Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

TW, RELIGIOUS PSYCHOSIS,F*RCE FEEDING, AB*SE, MENTAL ILLNESS

[Present time] right now it feels horrid in my house, been eating like sh*t, feeling like sh*t, and my parents keep acting like everything is okay. I assume my mother hasn't told him that she wants a divorce(look at my other story for context) But honestly I'm scared sh*tless if he does, I'm scared. I'm scared that he'll go crazy again and hurt me or my mother.

[Past time, when was about 8-10 around then] so this was when I was coming home from school after taking the bus, my father recently stopped picking me up at my bustop but honestly I was glad I'm really ashamed of him. So I walk into my house and up my stairs (apartment) and I pause as I heard slaps and crying of my mom...? So I immediately speed up and run to the top of the stairs. There it was, my own "dad" hitting my mom, with her on the floor on her knees crying. I'm 8-10 so I stop and stand still, because what else am I supposed to do??? Yell? Stop him? She looked at me mid slap. "Oh my God! (Name), go upstairs!" is what she said, didn't want to see her get hurt so I listened. I dropped my bag on the floor and quickly ran away to my room and shut my door and sat on my bed. Sitting there. Doing nothing. Hearing her muffled cries and begs. [Time skip slightly, 20 minutes later] she comes up and opens my door as I was crying from guilt and worry, I immediately try to stop and stare at her in fear and worry because I thought she would've d*ed. But she just walks in and hugs me tightly, muttering it's okay. So I start crying more because this is my mom crying as well? And that's all I really remember from that.

[I think a couple days after the last story thingy] so it was morning in my bedroom and my "dad" brought me some pancakes(microwave type). So he sits me down and gives me my food and sits down with me on my bed, start eating them and I said that I didn't want them all. So this mother f*cker moves closer and takes the pancakes in his hand, shoves it in my mouth, forces me to chew it for a bit. So I'm crying. I'm 8-10 then. So he then says "None of this matters, it doesn't f*cking matter!! Because we all are dying and going to heaven!!" so now he puts his hand in my mouth and takes out the chewed up food and throws it at my bathroom door. He has a crazy, big pupiled, crazy smile on his face. So I scream for my mom. She comes running and screams as well, pulls him off me and takes me away from him to her room. And hugs me as I sobbed. And I remember her asking me what happened but I don't remember anything else.

[Around the time of the last timeskip] My dad was in this weird religious psychosis?? He wasn't even Christian for sake!! But whatever... So it was mid evening and I hear yelling as I was doing homework at the dining table. It was yelling about car keys and where were they? Mind you these keys belonged to my grandfather/ my REAL FATHER FIGURE. So obviously I needed to know because it was someone I cared about. So my father says "I threw them in the trail in the woods when I walked the dogs, god told me to." what the actual f*ck???? So my mom goes "what?" in disbelief because really we needed that car. So my mom soon starts yelling at them and they start fighting. Next thing I know I'm being pulling upstairs to pack bags to leave withmy grandpa outside yelling and arguing with my father about keys and how crazy my "dad" was. So obviously I'm scared. I'm 8 or 10??? So I cry and do as I'm told and soon we are running down the stairs and I see my "dad" with crazy eyes yelling "You can't take (my name) away!! That's my daughter!" I'm scared. SCARED. I'm sobbing and trying to get to the car my grandma was in with my bags. So now I look up at the yelling coming from my house window, it's my dad screaming, "I'll find you (name)! I'll f*cking get you back!!" uhm!!! I'm sobbing because I'm scared of my "dad" right now. So my grandma starts driving to leave, the path circles around the house. So I see my "dad" leaning out the window arguing with my grandpa where the keys were in the woods, my grandpa was mad so he started going to find them in the woods. And then I felt my grandma's hand holding mine so I broke, her pink nail polish and her clamy hands felt so good right then. And thats all i remember and the car keys got remade as they couldn't find them. Then I also stayed at my grandparents place for a bit as they put my "dad" in the hospfital for a while.

[Around when I was 9?] so my mom comes down stairs and accidently drops a mug and yells about leaving stuff everywhere and how useless my father was. So my mom starts grabbing mugs from the cup cabinet and throws them on the floor so my "dad" rushes to stop her and yells at her to stop and she does and starts crying. That's all I remember and I remember ending up at my grandparents place for a bit when she went to the hospital for a bit.

