Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

yeah

idk know how to like

say this

without making it like

obvious

who its about

anyway

so like

it took me until like five minutes ago to figure this out

but I mean knowing me I've prob just been like

avoiding my feelings

for this long

bc like

what if they don't feel the same

like why is this what I'm thinking of

when I should be like

doing my work

like

why are they 99% of what I think of now

help me I'm going insane

*sobs*

and then like

what do I do with

with these like

these feelings

I don't wanna like

upset anyone

what do I do

ALSO HEY YOU (you know who you are) UHHHHHH YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS NUH UH UM ITS UHH THIS IS ABOUT ONE OF MY THEATRE FRIENDS TOTALLY HEH UM yeah...

I’m currently a 32 yo woman in a stable relationship. My biggest wish would be starting a family with my long time boyfriend but we both agreed we should do that after having a bigger house of our own. Everyone around me is managing to do that (some have inherited their house from parents or relatives, others have already managed to buy one) and start a family of their own. We are currently paying rent for a small apartment and working our asses off to put away some money but house prices for a decent place (with some room for a future kid) still seem to be out of our range. I kinda feel hopeless at this point. Will I ever be able to achieve my dreams? It seems impossible to me as of now, I really don’t know what to do and I feel like my life is meaningless. I feel like I am late at life and that when we’ll be able to realize our project it will be to late for me to have a child.

15 year old here.

Although some people find me smart (and I can agree to a certain degree) it is a middle position. Advanced topics of mathematics, physics, computer science and etc. capture my interest, but I often navigate them worse than most people considered prodigies or anything alike. It's not a matter of just confidence, self-esteem and such as it is a quality I genuinely value and would love to have, is required for most of my interests, so it is not a situation where one grieves over lack of it without a reason. Typically, raw intelligence can not be drastically improved. Most I can do is educate myself, but that just does not feel enough.

What do I do? How do I cope with not being even nearly as smart as people from my social circle that I strive to be alike to?

Because of my low self esteem, I went on a chatting website and made my pfp a picture that showed off my body to get compliments from guys so that I could feel better about myself. I ended up going a bit too far with this one guy and sent him an exposed picture of me. I feel guilt and worse than before.

One day online I met a boy 13 year old me didn’t think anything of it we turned into really good friends then he asked me out I said “yes” because I liked him to the older we got the more off and on we became but we never fought or argued we just wanted to experiment other people I didn’t have a problem with it because we made a promise to eachother that we will always find a way back to eachother and get married and have kids things like that he was my first everything even though I seen him many times anytime I seen him it felt like the first time i couldn’t help but get shy everytime. As time passed by we got older we didn’t talk for a couple months because he got a girlfriend I respected it so it didn’t bother me one random day I got a FaceTime call from a number I didn’t have saved or didn’t recognize it was him we didn’t speak for 6 months and suddenly he calls it was like a dream kind of we laughed and talked he wanted to meet and he told me how much he missed me how could he miss me but he was still with her it didn’t make sense I brushed it off later that day I made an excuse to get off the phone.A couple hours passed and he texted me with a paragraph saying how he messed up and he’s sorry and he thinks we should be together when we are older or just stay how we are he said that he loves me but he loves his girlfriend too I responded “if you loved her you wouldn’t be texting me” he replied and said “your right but you’ve been there through everything at my lowest you were there I’m gonna always have love for you “ I replied “im confused what’s wrong why are you acting like this “ he replied “you wouldn’t understand I’m not gonna give up on us even if you do I’m so sorry” I started to get angry because nothing was making sense I replied “what do you think I am huh I’m tired of being everyones second option I’m not doing it you love her stay with her don’t text or call me “ he replied “how could you be my second option if you were my first choice “ I replied “if you were for me there wouldn’t be any choices” he replied “you fuck it up for us not just you me too we both did everytime we got together it was right person wrong timing that’s why I’m in this situation I’m in because we couldn’t get the timing right” he typed “let’s talk on Wednesday please “ I replied “okay”

He replied “I love you “

I replied “ I love you most”

The next day he texted me “Goodmoring text me when you wake up “

I texted back that I was up

Hours went by no reply

Then I sent a text at 7:34 pm

Didn’t go through

I turned to my sister and asked if I could use her phone I typed his number in her phone and sent a text

It went through

I sent another text

“Why did you block me ?”

