Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I just want to clarify that I love my friends. I've actually talked to them about this. This is just one thing that has been bothering me about them, and I know they just want me around. But I think I've had my patience run thin this week ever since a new game came out. My friends all complain when someone else does this to them, but THEY'VE BEEN DOING IT THEMSELVES. It's been grating me, like my brain is perpetually hearing nails on chalkboard and I just want to let it out.

I know hanging out in silence or parallel playing is a thing in group calls, I do it too. But don't fucking call me or ask me to join a group voice call, only for you to do something else entirely to the point of ignoring me. One example is my friend always asking me to join a call, then just out of the blue decides "OH I need to go on a bit of a walk, brb!" one fucking minute after calling me. They don't even hang up and call later, they just fucking leave me in the call for 30 minutes to an hour to wait for them (I know because one time I stayed to see how long they're gone for, I hang up on them now when they do this).

Another example is one friend asking me to hang out with them, but when I come in, they're all playing a game together. They'd ask me about my day, but when I do tell them but then they're too fucking busy playing that they don't even respond to me. It's one thing if I came in, fully knowing you guys are playing and I just want to see you play a game. It's another to outright ask me to make time for you guys, and just flat out not even acknowledge me. What was the point of calling me here in the first place?

It takes a lot out of me, too, since I get easily tired with social interactions (I love socializing, my energy level is just very low). It's even more exhausting when they specifically ask for my attention, and they just outright fucking ignore me even though THEY asked me to join them.

I don't know, I know it's not that serious. But sometimes, it just feels like they're not respecting my time at all when they do this, and it gets so exhausting.

For the longest time, I’ve been stuck in this cycle of excuses. I’d wake up every morning telling myself I’d make changes, that today would be different, but by the time the day ended, I was back to square one. Whether it’s eating healthier, exercising, or even just cleaning my space, I keep putting it off. I’d tell myself, "I’ll start tomorrow," but tomorrow never seems to come.

Yesterday was my breaking point. I was scrolling through social media and saw an old friend post about running their first marathon. I remember how we used to run together, how much I loved it back then. And now? I can’t even jog up the stairs without feeling winded. It hit me like a ton of bricks—what am I even doing with my life? Why do I keep finding reasons to avoid what I know I need to do?

I looked around my apartment after that. Clothes piled up on the floor, dishes in the sink from who-knows-how-many days ago, and a gym membership card collecting dust on the counter. That’s when it finally clicked—it’s time to stop. It’s time to stop avoiding the hard stuff, time to stop pretending everything will fix itself, and time to stop being my own worst enemy.

I don’t have a perfect plan yet, and honestly, I’m scared I’ll slip back into my old habits. But I know I can’t keep going like this. If I don’t make a change now, when will I? Maybe writing this out will help me stay accountable. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re feeling stuck too, maybe it’s time to stop and take the first step. We’ve got this.

When i tell you that every single one of my friends is talking to a guy, i am not kidding. I have not had a single boyfriend my entire life, no situationships, not even a talking stage.

I have this one friend, lets call her jenna, she is in a month long relationship with this guy that another one of our friends, madison, used to date. Madison has had almost 3 boyfriends since her and this guy, the one that Jenna is now dating, broke up. My other friend, layla, is talking to this guy on snap and gets asked for her number like every other day. Even my really introverted friend, ashley, has secretly been texting this guy sense the begining of the school year.

And its not like im some random person that just lurks in the corner at my school, I sit with a pretty popular group of people, though i am the most quiet in that group. And its not like im super unattractive either, i mean i definitely am not pretty pretty, but i like to think i am average. i mean every now and then a couple girls from school will just walk up to me to tell me i have really pretty eyes, so that must count toward smt, right?

Not to mention, i see guys looking at me when they dont think i see them. BUT NOBODY ASKS ME OUT.

And whenever i do like a guy that i think likes me back, because they are lit always looking at me (im prob just delulu), they always end up liking someone else. One of them was the guy that was texting with ashley 😭 (but i didnt like him, he isn't my type).

I mean for the first couple years of school since i moved to this new state i was the stereotypical nerdy girl, so that might have smt to do with it.

Honestly, im probably just overreacting, it just kinda upsets me that nobody wants to date me.

Thx for reading this, hope u have a good morning/afternoon/night!💕

I don’t even know what’s wrong with me anymore, but I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s like no matter what I do, he’s always in my head, like a song stuck on repeat that I never even meant to play. I keep telling myself to move on, to focus on other things, but then something happens—some tiny, stupid thing—and I’m right back where I started.