Thx for getting this far lol, I'd love any comments or opinions!!!

I'm scared of dying in my sleep, knowing that it can happen at any time. And you wouldn't even know because you won't wake up if it happens,

you lay in bed and close your eyes, ready to go to bed and wake up the next morning but the fear sometimes lingers with me. Which sounds stupid when you say it out loud because it would be the most peaceful way to go right?

but at the same time, i feel like to me it's the hardest way. Not the aftermath of it, but just knowing it could happen and what others would think. You don't get to say goodbye, you can't give a last message. What would my online friends think? that i ghosted them but in reality i died?

It's the being afraid of dying before living life to my fullest. What if i die before getting to live as a guy? before i come out. If the last thing they know me as is a girl when all i want to be seen as is a guy. Is that just part of the fear? the fear of dying, but also the fear of leaving things unfinished. Like there’s still so much you haven’t gotten to do yet? I know i will die someday but it's always a feeling that stays because what if i don’t get the chance to be me before that happens?

It’s just one of those thoughts that makes everything feel a little more real than i want it to feel. Sometimes i'm stuck staring at the ceiling trying to distract myself with the thought that i will wake up. But my brain just circles back like it’s looking for an answer that doesn’t exist. Because you won't know if you don't wake up.

Am i just afraid of dying young? and is there a way to ease this feeling a little?

so i had a best friend, shes wonderful. but her BF broke up with her. after about a month she confessed to me and like all my previous relationships, to not hurt her (and because I love her, don't take it outta context!!!!), I say yes. half of the time when my gf talks to me its like either funny memes, relationship posts, or talking about mental health or just ranting about someone we hate. i want her in my life, shes amazing. i love her so much. but, I don't really understand love as a whole. but talking to me about mental health made me think of things that happened to me in the past, and I realized I don't know what I'm doing AT ALL. most of my personality is just other people and characters from fandoms and stuff, its almost pathetic. i never had a good romantic relationship growing up, my parents got divorced this October anyway, its hard, I love my GF, but I just cant figure out which feeling love IS. can someone help me? its just so confusing. i don't know my own personality or what love is as a whole, even though I have a girlfriend. i just need some advice

I hope this doesnt sound too messy because my writing is honestly terrible, but I wanted to share this little story in case anyone reading ever wondered about the signs your family doesnt care about you, or at least seems like they dont. Im 17 and a girl, and Ive kinda grown up watching my parents circle around my brothers like planets around a sun, while Im some tiny moon they forget is even there. They go to every football match my brothers play, even when its freezing outside or when the team always loses. They cheer so loud I swear the field shakes. When one of them gets an A on a test, my mom tells the whole family group chat and my dad claps him on the shoulder like he just won a Nobel Prize. When I get good grades, they say OK and go back to whatever they were doing. I dont think theyre trying to be mean, they just forget me, like that quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower where it says we accept the love we think we deserve, and sometimes I wonder if I just accepted this whole situation without thinking too much. And maybe thats why Im telling this politely, because staying polite feels like the only way I stay steady;

Anyway I keep trying to stay objective about it, because I know teenagers can exagerate things and I dont want to sound like Im throwing a fit. Its just facts. They barely talk to me unless they need me to do a chore. They never ask me about my intersts, like school clubs or the small art projects I do. I once tried to show my mom a drawing I worked on for two weeks, and she said Mhmm while scrolling on her phone. If one of my brothers had drawn literally anything, even a stick figure, it would of gotten a photo framed in the living room. Still I keep telling myself maybe they dont realize how it feels from my side. Maybe they grew up in familys where girls stayed quiet or maybe they think Im independant and dont need them. I stay polite because whats the point of fighting. Its better to observe everything like Im some researcher taking notes on a family I dont totally belong in. Detatchment feels safer. But even with that detatchment Im hopeful. I think one day someone will care to ask about my life the same way they ask my brothers.

The weird thing is how normal it all feels now, even tho I know deep down it shouldnt. Sometimes I sit in my room and wander, Would anyone notice if I just stopped trying. Not in a dramatic way just a logical question. And I bet you if someone reading this has felt like the shadow sibling youv wondered it too. I remember one time my English teacher complimented an essay I wrote telling me I had clear potential and my first instinct was to laugh because no one at home has ever used the word potential about me. I quoted her in my journal because it felt so strnage yet so nice. Im not saying my parents are villians or anything like that. Theyre polite people themselfs and I know they love us in their own way. They just show it unevenly like someone pouring water into two cups and missing the third. And thats okay. Cups can be refilled someday by someone else or maybe by ourselves. Im trying to beleive that honestly.