He read it

I hear my phone “DING DING DING”

I go to grab my phone he unblocked me and said “can you just leave me alone you said to stop texting you and to leave you alone that’s what I’m doing “

“Did you text my girlfriend ?“

“Just let me be happy stop tryna ruin my relationship “

Tears form up in my eyes I didn’t understand why I replied “I didn’t text anyone “

3 days passed a notification popped up someone requested my account I requested there’s back boom I’m accepted I click on there story ……. My stomach started to turn my eyes felt like they were on fire it was his girlfriend posted him and her but that’s not only it her 3 highlight was a picture and in the picture there was a baby his girlfriend was 6 months pregnant it all started to make sense now I didn’t know what to do it’s not like I could do anything all I did was cry and cry I had to accept another women’s baby will have the eyes of my first love the eyes that 13 year old me looked into maybe in another life He didn’t break our promise .

My whole childhood(until 10 years old) I spent in the biggest room of our little house, alone and surrounded only by plushies and markers. Dad was always away for work. Mom was busy with her own job. I was left alone. No one to talk to, no one to play with, and no one to hug but myself. At first it may seem like they didn't care at all, but no, my parents are amazing people, they were just... busy.

(And yes, I know most people here would much prefer some sort of cheating drama but this is a venting app okay? also sorry if I make any writing mistakes english isn't my first language)

Two years later Im sitting in my room, now living in an apartment, reading smut after smut in an attempt to feel any kind of connection. school is horrible, each day feels like routine and my only way out is doomscrolling and spacing out with music on full volume in my headphones, pretending life is okay. I feel this void inside me, this sickening urge to seek out somebody, anybody who would just hold me for hours on end. I long for an embrace and yet I am too scared to ask for it straight up because I am not used to speaking. That's where the second thing comes in — my speach. J constantly stutter, I struggle with expressing my opinions, I have sudden waves of talking whenever I get the chance, and I will never be able to speak out about the void inside me. That moves on to the next thing:I'm afraid of telling th8s to my parents. Why? Well, dad has his own trauma and he shows it by joking about spanking me with a belt, by saying "growing up strong can only happen if you have been hurt in childhood" and it drives me nuts. Also, my mom is all about being all supportive and modern, but the whole "always calm down first" thing? And worst of all, drum roll please, therapy is shamed in our country! Another thing I want to mention is praise — I never got much praise beyond my drawing skills and my ambition for learning english. So now, whenever I get complimented, I always reask to make sure it's not a joke, that they mean it, and is a desperate attempt to get more praise. Because toys can't tell me of I'm good at something or not.

Alright, I think that's enough. Thank you for being here, and thank you for listening!

(https://youtu.be/bCoMKguyo7w?si=4WpOGA-Err0zJXIF)

I’ve had a horrible couple months of being unemployed, procrastinating on school work to the point of failing, and overall going through a rough emotional headspace. I’ve taken this time to get to the root of the problem and really get to know myself and why exactly I feel the way I’ve been feeling for the past few years, it’s all been a cycle of going hard, burning out, and having nothing to show for it while everyone else seems to move along just fine… am I doing something wrong?

I have unmedicated ADHD so perhaps that has been quite an important step in realizing that my mental health and overall mental capacity is different to everyone else’s, and so it makes me feel so lonely and misunderstood especially when it comes to emotional topics, all my friends and family seem to turn away and not really get what I’m really trying to say.

Recently I had a huge fight with my mom about triggers and trauma and she kind of threw it in my face that I’m gay and that long story short; feels ashamed. I thought about it long and hard, and it made me feel even worse. All my friends have something to show for themselves and have a good support circle in their lives, meanwhile I feel like I have to come home alone and find solace in myself whenever I feel pain… I understand no one is coming to save me, but having something to call my own and fall back on would be so great…. I’m slowly but surely getting there, but I can’t help like I have to do it all alone.

