Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I've recently been asking myself why -the f*ck- am I so unmotivated? and, quite frankly, it's starting to bug me. I mean, I’m 32, and I feel like I should have it all figured out, yet here I am, stuck in this seemingly endless rut. one thing that always hits me is work. Like, seriously, what’s going on with work nowadays?! Year after year, I've watched as impossible deadlines have consumed my time and energy. It seems that the intensity only increases as I get older. Deadlines??? More like "dead-end lines" if you ask me. The pressure to perform and deliver feels crushing, and to top it all off, there’s this whole AI assistance thing now… It’s like I’ve forgotten how to do my job, and AI is just there to slap me in the face and remind me how inadequate I can feel.

Then there’s the future!!! It’s so uncertain. With AI doing everything these days, where do people like me fit in the grand scheme of things? 🤖 It's hard not to feel overshadowed. I remember when I started working - there was genuine excitement and purpose. But now? All I see are stacks of emails, projects that never seem to truly end, and an endless stream of tasks that just never fail to drain any ounce of enthusiasm I have left. How did we reach a point where human contribution feels diluted? Recently, I read a quote somewhere: "Technology is best when it brings people together." Well, sometimes it feels like technology is best when it sidelines people. 😟

When did AI become the new face of productivity and efficiency? I can’t deny its usefulness, sure, I mean, I’ve saved hours thanks to AI, but I can’t help but to remember a time when people were valued for their skills, not the speed at which they can get things done. I’m not saying I’m against progress, but there’s this nagging feeling that I’m just not cut out for the kind of change that’s happening. Am I wrong to feel this way??? I wonder if anyone else out there feels this looming sense of uncertainty about the future at work…

Sometimes, I think back to when things were simpler. A box of office supplies, a friendly chat with colleagues at the water cooler, and those celebratory Friday afternoons when everyone was excited for the weekend. There was a real sense of camaraderie back then. Nowadays? Everything’s just distant and digital. Is social interaction a thing of the past? 🫰 Maybe it's just one of those slumps that people go through in their lives, I don’t know. But all of this has made me really question not just the future of my career but what fulfillment means to me personally. After all, isn’t it possible that we’re supposed to navigate these transitions and uncertainties with grace and adaptability??? Or maybe, it’s truly time for a career change or a soul-searching sabbatical.

My mother used to reside close to my brother, embracing solitude especially after our father passed away. Her desire was simple: to spend more time over dinner with my brother and his family. Sadly, his wife, Emily, wasn't too fond of this idea, and they settled on monthly visits.

As time passed, my mother began experiencing health issues, sending frantic messages and making numerous unscheduled doctor visits. During this period, Emily posted online, suggesting that my mother was merely seeking attention and feigning illness to drive a wedge between her and my brother. Consequently, my brother distanced himself from our mother, influenced by the storm of accusations.

Observing these changes prompted me to visit my mother, as I live in a different state. It didn't take long to notice that something was seriously wrong. After a quick doctor’s visit, we received a heartbreaking diagnosis: dementia. I relayed the news to my family and took on the role of her primary caregiver. Despite this, Emily continued to insist on social media that my mother was pretending, with my brother supporting her claims unwaveringly.

As my mother's condition worsened, I pleaded with my brother to visit her before she passed away. Regrettably, he failed to show up even for the cremation. Now, here's where it gets even more heated: after her death, my brother and Emily had the audacity to ask for some of her ashes. I was appalled and bluntly refused, given his lack of concern in her final days. This led to a heated exchange, and I ultimately demanded that he and his wife leave immediately.

He has since been branding me as insensitive and demands an apology, leaving our family divided. Some side with me, expressing outright disdain for Emily and my brother’s actions, while others feel I should relent, reminding me that he is still her son.

Imagine if this saga unfolded on a reality show. The cameras would capture every tense moment, turning private grief into public spectacle. How would viewers react to the raw display of family conflict, overshadowed by the glaring insensitivity towards a mother's illness? This could potentially shift public opinion, rallying support for some while casting harsh judgment on others.

And you, what would you do in my situation?

I am unable to express myself, and as a result, people misunderstand me, calling me weird or crazy.

​Nobody understands me. Since childhood, I have always just been myself, but my emotional growth is stunted because I grew up in a very volatile environment.

​I rarely got my parents' help when I needed it; I had to solve my own problems, feeling like I had no support. I sometimes cry, thinking about how lonely I feel inside.

​I've realized that people will only give you attention and care if you are providing them with benefits.

​Truly, I crave a little love. I envy people who were lucky enough to grow up in a good, happy, or at least an emotionally sound environment.

​Now, I feel I can never understand certain emotions, such as making bonds over time. I had some nightmare-inducing experiences in childhood that prevent me from having certain emotions.

​As of today, I want to grow, but I don't know how. Whenever I ask anyone for help, they either leave me, laugh, or just talk behind my back about how naive and witless I am.