I see his name pop up on my phone, and my heart does that annoying little flip, even if it’s just a random meme he sent in the group chat. I pass by the hallway at school where we used to sit together, and I swear I can still hear us laughing, like some kind of ghost of what we used to be. And that’s the worst part—there was a “we” once. Maybe not in the way I wanted, not in the way I dreamed about late at night when I stared at my ceiling, wondering if he ever thought about me like I thought about him. But he was in my life, and now he’s not, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I tried, I really did. I deleted our old messages, I stopped looking for him in every crowd, I even forced myself to talk to other guys just to prove to myself that he wasn’t that special. But itt didn’t work. It’s like my brain refuses to let him go, like it’s clinging onto every little memory, every dumb inside joke, every time he smiled at me in that way that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. And maybe he never meant to make me feel that way. Maybe it was all in my head, some fantasy I built up because I wanted it to be real so badly. But even if it was just me, it still felt real, and that’s what makes it so hard. I hate how pathetic I sound, like some cliche lovesick girl in a bad romance movie, but I don’t know how to make it stop. I tell myself he doesn’t even think about me anymore, that he’s probably moved on without a second thought, and maybe that’s true. But what if it’s not? What if he misses me too, but he’s just better at hiding it?

What if I gave up too soon, what if I should have tried harder, what if this feeling means something and I’m just letting it slip away? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, except that every time I think I’m okay, something pulls me back to him, and I hate it, but at the same time, I don’t want it to end. Because if I stop thinking about him, then what’s left? Just me, alone, with nothing but the empty space where he used to be.

At the age of 86, mobility and hearing challenged I find myself the care giver of my dementia suffering soulmate and my mentally ill adult daughter. It is overwhelming sometime with events and worries of what happens if I am unable to provide the care they need. Members of our small immediate family and our few close friends do not seem to understand.

I will call her Amara, [the essence of spiritual and physical beauty.] It was 70 years ago, in our Junior year at high school and it was love at first sight. She was literally the girl of my dreams then and still is the love of my life. I am blessed. We started dating and married 6 years later.

Amara and I have been the perfect team for 65 years, growing together while supporting each other in everyway possible. One of our daughters has given us a wonderful son-in-law, two grandsons to be proud of, and a beautiful great grandson. Our other daughter is single, emotionally ill and lives with us. She is estranged from the rest of the family outside our home.

In recent weeks Amara has been diagnosed with the early stages of dementia. Many of the symptoms have been present for some time. As I have learned, they are not all related directly to memory.

As a believer, I constantly pray. Everyday I ask for the patience and strength to deal with my own short-comings and provide what my dear wife and daughter need from me. Any constructive advice will be deeply appreciated.

I'm currently in my 32nd week of pregnancy with our first child, which my husband, Felix, and I are very excited about. Luckily, Felix works as a builder, so setting up the nursery was a breeze. We decided early on the style and theme we wanted, and now it's almost finished. It feels great getting this big task out of the way before the baby arrives.

However, my mother-in-law, who has always been a bit overbearing, has been a challenge, even more so after learning about the pregnancy. Despite trying to be supportive, her approach can be critical. For instance, she once suggested I should lose weight for the sake of my health and the baby's, fully aware of my past battles with anorexia. Usually, I let Felix handle her because of her overbearing nature.

Lately, as the nursery neared completion, her pop-ins have increased—especially inconvenient since I work from home. She often comes in, casually asks about my meals, and proceeds to invite herself to join. She doesn’t stop there, though; she often heads straight into the nursery and begins rearranging what Felix and I have set up.

Yesterday was particularly trying. She arrived unexpectedly, criticized my attire, and made a scene about changes I made in the nursery for safety reasons, like removing pillows and fairy lights from near the crib. I tried to explain, but she retorted with outdated advice and hurtfully questioned my potential as a mother. Overwhelmed and tired, I finally snapped and asked her to leave, which she did, albeit begrudgingly.

I wonder if I overreacted; Felix is already planning to speak with her about respecting our boundaries. But was it just pregnancy hormones, or was I right to stand my ground?

Honestly, I imagine if this were to happen on a reality show, the audience would probably be split. Some might cheer for standing up to such an invasive mother-in-law, while others might think I was harsh, interpreting my reaction as part of a dramatic storyline. Reality show or not, it's hard balancing others' expectations with your own during such a vulnerable time.

Was my reaction to my MIL over the top?

so I'm a young animator in middle school currently trying to balance my new object show, school, and my various disabilities that make it difficult to even live properly. I love my show, it brings me joy, but I'm wondering if I'm fixating too much on it. my grades are fucked, im getting in trouble more, and the hiring process is certainly not helping.