So I guess all this is just me asking gently have you ever felt invisible in your own house. And if yes how did you figure out that it wasnt your fault. I try to stay hopeful because Ive read so many storys yes I know sounds cheesy where people grow up and finally meet friends or mentors or partners who see them and cheer for them the way their family never did. Maybe that will be me too. I want to keep a positive tone because life isnt over at 17 not even close and maybe this whole weird upbringing will make me appreciate real attention when it finally comes. Im staying polite staying patient and staying open to the idea that things can still change. And if they dont at least Ill know I tried to understand it instead of letting it crush me. Maybe thats the real sign that I care about myself even if my family sometimes forgets to show that they do.

My sister recently purchased a house that desperately needed renovating. Knowing that I had some skills in this area, she asked for my help, and I agreed under the condition that I’d be provided with daily meals and the necessary supplies. So here I am, trying to balance my health with the demands of heavy physical labor.

To give you a bit of background, I've struggled with anemia for much of my life. This condition often left me fainting, particularly during my childhood. To manage it, I stick to a diet rich in protein, usually incorporating meat into almost every meal to maintain my energy levels, especially given the labor-intensive nature of the work I’m doing.

However, an issue arose with the meals prepared by my sister. They were too light and lacked sufficient protein, which left me feeling hungry and lightheaded by the afternoons. I tried bringing my own food one day, and everything was fine, so I thought it'd be a simple fix. I suggested to my sister that she serve meals that were more aligned with my dietary needs. Unfortunately, she hasn’t made the necessary adjustments.

Things came to a head yesterday when I actually fainted due to low energy. After recovering, I explained to her once again that I desperately need meals that include meat, or I can't continue with the remodeling. This led to her thinking I'm being unreasonable, insisting that I’m asking too much of her. However, I see it differently; I’m already doing her a significant favor by remodeling her home. Despite this, I have decided I won’t be bringing my own meals either; it just doesn’t seem fair to me.

Imagine if this was all playing out on a reality TV show. Viewers would likely be split with some sympathizing with my dietary needs and efforts, and others possibly siding with my sister, thinking that my demands are too much and that I should be more adaptable. The drama of the situation would certainly be heightened, complete with confessionals and dramatic music!

If this situation were part of a show, how do viewers usually react?

I'm not trying to complain but I'm having to use this app on my tablet bc it's saying it's not compatible with Samsung galaxy a13 anyone send me some advice

This is probably going to be my final post anyway let me get into it.( for my context check my last post) Currently I’m just in the idgaf stage Ive truly lost pretty much lost a lot of hope almost all of it. I’m also just at the point where I don’t care to get better, I don’t want to get better, and I don’t want better for myself. I’m considering distancing myself from everyone(including friends,family, even teachers) and potentially cut off people as a whole. I’m also going to refrain from making new friends and telling people how I feel period it’s no one’s business. Honestly my plan going forward Is to just turn myself in and do my time and then after I finish my time I’ll kill myself. And my goal for being an astronomer is most likely dead at this point I’ll probably be dead before then and not do I really want to put in the effort to achieve it and improve my math skills so basically I’ve given up on it and to be honest it’s upsetting to think about. I’m also pretty apathetic and resistant to the idea of therapy now I’ve accepted that I don’t want to get better and it would be a waste of money for my family members to even pay for it because I wouldn’t cooperate and I would be hard to work with and it would also be a waste of time for the therapist. Anyway that’s all I wanted to say and I appreciate those who gave me support on my last post.

When I grew up, I was so poor that I didn't consistently eat three meals a day until I was eight years old. I would go to sleep clawing at myself to ease the pain of hunger.

My mom didn't let any of my mistakes escape my memory since she told everyone she knew anytime I would mess up.

After my dad left because he was sick and tired of living with my mom, my siblings started to beat me since I was the youngest and they had a bunch of pent up anger because they didn't know why all of these bad things were happening to them. I was so scared that I'd run to the kitchen and get knives to defend myself, although I was too scared to use them.