We all have those times when we take a good long look at our lives and think, "Wow, my family is basically toxic." Yeah, that’s me, sitting here at 17, kind of over all the crap I’ve had to deal with since I was little; like, when did it become completely normal for people who are supposed to love and support you to treat you like you’re some low-life piece of trash? I mean, seriously? It’s been this way as far back as I can remember, and sometimes I wonder if anyone else feels like this or if it’s just me – does anyone else out there have a family that just doesn’t know how to be nice? It’s like I’ve been living in a sitcom that got canceled after one season, with a cast of characters who just can’t figure out how to act right. I constantly find myself waiting for the finish line of high school to come into sight because that’s when I know I can finally break free. You know, the moment where I can just stand up and say, “Screw you all! I’m outta here!” But here I am, still enduring endless lectures from my parents about how I’m not good enough or how I need to shape up because apparently, my life goals were decided by them when they thought having kids would be a walk in the park. How do they expect me to thrive when I feel suffocated by all their demands? It’s maddening! It’s disheartening to think that I’m surrounded by people who don’t even see my potential, who seem to want to keep me small and miserable. Like, where’s the understanding? Where’s the compassion? Where’s the basic human decency? I’ve tried to talk to them about how I feel, but every time I open my mouth, it’s like throwing a paper plane into a hurricane; all it does is get torn apart and blown away. Have you ever had a conversation that felt like you were speaking a completely different language? I can’t count the number of times I’ve faced resentment just for wanting to express my thoughts. It’s as if my voice doesn't even exist; it’s frustrating because I have dreams, aspirations, actual plans of how to better my life. I want to work hard and make something of myself, but instead of encouragement, I get subjected to eye rolls and dismissive comments. It’s unhealthy and toxic, and there’s no other way to put it! Honestly, I’d rather be alone than in a house where I’m constantly reminded of my so-called shortcomings; I have no clue how they think this is going to help me in the long run. And, sure, they say they care; of course, they do! But their version of care seems to be wrapped in criticism and negativity, which makes me roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised I don’t see my brain. There’s nothing quite like feeling like the black sheep of the family, which is ironic because I sometimes wish I could turn into a literal sheep and just roam peacefully, far away from all the chaos. Even when we’re all sitting together for dinner, it feels like a battleground where every stare cuts deeper than a knife. You can cut the tension with a knife; it’s palpable! The silences are more deafening than the arguments, where everyone just eats in a hollow, uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other’s gazes like I'm some kind of alien invading their planet; and for what? I’m just trying to survive here! I guess the only silver lining is that I’m learning resilience. I’m becoming stronger with each drama-filled day. I’m looking forward to the moment I can fly away and create a life that is mine, free from emotional blackmail; it’s almost like my own personal rebellion! I keep reminding myself that this toxic environment doesn’t define who I am or what I can achieve. I hope to find my own supportive community outside of this mess, a place where people encourage you to chase your dreams and don’t tear you down at every opportunity. I know there’s a world out there full of kindness and warmth, waiting for me to find it! Yes, I may have a toxic family, but I believe I can break this cycle! How many of you feels this way too? Isn’t it time we all just took charge of our own narratives and molded them into something beautiful?

As a professional hairdresser, I recently had an experience that left both a client and me in an uneasy spot. A woman booked an appointment for her daughter with me for a haircut and dye job, even though I'm not their usual hair stylist. Their regular stylist was on vacation and someone recommended my services. The booking was for a trim and a color treatment, with the client's mother explaining over the phone that her daughter had long hair. Our receptionist affirmed that I could manage as I typically deal with clients who have up to waist-length hair. Much to my concern, due to a knee condition that's been troubling me for a while (I'm actually scheduled for surgery soon), I find it challenging to kneel, which is something necessary for handling hair longer than waist length.

The appointment day arrived and initially, I didn't realize how long the daughter’s hair was since she wore it bunched up in a bun. The mother expressed gratitude for squeezing them into my schedule and mentioned they sometimes struggle to find appointments because of her daughter’s unique hair length. As the young girl settled into my chair and released her bun, her hair cascaded down past her knees. It became immediately clear her hair exceeded the length I'm capable of handling. I consulted her about its length, and upon confirmation that it was indeed beyond what I could work with, I called over her mother to explain the situation. Despite my explanation and apology for not being able to proceed with the haircut because of its length and my physical limitation, the mother was quite frustrated.