Recently, I moved into my first apartment, which has given me the exciting chance to personalize my living space. My mom, an incredibly talented artist with a knack for creating fantasy settings inspired by ancient Greece, painted something special for my brother and me. The painting showcases a teenage prince and princess, presumably siblings, engaged in a playful sparring session. Unique to her art and reflective of ancient Greek influences, the siblings are depicted without shirts, symbolizing equality and a different norm of modesty.

This artwork, filled with sentimental value, holds a place of honor in my apartment's main room. The painting not only captures her artistic skill but also represents a nod to cultural storytelling and historical norms.

However, not long ago, my grandparents and my young cousin, who's just 13, came to visit. I hadn't considered that the painting might be seen as controversial, so I didn't think to remove or cover it. Upon seeing the painting, my grandmother was outraged, labeling it as inappropriate. She expressed severe disapproval, saying it was wrong to display such an image, and even had my cousin wait outside in the car. She pressured me to hide the painting immediately.

Conflicted and taken aback by her strong reaction, I stood my ground. The tension escalated into a full-blown argument as I felt judged in my own home. Her reaction made me question if I was wrong to hang the painting so prominently without considering different perspectives on decency.

Now, imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality TV show, where every dispute and dramatic moment is magnified for entertainment. How might the viewers react to such a family quarrel over a piece of art? Would the public side with my freedom to display any art I choose in my own home, or would they agree with my grandmother's more conservative views on what is deemed appropriate? The inclusion of cameras and an audience could potentially intensify the family dynamics, turning a personal disagreement into a spectacle that challenges both personal and cultural boundaries.

What do you think - was it inappropriate for me to display such art in my home, or should personal freedom in one's living space remain unchallenged?

So I was at school today, and there is this one guy named Sebastien— the school bully who bullies girls, tugs their hairs and you know the rest. He forced Maverick to give him the orange juice Maverick was drinking himself, and he got really mad, and didn’t want to give the juice to Sebastien. So what he did was, he went to the washroom, poured the juice out and replaced it with tap water, then he added some crushed Doritos inside and dipped a yellow highlighter in the tap water. And ON THE NEXT DAY SEBASTIEN DRANK THE SOLUTION like bro’s crazy

Maverick prepared crushed crayons to put in someone’s drink as well— someone who he didn’t like as a backup plan. No one had the urge to snitch, and things are getting scarier😭

I’ve been really stressed lately. My parents often ask me to do chores, and if my mom asks my dad instead, he complains about having “to do all the work” even though he doesn’t help much and mostly just orders me and my little sister around.

My mom sometimes gets really angry and threatens me, even though I’ve told her many times it scares me and doesn’t help. I feel like I always have to be the emotionally smart one at home, calming everyone down. My little sister depends on me too, so I feel like I’m always trying to manage everyone’s feelings.

I’m only a kid, and it’s hard to express anger at home. Typing here is the only way I can release it. I also do a lot of chores and help my mom, but she sometimes says I haven’t done enough. I love my mom, but I don’t want to always have to be the “peacemaker” in the house, especially when my dad tries to guilt trip her or ignores problems.

I just want to know if I’m being dramatic, and I also just need a safe place to vent.

I'm 39 and feeling like I'm drowning; it's just been too much lately. I love my kids, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I feel like I'm running a marathon with no finish line in sight. My husband? He's there physically, but that's about it. It's like living with a ghost. When did life become so exhausting?

Every morning, I gear up to tackle the chaos. My kids, they're the light of my life, but man, they can be a handful. School lunches, homework, tantrums - it's never-ending. Do you ever feel like you're on autopilot, juggling so much that you can't catch your breath? My husband's in his own world, and I can't remember the last time we had an actual conversation. It's like talking to a wall most days.

At home, I'm doing the all-nighter thing without the party vibes. Laundry, dishes, cleaning up messes, and running after the kiddos... Oh, and did I mention working too? Sometimes I stare at the ceiling, wondering if this is it. Is this what adulting is all about? I try to stay hopeful, but it feels like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Self-care? That ship sailed a while ago.

I've tried to talk to him, but it's like we're speaking different languages. How do you get through to someone who doesn't seem to care? It's like he's on a permanent vacation from our life. I just want him to notice me, help out a little. It's not too much to ask, right? Sometimes a hug or a simple "How was your day?" would mean the world. Emojis can't solve everything, but 😢 sums it up pretty well.