I loved my siblings though, they were my only friends, so when I turned thirteen and learned that my mom had allowed two people I knew and trusted a lot to make sexual advances on my sister, I nearly killed myself.

I left my mom's house to live with my dad. Shortly after that, I learned that my mom's new boyfriend had beat my pets and pointed a gun at my brother.

I'm now 19 and still refuse to forgive my mom or either of the men. I hate myself, I hate that I wasn't given a fair chance, I hate that nobody cared when I told them that my mom and siblings hurt me at home since they thought I was just being a wimp, I hate everything. I believe that nobody is truly good and have severe PTSD when women get too close to me, I can't talk right, I freeze up, I begin to imagine the worst possible outcomes, I can't think of a single time in my life where I've felt completely safe when I was with anybody.

I recently got promoted at work, which allowed me to move into a new apartment in a desirable neighborhood. It's the first time I've lived on my own, and I'm genuinely proud of the independence and space I've earned.

However, things took an unexpected turn. My older brother, Thomas, who's always had his share of financial instability, found himself in a bind. He and his wife, notoriously poor with money management, were evicted from their apartment due to soaring rent prices. Now, homeless with their two children, ages 5 and 7, Thomas reached out for help.

Thomas asked if he and his family could crash with me while they sorted out their situation. But here’s the hitch: my apartment is a modest one-bedroom, barely spacious enough for me alone, and certainly not designed for a family of four with young kids. I’ve never dealt with children and the thought of childproofing and constantly monitoring the kids is daunting.

I tried to offer financial assistance instead, suggesting that I could pay for a temporary rental or a hotel stay. Despite this, Thomas and his wife are firm on the idea that staying with family is not only economical but also less stressful for their children.

The pressure from my family didn’t take long to mount. My parents and relatives began labeling me as selfish, accusing me of prioritizing my “fancy apartment” over the well-being of family. They remind me excessively that “Family helps family,” and plead me to consider my young nieces, which does tug at my heartstrings.

Despite the guilt-tripping, I've decided to hold my ground. However, it's left me isolated, with family members expressing their disappointment, making me second-guess if I'm being unreasonable or cold-hearted.

If this scenario were featured on a reality show, imagine the varied reactions from audience members! Viewers might be divided, some sympathizing with my need for personal space and understanding the limitations of my living conditions, while others might vilify me for not opening my home, dramatizing the situation with intense family arguments and emotional appeals from my brother, casting me in a less than flattering light. Reality TV thrives on such conflicts, and my situation could easily be framed to boost drama and engage viewers.

Am I really the bad guy here for wanting to maintain my personal sanctuary and my lifestyle?

I now believe that dream jobs are a waste of time. This is why I have thrown out being an astronomer, and graphic designer. I have dream jobs for a reason. Because I won’t actually pursue them. I won’t pursue them whether it’s because I dislike math and don’t want to work in a math heavy field or if I enjoy the product more than the process, and because it is a low percent chance I’ll actually achieve it in a period of the world where hard work doesn’t guarantee anything and most likely won’t get you what you want . if I were to consider people facing doubts and similar obstacles I can only understand how a few of them get their dream job. It’s better to not waste my time and existence on dream jobs and get a job I have a significantly higher chance of getting.

At 46 years old, I find myself in a pivotal phase of life, contemplating moving in with my partner of five years, a 57-year-old man. As my children from a previous marriage have recently moved out, the practicality of our living situations has become a topic of discussion.

My partner owns his home outright, while I'm still paying off a mortgage on mine. His house is larger, making it a sensible choice for us to move in together. The plan would involve me renting out my property, which should bring in about $600 each week.

However, when we discussed how to handle our finances together, he proposed that in addition to splitting all household bills and the cost of groceries, I should also give him 50% of the income I earn from renting out my home. While I understand and agree with sharing the bills, the idea of handing over half of my rental earnings didn't sit right with me, especially since he doesn't have a mortgage to worry about.

He explained his reasoning by stating that he wanted to prevent any feelings of being taken advantage of should our relationship end. His idea of fairness was a straight 50/50 split in all aspects, including income that I would generate independently from him.

To me, this arrangement feels disproportionally in his favor, almost like an 80/20 split. If I were to agree to his terms, I could be paying roughly $150 a week for rent in addition to covering half of all other living costs. Comparatively, I am only comfortable with contributing a maximum of $150 total per week for rent, bills, and groceries. Given that my income is around $75,000 annually, and his is about $85,000—half of which he earns from another rental property—it seems he is positioned to benefit far more from this arrangement than I am.