She argued for a refund of the £50 booking fee, which our policy states as non-refundable. I brought her concerns to the salon owner, who decided to issue a refund, but also reminded me of the importance of clear communication regarding service limitations. The mother later resorted to leaving negative comments on our salon’s Facebook page, suggesting a misrepresentation of my skills in handling long hair. It certainly wasn’t a pleasant situation for anyone involved, and made me reflect on how I communicate what can and cannot be done given my current health limitations.

What would be the reaction from the public if this misunderstanding was spotlighted on a reality TV show? It would probably view differently, with audiences possibly sympathizing with both sides of the argument due to the personal, behind-the-scenes look into the challenges that both parties face. Such exposure might even allow viewers to better understand the complications involved in hairstyling that go beyond simple cuts and trims.

Am I at fault for turning away a client with extremely long hair?

I am sixteen years old. I am a woman. I am writing this becuase I need to get it out, and IIWIARS is the only place that does not pretend to care. This happened at school, in a hallway that smells like cleaner and boredom. A guy I liked said I was an ugly fat girl. He did not whisper. He did not laugh. He said it like a fact, like he was reading attendance. I stood there and nodded, which still annoys me. I went to class and took notes. I underlined dates. I answered questions. Inside, something cracked and stayed cracked. I am not here to beg for comfort. I am here to state what happened and what it did. Words are not harmless. They sit on you. They weigh more than backpacks. 😐

I liked him in a quiet way. I watched how he spoke to teachers and how he tapped his pencil. I imagined conversations that never happened. That part is on me. The part where he decided my body was public property is on him. He looked me up and down, slow and lazy, and then said it. Ugly. Fat. Girl. Three words, clean and sharp. People nearby heard it and pretended not to. That is how school works. Silence is the dress code. I walked away without crying. That seems brave, but it was just shock. I cried later, alone, and felt stupid for doing it. Do you know how fast confidence leaves when someone names you like that?

I am not pretending to be neutral about it. I am angry. I am also tired. I am aware of my body. I live in it. I know its shape, its limits, its hunger. I am not blind. I am also not broken. His comment did not reveal a truth. It revealed his need to feel larger. People say boys are immature, like that excuses anything. It does not. At sixteen, you know enough to be kind or cruel. He chose cruel. I chose silence. I am still deciding if that was a mistake. It is wierd how one sentence can replay itself all day, louder each time. 😡

I am writing this in a formal way on purpose. Clear sentences help me breathe. This is not a dramatic story. It is common. It happens alot. Girls learn early that their value is negotiable. Boys learn early that opinions can be weapons. Teachers say ignore it. Friends say he is insecure. Both statements can be true and still useless. I did not ask for advice. I did not ask for approval. I am stating that being called ugly and fat changes how you walk into rooms. It changes mirrors. It changes lunch. It changes how you hear laughter behind you. I am definately not pretending it rolled off me. 💔

If you are reading this, ask yourself something simple. Have you ever reduced someone to a label just to feel powerful? Have you ever stayed quiet when you could have spoken? I am sixteen. I am a woman. I am learning how to exist in an enviroment that judges before it listens. I do not hate him. I do not forgive him either. I am balanced enough to say both. This is not a victory speech. It is a record. Ugly fat was what he said. This is what I say back, calmly and clearly, in my own words.

For the past 16 years of marriage, punctuality has continued to be an elusive concept for my spouse's parents. They are consistently late by 20 to 30 minutes and fail to notify us in advance of their tardiness. Last Halloween was particularly telling. They had promised to arrive at 6:30 PM for trick-or-treating with my now-teenage children, who had canceled their own plans to spend the evening with their grandparents. When 7:15 PM rolled around without any sign of them, a phone call revealed they were still "5 minutes away." They eventually showed up 23 minutes later, apparently unconcerned by their lateness.

This recurring issue has compelled me to establish a new family rule I've dubbed the "5-minute rule." According to this directive, if someone says they'll arrive at a specific time and fails to show within 5 minutes of that time, we proceed without them. If it's a meal, we'll order and start eating. If they arrive as we're finishing, we’ll simply leave.