Still, I tell myself it won't always be like this. Kids grow up, things change. It's just a stormy phase, and I'll come out the other side stronger. I hold onto that hope like a lifeline. Anyone else feeling something similar? Let's hang in there. Life has a funny way of turning things around when you least expect it. I'm ready for that silver lining.

As a father of four kids, you’d think I’d have the patience of a saint by now, but that’s just not the case. The tiniest things set me off, and I hate the way it feels. I love my family more than anything, but there are days when I catch myself snapping over something completely ridiculous and wonder what’s wrong with me.

Take last night, for example. Dinner time at our house is always chaotic. Plates clatter, someone spills their drink, and there’s a constant battle over who gets the last roll. It’s the usual stuff, and I know it’s part of having a big family, but when my youngest accidentally knocked over the salt shaker for the third time in a week, I lost it. I raised my voice, and the look on her face—pure shock—hit me like a punch to the gut. It was just salt. Why couldn’t I just laugh it off like my wife did? Instead, I made her feel bad for a mistake that didn’t matter.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not the big issues that get to me—it’s the little, everyday stuff. Toys left in the hallway, a sock that doesn’t have a match, a crayon mark on the wall... all of it feels like tiny needles poking at me until I can’t hold it in anymore. And when I snap, I immediately regret it. I see the way my kids look at me, the way my wife sighs and shakes her head, and I know I’m the one in the wrong.

I’ve been trying to figure out where this anger is coming from. It’s not like I want to feel this way. I don’t wake up thinking, Gee, I can’t wait to get annoyed at the world today. But by the time the day’s over, I’m worn out. Between work, bills, chores, and keeping up with four kids, it’s like my patience tank runs dry way too fast. It doesn’t take much to set me off after that.

I think part of it is the pressure I put on myself to keep everything together. I want to be a good dad, a good husband, and someone my family can rely on. But when things don’t go the way I expect—when the house is messy, or the kids are fighting, or dinner gets burned—it feels like I’m failing. And instead of dealing with that feeling, I let it boil over into anger.

Another part of it is how I grew up. My dad was the same way. He’d get angry over the smallest things—a shoe left out of place, a door left open, the TV being too loud. Back then, I swore I’d never be like that, but here I am, falling into the same patterns. Maybe it’s something I picked up without realizing it, but that doesn’t make it okay. I don’t want my kids to remember me as the dad who yelled over spilled milk.

I’ve started trying to be more aware of my triggers. Like, when I feel that frustration bubbling up, I try to pause and ask myself, Is this really worth getting upset over? Sometimes it works, but other times, it’s like the anger is faster than my logic. I know I need to find better ways to cope, but it’s hard to break a habit that feels so ingrained.

My wife has been incredibly patient through all of this. She’s the calm one in the family, the one who can laugh off the chaos and remind me to do the same. The other day, after I got upset about a broken remote control, she pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. It’s okay if things aren’t perfect.” I know she’s right, but letting go of that control is easier said than done.

The hardest part is the guilt. After I’ve calmed down, I think about how my kids must see me in those moments, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want them to feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me. I want them to feel safe, to know that mistakes are okay and that their dad loves them no matter what. But when I let my anger take over, I’m sending the opposite message.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I want you to know you’re not alone. Being a parent is hard, and we’re all just trying to do the best we can. But I also know that getting angry over little things isn’t fair—to ourselves or to the people we love. It’s something I’m working on every day, and if you’re struggling with it too, maybe we can figure it out together.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know this: I don’t want to keep asking myself, why do I get so angry over little things? I want to find a way to let go, to focus on what really matters, and to be the kind of dad my kids can look up to. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I think acknowledging the problem is the first step.

Here’s hoping the next time the salt shaker falls, I can just laugh it off and keep going. Because in the end, it’s not about the salt—it’s about the love and chaos that comes with being part of a big, messy, wonderful family.