Imagining this scenario unfolding on a reality show, the audience might be split. Some viewers could sympathize with my hesitation and sense of unfairness, echoing that love shouldn't be so transactional. Others might side with my partner, advocating for his approach to protect his assets and maintain an equal footing in the relationship. No doubt, it would spark a heated debate among fans and critics alike, especially given the complexities of blending lives and assets in later life.

Am I unreasonable for resisting the idea of giving up half my rental income to him?

I've always been somewhat of a recluse, deliberately steering clear of social media and generally shying away from the spotlight. My wife knows this well, yet she refrains from uploading my photos online, though I’ve never explicitly forbidden her from doing so. I’ve always preferred simple, quiet celebrations for events like Father’s Day or my own birthday, keeping any unnecessary attention at bay.

Recently, I was diagnosed with a very treatable form of skin cancer. Detected early, the prognosis was excellent, with a negligible risk of serious consequences. As an engineer, I approached the situation with a level of detachment, comforted by the statistics and my doctor’s positive outlook. Naturally, I confided in my wife, who became overwhelmingly concerned despite my reassurances. We decided that it would be best to keep our children in the dark about my condition, sparing them any worry over something I believed to be a minor issue. My wife reluctantly agreed.

However, just days later my father contacted me, alarmingly inquired about my “battle with cancer.” It appeared that my wife had disclosed my diagnosis on Facebook that morning. When confronted, she defended her actions by claiming I hadn’t specifically asked her not to share it online, only to avoid telling our children. Frustrated but resolute, I convinced her to remove the post.

My treatment progressed smoothly, and soon, I was officially in remission. My doctor cheerfully informed me that while they avoid saying "cured," effectively, I was. Overjoyed, my wife and I hoped to move past this chapter. Or so I thought.

This past weekend, I arrived home to find a street bustling with cars and many more parked in my driveway. Confused, since no significant dates had come to mind, I entered the house only to be greeted by a surprise party celebrating my remission. I was completely taken aback – my wife knew my stance on surprise gatherings and yet had organized one for something I considered deeply personal. Claiming a sudden need to return to the office, I quickly excused myself, grabbed a few inconsequential files from my study, thanked the guests, and left. Later, my wife confronted me, leading to an argument where I expressed my disapproval of her turning a personal milestone into a public celebration.

Following the incident, there's been a noticeable tension between us. My brother even called me out, labeling me an 'asshole' for my reaction, suggesting I was too harsh.

Imagine if all this drama unfolded on a reality show. Viewers would probably be divided, some sympathizing with my need for privacy, while others might argue that my wife’s actions, though misguided, were rooted in love and deserved a more gracious response from me. It could have become a classic episode filled with conflict, emotional interviews, and maybe even a reconciliation scene, grabbing the audience’s attention with genuine, raw human experience.

Am I wrong for feeling upset about my wife's public celebration of my private health matter?

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

So it all started a year ago when I met my ex-boyfriend online. We started going out after only a few days and became a long-distance couple. At first everything was going well, but at around 6 months into the relationship, he started talking to me about sex, which I wasn’t against, but it was kind of at the limit of what felt reasonable. Then things sped up until we were sending pictures and calling each other on video.

Later on I met some friends, but you should know my ex was very obsessed with me and manipulative and controlling. So I wasn’t allowed to wear what I wanted or have guy friends, and the friends I had met were a big group of guys. In that group there was one boy, pretty ordinary and nerdy, geeky, who didn’t stand out, and I fell in love with him.

So one night I decided to leave my ex by blocking him everywhere without any explanation, and that’s how I ended up single. With my friends we had so much fun, we were a big group, but we also had a smaller group of 4: two girls including me, and two boys including the boy I like. But he was a friend before anything else. We got closer, and I told my friends who the boy I liked was, but at the same time I got closer to that boy and realized it was better to have him as a friend and nothing more, because he was still another toxic guy who was better kept only as a friend.

Especially because he had gotten more popular since we became friends, and he liked another girl. He had even told me about it, but that girl is not good. Like I said, I had told my friends who I liked, and two of them wanted to help me. One of them sent a message to the boy saying the girl he liked was bad and that he knew a girl who liked him and was better.