An example of this rule's implementation occurred just this evening. They had made plans to dine out with my teenagers, affirming a 7:00 PM pickup. Reminder of the "5-minute rule" was given during a phone conversation at 2:00 PM. Nonetheless, by 7:05 PM, they had neither appeared nor called. When I contacted them, they claimed to be 10 minutes away. I directed them not to rush, as we would not be waiting, despite their pleas for another chance citing their one-hour drive as an excuse.

It feels outright disrespectful that they don't regard our time with any seriousness. Should I feel bad about enforcing my rule?

Imagine how this issue would unfold if it was part of a reality TV show scene. The dramatization of the confrontation, complete with tense music and close-ups, would likely divide viewers. Some might side with the grandparents, arguing that family deserves patience and understanding. Others might applaud the enforcement of boundaries as a necessary step in cultivating respect for others' time. The episode would definitely spark debate and could possibly even trend on social media as viewers share their own family punctuality horror stories.

Now, thinking about this situation, I wonder: Is my new "5-minute rule" too harsh?

As I sit here reflecting on my life, I cannot help but confront the pervasive sensations of existential dread that have accompanied me throughout my existence. Being 31 years old, a male navigating the complexities of adulthood, has brought forth a cavalcade of thoughts that often orbit around philosophical quandaries and abstract concepts that seem to hold me in a vice-like grip, compelling me to analyze every facet of my reality, both past and present. In a world where the mundane often shrouds the profound, I find myself ensnared in an endless loop of ruminations, particularly those that provoke anxiety surrounding my own existence, the nature of reality, and the elusive meaning of life itself. For instance, I was recently walking in the park—a typical Saturday outing to decompress after a taxing week—when I stumbled upon a seemingly innocuous tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, yet my thoughts spiraled into an intricate analysis of its existence: Was this tree merely a transient anomaly in the grand scheme of the universe, serving no greater purpose than aesthetic pleasure for the passerby? Or did it embody an essential piece of a larger cosmic puzzle, contributing to the ecological systems that sustain life on Earth? These dilemmas circulate in my mind like a hamster on a wheel, never quite yielding the clarity I so desperately seek. Coupled with these musings are the persistent obsessions that arise from my experience with OCD, a condition that amplifies my tendencies toward overthinking everything that might seem trivial to another—like the cycle of life and death, the inevitability of decay, and, perhaps most dauntingly, the question of whether I am truly living authentically or merely going through the motions dictated by societal expectations. I often wonder whether others grapple with similar sentiments; might they find themselves staring into the abyss of their own thoughts, lost in contemplation about the purpose of their existence? During one particularly trying episode, I recall sitting at a café, attempting to savor my espresso while the cacophony of voices around me morphed into a philosophical dialogue of its own, leading me to ponder the vastness of the universe and my infinitesimal, seemingly inconsequential role within it. Is it possible that I am just another fleeting consciousness amidst an unforgiving cosmos, merely existing rather than truly living? Yet, while these thoughts may initially seem daunting, I have come to realize that acknowledging such existential questions can catalyze growth and introspection. I have learned that challenging oneself to navigate through these labyrinthine thoughts can lead to an enriched understanding of my own beliefs and values, often prompting me to realign my priorities and appreciate the sheer beauty of fleeting moments—like the laughter of a friend or a stunning sunrise illuminating the horizon. Amidst this internal chaos, I find solace in the notion that there is something inherently human about grappling with uncertainty and the quest for meaning; it binds us together as we navigate a shared experience defined by our complexities. As I confront my existential OCD, I recognize the potential beauty in vulnerability, for it carries the promise of connection and growth. Whether through conversations with friends or moments of solitude, I have discovered that vulnerability can engender resilience, allowing us to confront our deepest fears and emerge stronger, even amid uncertainty. Thus, I encourage you, dear reader, to embrace the electromagnetic spectrum of emotions and thoughts that accompany the human experience; perhaps you, too, can take a moment to reflect on what it means to exist in a world that often feels overwhelmingly vast. In doing so, we might find ourselves embarking on a journey toward understanding and acceptance, realizing that even in the face of existential quandaries, there is hope and beauty to be found. In a strange way, is it not this very struggle that lends color and meaning to our lives, offering us the opportunity to define our own significance in this unpredictable adventure we call life?

