book is also an inspiration. She's the one who helped me out of my past relationship cause she went through the same thing before.

People may say that I'm heartless for not giving my ex a chance. Well, the only chance he ever wanted to show me that he loved me was in-person. And I'd spend most of my time where I am now. So, I could not continue the relationship... Ended with cold turkey. Blocked and deleted. Again, some might say that's harsh and some might say, you were with him for only a few months... Give it time. But I've already lost so many years, and built up so many regrets.

I'm tired. I know love it out there. But the only love I'll ever truly see is through my bestie, books, and movies. And I'm honestly very happy for those who find their true loves, or loves that make you happy in the moment. I also may be jealous, but that is honestly a healthy emotion... In my opinion. Just as long as it doesn't control your life. Which I'm working on.

Goodnight everyone!!!

From, Me.

I have been struggling with negative thoughts for a couple of years now due to school trauma and bullying. In 12th grade, I had to stop attending school because I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Since then, it has been difficult for me to keep up with people. My mom doesn’t know how to help me. I was forced to transfer schools and pay for the whole semester, even though I only sometimes attended school for one or two days. My mom thinks I'm not trying, but I badly want to graduate, and it hurts when they call me lazy and say I don’t have the will to get better.

I used to be an honor student, but because of the harmful effects of what others did to me, I no longer recognize myself. I have engaged in self-harm in various ways and had to live alone. My mom thought that by sending me to a city alone, I would feel better, but it only made things worse.

I met my boyfriend, who helped me cope and inspired me to try again. I enrolled in pharmacy for two months and fell in love with it. My classmates were very kind to me, but I realized my struggle was mostly internal. I couldn’t control the thoughts of others or stop wondering if they hated my existence. I would suddenly leave the laboratory and cry at home, feeling weak. Now, I’m forced to study accounting online, which I also struggle with because I was a STEM student and find business courses difficult.

Nevertheless, I want to study pharmacy again if only I were given another chance. That field makes me feel truly fulfilled, and I believe I can thrive in it if given the opportunity.

Regarding therapy, I recently received my psychological evaluation results, and they disappointed me a little. The results were very clear, and I paid a lot for them. Now, I was told I can book a session only once or twice a month. From this schedule, I’m unsure if I can truly get better. Is this how it works?

As of now, I feel like I’m just waiting for an opportunity. I feel not good enough, and I'm dying everyday as I’m turning 20 soon.