Then that same evening I call this boy, who is my friend, and we talk normally. Then he tells me that this friend had talked to him, but what I didn’t know is that he had told him to join a call where he would say who the girl who liked him was.

After the call, I send a message to the two boys telling them I’m against the idea of telling him, and they defend themselves and then say they’re going to call him to convince him not to like the girl he likes. A bit later they send me a message saying he made a list of 4 girls he didn’t want to date, and I was in it. So then my two friends tell me they can tell him now because I have nothing left to lose. So they tell him, and his reaction is to say “ohh” in a disappointed way after finding that out, and then he said it would’ve been better if he hadn’t known.

Then the two boys admit to me that they knew from the start it would never work and that it was just entertainment. And then they added me to the group with the boy and called me again, again just for entertainment, and I didn’t join. So there you go, I’m mad at them, but at the same time they’re my friends. And I’d like to have a conversation with the boy because I want us to stay friends, but I haven’t talked to them anymore since then.

Oh and also, a little before that, I unblocked my ex because I felt bad, and also my two former best friends. But my ex wanted to get back together with me while I only wanted sex, and I’m tired of men. I feel like I want to be loved but I don’t want to be in a relationship. I want flirting, but I don’t want the guy to not be only mine. I like it when they’re obsessed, but at the same time it annoys me.

I don’t know how to find what I want and someone who agrees with it.

So yeah, if you read all the way to here, I’m grateful, and if you have any advice I’d be happy to hear it.

Tw grooming and suicide

I (15 almost 16) am in a perpetual self imposed hell. my abuser (20 almost 21) showed back up after months of completely abandoning me and you know, I thought that would make me feel better because wow. They kept their promise, they didn’t lie and leave me with this gaping hole in my chest. not really. The months they left were hell, my intrusive thoughts about being groomed quite literally crippled me to the point I commit suicide, got landed in the psychward for a while, and could not return to a normal headspace. I don’t know if i can say it’s worse but it’s not better, well that’s a lie. It’s better in the sense that I feel more normal to know they’re around, suddenly overwhelming intensity of the intrusive thoughts are gone. There’s the illusion that im okay. But now im even more dependent on them than before, while they were away I decided if I got a second chance I would do or give anything to keep them, to the point I’d ditch all my friends and family if they decided they actually loved me again. Currently, as further proof of how serious I am im cheating on my partner (15) for them, and I know I should give my all to someone who actually cares about me, I truly don’t deserve my partner but it feels fundamentally wrong to date anyone who isn’t hurting me. Maybe im just not meant for it. I’m planning to break up with my partner soon because I don’t want to betray them further while parasitically zapping all of their goodwill, but I can’t tell what the right way to do it is. I’m selfishly holding on.

It hurts me so much that I let you do all that shit to me and yet i still feel so disposable to you . Maybe thats how I’ll make my partner feel if they find out about all this shit, and then I’ll really be like my abuser. Am I not doing enough? I try to be interesting and suck up to your every whim, im different than when you left me. im entirely devoted to you, I try to give you space even though it feels like death. Maybe I should be more grateful you’re giving me the time of day at all. Be that 1-3 messages on average. Since we’re both a mistake of human beings this should suffice. Still, everytime you’re cold or short with me I feel so worthless I could genuinely die, I want to. I know you’re tired, I know you’re depressed and can’t talk much but everytime you take hours to respond to me at all I feel like falling deeper into this shitty cycle of shitty people and I know damn well there’s no way I can live a normal life again after this, and I can’t help but doubt the fact that you love me at all. If you leave me I know I’ll have to kill myself, cuz then there’ll be nothing else left to stop my intrusive thoughts from torturing me. I’m so disgustingly miserable it’s insane.

It’s not love, nor a situationship, nor even friendship. It’s just two strangers who met one night. He started to open up to her comfortably, like he never had before. They are also neighbors, but on different floors.

The issue here is that he opened up to a woman who barely knows herself. She has zero self-confidence, overthinks everything, feels numb, and what’s worse, she is an attention seeker.

They almost had the same childhood trauma. She felt bad that he went through all that at such a young age. Exactly two weeks passed, filled with the best memories together, until he asked her for the third time to come to his room just for coffee. She accepted only because he asked in a way that made her feel like she was being questioned: “Why don’t you trust me?”