amid the chaos of daily life, one often seeks solace and rejuvenation. recently, I found myself exploring various methods of healing meditation. this journey began as a necessity, a response to the overwhelming stress I had been experiencing. each evening, I would carve out time to disconnect from technology and immerse myself in the soothing environment of my living room. I would sit comfortably on a plush meditation cushion, dim the lights, and create a serene atmosphere by lighting a calming lavender candle. these small rituals became anchors amidst the storm of my thoughts. during meditation, I found myself focusing on my breath, allowing the rhythm of inhalation and exhalation to ground me. it is fascinating how such a simple act can bring clarity. those moments in stillness revealed patterns of anxiety that I had not fully acknowledged. 🌿 so, would it not be beneficial to embrace such practices, even if just for a few minutes each day, to promote mental well-being?

over time, I discovered that healing meditation is not merely an escape; it is an exploration of one's inner landscape. I would gently guide my mind to embrace thoughts without judgment. this process, though at times challenging, cultivated a sense of acceptance. I began to realize that healing goes beyond just relaxing. it involves confronting emotions that linger beneath the surface, allowing oneself to experience them fully. during these sessions, I would visualize vibrant colors washing over me, nurturing each lingering worry and transforming it into something more positive.✨ I ponder how many individuals bypass this opportunity for introspection. is the fear of vulnerability holding us back from true healing? while the journey may not offer immediate results, there lies the potential for profound transformation with consistent practice. embracing this path has not only enhanced my emotional resilience but also instilled a newfound appreciation for life’s simplest moments.

ALERT: This is probably TW. Don't read this if you think it could in any way negatively affect you.

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I'm having a breakdown. I hate my fucking body. It's disgusting. My BMI is 18, is very very much. I'm really fat. Ugh, I feel like tearing off all the fucking fat. I'm crying

i dont even know what i did wrong to make people hate me this much, like fr i wake up every morning already feelin sick cause i know what’s waiting for me at school, it’s like a warzone where i never get to win, i walk in and people already lookin at me like i’m some kind of freak or like i don’t belong there, nd maybe i don’t idk, maybe i’m just weird or my face looks dumb or i wear the wrong shoes or whatever stupid reason they decide is enough to mess with me every day, they say stuff under their breath when i pass by, throw little pieces of paper at me in class, call me names like loser, creep, sometimes worse and the teachers don’t even do anything about it, they just say “ignore them” like that’s gonna make it stop, like i haven’t tried that a thousand times already, and the worst part is that it’s not just random kids, some of them i used to be friends with in middle school and now they act like i’m trash, like they’d rather die than be seen talkin to me, nd it hurts so bad cause i didn’t change, they did, or maybe i changed and i just didn’t realize it, i try not to cry but sometimes i do when i get home, and even then i hide it cause my parents don’t get it either, they just say stuff like “it builds character” or “they’re jealous” but jealous of what??? i got no friends, no style, no confidence, i eat lunch alone in the corner of the cafeteria hoping no one notices me cause the last time someone did they dumped ketchup on my backpack and laughed like it was the funniest thing ever, nd i had to pretend it didn’t matter even though it totally did, like everything they do chips away at me little by little and i’m tired of pretending it’s fine, cause it’s not, and the worst part is when i try to act normal or be nice people just laugh harder, like they can smell the desperation or somethin, and i just wanna scream why are people so mean to me, what did i ever do to deserve this, i try to keep my head down, i don’t start stuff, i just wanna survive school without feeling like garbage every day, but apparently that’s too much to ask, nd sometimes i think about just disappearing, like not dying or anything extreme just… not existing for a while, like vanishing until people forget i was ever there cause at least then i wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore, like maybe in another school or another life i’d be normal and ppl wouldn’t hate me for no reason, but right now i just feel broken, like everything i do is wrong and no one wants me around, and idk how long i can keep acting like i’m ok when i’m clearly not.