I thought that my brother was favored over me. My parents, my grandparents, and even my relatives. Now, it seems like I'm right. I felt horrible after all the years I spent trying and trying to get them to look at me. But who thought that he would bring me more trouble? It all started when my brother started to fight and yell at my parents when he hit puberty. I guess I'm more sensitive to sounds or conflicts since I was crying every night they fought. I just hated all the noise and the words that they spat out at each other. I didn't say a single word to my parents because I feared I would make them angrier. I said everything I felt to my friends, which later caused them to distance themselves. I was too naive to know that they were just young kid like me, not a therapist. After about 2 years of all the noise, I finally told my father I couldn't bear it anymore. My father was concerned after hearing about what I said, and I started to go to a nearby hospital for therapy and pills. But that didn't help. It only made me feel dull and empty, making my hands shakier. The pills didn't help at all. I started to cut myself, but I always ended up panicking and calling my dad for help. I was about 13 years old when I started that. Venting to my friends caused some trouble, and I ended up pushing everybody away from me. I was alone. After they left, I realized that I needed them more than anything. I started to leave school early or skip school for weeks. I even went into the psych ward, but only for about a month and a few weeks. However, that didn't stop my parents and my brother from yelling at each other. I was barely surviving. I spend the next 3 years in the same situation. Now, I'm a high school student in my country, with nothing much being different. A few days ago, my brother got into one of the top-rated universities here. This holiday was a living hell for me. He was smiling and bragging like an idiot. I hate him. How could he be so egoistic when he had torn my life into pieces? I had to go through all of that. I had to lose the people I loved the most, hurt myself, and think that everything happened because of me, like he said. I was a fool to notice that my brother was the problem. I can't even hate him because there's a stupid part of me that's saying that I shouldn't. Only because he's my brother. Because he's family. Even when he doesn't treat me like I'm his younger sister or like a person that's equal to him. I wish I was never here. I wish I wasn't his sister or my parent's daughter. I wish I could be somebody else.

Although I may not be as bad as others, I still feel horrible about myself. I'm fat, ugly, without any hobbies or any significant interests other than games. My music taste is literally just composed to Video Game OSTs so I can't even bond with others. I'm just a hollow shell of a person, no talents, no skills, no hobbies, nothing. "Oh, you like music, what's your favorite band." Oh, uh, I don't know, Studio EIM? I want to feel proud, I want to tell myself that I'm enough, that I'm worth something.

But I honestly can't. My friends always tell me how weird I am for my passion in games. "You're actually such a loser for listening to just Video Game soundtracks lol". I know it's probably just for shits and giggles, but it honestly really hurts whenever they nitpick my already miserable life. And I often feel like a sore thumb when I realize that someone else that likes my interests aren't actually insane for them.

Take for example Project Moon, my most beloved game studio. I feel like I'm always babbling about Project Moon so much because I thought he was the same, but turns out he's just a casual fan. I feel embarassed whenever I feel happy talking about PM because I always think I'm just being a nuisance.

I just don't feel close to them anymore, and I feel like I'm constantly trying to fit in because I'm scared of losing them.

I just want someone that I can trust to talk about anything, knowing that they won't talk behind my back. Someone who would be with me no matter what happens.

My spouse, Annie, performed as a corporate attorney and mediator. She owned an array of stylish professional attire, fit for her demanding role. Tragically, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and passed away within two years. The final six months were particularly grueling.

Throughout this tough period, my sister, Melissa, offered barely any support. Annie and Melissa never really got along—they shared a tense relationship at best—and honestly, I share a similar sentiment towards Melissa. I find her rather self-centered. At Annie’s wake, Melissa had the audacity to inquire about her clothes, hinting she wanted to keep some as mementos. I deflected her requests nonchalantly.

It’s been six months since Annie's passing, and just recently, at my mother’s birthday celebration, I found myself still grappling with grief and not quite ready for social interactions. Yet there was Melissa again, pestering me about the clothes.

I told her that Annie had expressed wishes to donate her wardrobe to a local women's shelter, an organization she fervently supported. The clothing would assist women who needed to dress appropriately for court appearances or job interviews. Melissa snapped, accusing Annie of being selfish even in death, ranting about how Annie always saw herself as superior, and it was unfair that the clothes were going to charity instead of family.

Frustrated, I retorted that I would much rather burn the clothes than see them worn by her. Melissa broke down in tears, and my mother intervened, albeit scolding me instead, urging me to go easy on Melissa because she supposedly took the loss of Annie hard.

The absurdity that escaped from my mother’s mouth was too much—I grabbed my gift and exited promptly. My mother seemed to think that my reaction had spoiled her birthday, but the emotional manipulation over mere clothes which they had no claim over was astonishing.

In a hypothetical scenario where this familial drama unfolded on a reality show, one could only imagine the heightened reactions and possibly a split in viewer opinions. Reality television thrives on conflict, and a situation charged with strong emotional grievances, family conflict, and moral debates like this could escalate dramatically on screen. Audiences might rally behind my point of view, empathizing with the respect towards Annie’s last wishes, or perhaps they would view me as too harsh on my grieving sister, igniting debates across fan forums and social media.

Am I wrong here???