In his room, he kept assuring her that she was comfortable by asking and offering tea and snacks. It started with her crying when he told her why he has a missing finger and that he had tried to kill himself, but thankfully only lost his finger. Here, she started to tear up, trying to hide it, but when he saw it, he tried to calm her down and hugged her. She didn’t push away; she hugged him too.

When she was fully calm, she said, “We shouldn’t touch.” Then he replied, “I didn’t know what to do when I saw you like that.”

On other nights, she showed him her gloves and jokingly said, “We can hold hands with gloves on.” Then they were playing with the wheelchair like kids. He hugged her, and she didn’t pull away but hugged him more. He asked her, “Do you want to take off your gloves?” She said okay. On other nights, he asked how her hair looked and said he wanted to see it. She said she wanted to show him her hair but couldn’t (she is hijabi), but she did take it off.

On other nights, they started to hug in silence for hours and sleep together (clothed). All of that happened within one month.

Then one night, at the end of the month, she said, “Could we go back to being friends?” She wanted to argue, but he just said okay. Then he offered her to sit while he went aside. She said, “I want to leave,” and she left.

Here is what she told him exactly that night:

“I want to be friends like we used to be before. I know you like to talk comfortably alone, but we could meet in any garden outside and talk. I just don’t like where our friendship is going, and I know it’s against my religion. You know that was never me.”

He said, “I understand, and you are right. Actually, I am sorry that I hurt you. I know you are a good girl, and I pushed you to come here. And by the way, I spread Islam. See the Quran you gave me; I gave it to a friend. As you know, I don’t read English; I read it in my language.”

Then he walked to the edge of his bed (beside the window) to smoke and moved the chair toward her. “Sit,” he said. She replied, “I’m going to leave.” “Okay,” he replied.

Two days passed in silence. She asked him what was going on with their friendship.

He said, “You wanted that.”

She replied, “I said friends, not strangers.”

He said, “This is better for you. I don’t want to hurt you again, and I actually changed because every word you said was right. You are going to be okay.”

She said, “I didn’t mean to break the friendship. How can we fix it?”

He kept repeating his words, and she kept asking. In the end, he said, “Do you really want it to be fixed?”

She said yes.

He said, “Come.”

She came. They repeated the same conversation. Then he asked her, “Can we hug for the last time?” She said yes without hesitation. Then they slept together like before. He said, “This is going to be our last night.”

Then she left.

Two weeks of silence passed, then they met by coincidence. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’m okay. I missed how we were before,” she said.

“I know, I missed it too, but that’s good for you. You will be fine, don’t worry,” he said.

A week later, she texted him “hello” but deleted the chat, not realizing the message itself wasn’t deleted. The next night, he replied “hello.” She forgot she had even texted him, so the conversation went: hi, hi, hi. Then she said, “Man, say something other than hi.”

“Wanna come?” he asked.

She replied, “Really or a joke?”

“For only one hour,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

They met, but that night was different from any other night.

She told him she started vaping. He told her not to, that it’s bad. He said he started to have chest cramps from vaping and advised her to stop. Then they started hugging. For the first time, they had sex. He kept asking if she was comfortable. They finished, and she left.

During those two weeks, she started to look for a therapist so she could understand herself and learn how to express her emotions, but that needed time. She went for a faster solution and vaped for the first time, although she knew she wasn’t allowed to, but she bought one anyway.

As time passed, her body started to give her warning signs due to the vape. She has anemia, so she simply threw the vape away.

A week passed. He texted her, “Are you asleep?”

“Trying to,” she said.

He asked her to come, but she said they could meet outside (she knew he would say no). He replied, “You know I just came back home, it’s okay, just forget it.”

“Okay, night then,” she replied.

The next day, she texted him, and they met. That night was short; they just kept staring at each other, then hugged. She told him she was on her period and that’s why she looked tired. They kept hugging until he fell asleep on her shoulder. She woke him up, told him to go to bed, and said she would leave. She left.

A couple of hours later, he posted a story of a depressed man. She commented, “Man, this photo says a lot.”

He replied, “I am okay.”

She replied, “You know I’m around whenever you need, even if it’s just sitting in silence.”

She feels bad for him, as she keeps telling herself that he is using her, but she isn’t sure yet whether he is honest with her or playing.

They both aren’t ready for marriage, and they don’t want to be a couple. Also, neither has feelings for the other.