I went to my school carnival, it was fine, I guess. There were many people, and I only went there to buy some merch and stuff. I saw my classmates, said hi to a few of them, but otherwise I didn't do anything with them because they had their own groups doing their things, but I think I dressed well and I got a strawberry keychain, a small Amazonite tumble, and some stickers of K-Pop Demon Hunters and a chemistry version of "Iconic" with moments captured, to say, "Iconic moments captured". But yeah, it was fine, mom got some magnets, my brother hung out with his friends. Honestly, my loneliness now felt more hollow than sad. I told my mom maybe I was destined to be a hermit, and she said, "Even they live, and stop whining. We need to get something." And when I told her no one really greeted me, not that I expected them anyways since I belong in the garbage, she said, "It'll take time, please." Take time, it took 7 years. When we came home after a nice Oriental meal, it was really filling, mom noticed I end up scratching myself way more due to my eczema, and mom admitted she knew why because it gives relief, but when I told her I also do this because when everything goes to hell, I don't have friends, I score low in exams, I stop drawing, scratching is the only thing I'm good at. Mom looked at me weird, told me I live a privileged life, and that when her parents split she was worse off for a while, but weirdly, after I told her "Maybe my problems aren't real." And she said, "You think I said that? Try to think positively for once. It's a slow process." It has been 7 years already, I've given up the search for friendship and love, because to me, it's now a sin my body still wants. In fact, why bother with people? Love and friends are a risk, a liability, and scratching and thinking of doomsday is the only reason I'm alive. It's the only way I'm not getting into bad situations, because I don't trust people. I have eczema, I do get a relief, mom knows. You may say, "Oh stop this self-harm!" But this is from eczema, I've always had this. I have! It's just gotten slightly worse over the years in terms of skin. But it doesn't matter, because as long as I'm not getting an infection or at risk of dying, I'm just suffering a skin disorder. Even mom doesn't get it, because she's an idiot! Why do I even trust her!? She deserves to leave, and so does dad, and my brother who rubs salt in my wound by calling me "friendless", "ugly", "short", "stupid because you scored low marks" on a daily basis thinking it's a joke. I get it, you have more success than me! I'm a flopped movie! But one man who I forgot the name of was right, "People is hell". Hell is other people. That one author of "No Exit" was right. People are disgusting creatures. I may have yelled at mom today, but that's the freest I've felt. Hurting disgusting creatures is easier than living with them, considering I'm a warrior in a world of Hell. Making them feel bad with my harsh words. Hell is other people. Mom is delusional for wanting hope. I've hoped long enough, and it's a mere childish thing. We humans perceive things in our own ways, we may not share the same sights at all, and maybe the real world is just nothing, and we projected ourselves onto it like beings orbiting a mass in nothingness. It's some physics theory I heard somewhere. Her perception that it'll get somewhere is her being a human. My mom is forcing it down my throat because she's another mass of life my poor brain created wanting me to suffer. I'm right, aren't I? Isn't the theory correct? Isn't Sartre correct? Aren't I intelligent? Isn't my perception theory correctly recollected? Me being smarter than my peers, even the guy who told me the perception theory as a joke, I reflected and made it make sense. Guts thrived in being alone, he left Casca for 2 years to help himself after she got trauma, and he lived. He reflected so much, all when being isolated. From his team, his girlfriend, to beat Griffith! At least he had a reason to fight, what am I doing? People are anyways uncultured, stupid, mean, ugly pigs who deserve nothing, anyways. I'm really starting to get Dio and Kat from Euphoria more, people are trash! No wonder Dio became a vampire and Kat became who she is, people are trash and he's rightfully ashamed to be human. People are pigs because I'm better than them. Even my classmates are pigs. And you may also say again, "Oh but try therapy!" Enough with the therapist talk! My dad will never let me go to one ever again! I can never ever go to one because it's a fantasy dream! It's just a life I can never have, so the best I can do is just move on or trust mom, which she's already labelled "pig" in my head because parents slow down their children. I'm no longer hating myself, I hate everyone else for thinking I'm a freak for seeing the truth. Nothing matters because nothing exists. I'm a god in a world of pigs. I was only born as a girl unfortunately. Not that I feel gender dysphoria whatsoever, but people are pigs.

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

hey there, just wanted to spill my heart a bit, if that's alright. i'm 51, lost my husband and my son in a car crash. life's just feeling empty and pointless right now. ever felt like that? it's like every day is a struggle to get out of bed. they were everything, my love, my life, my rock. i feel like i'm just floating through the days, you know? trying to keep it together, but it's tough, really tough. it's like i'm watching my life from the sidelines and not really living it. i'm trying to hang in there, but sometimes, i just don't want to live anymore. do you ever feel like you're screaming inside and no one's hearing you? it's like a big hole inside my heart and no matter what i do, i can't fill it.

i try to be strong, but i'm honestly just really tired. tired of crying alone, tired of pretending i'm okay. i miss them so much it physically hurts. ever feel that way? folks say it gets better with time, but it's hard to believe right now. can't even honestly remember what happiness feels like. i just keep asking, what's the point of all this? i'm not bitter, just numb. i do try to focus on small things, like a cup of coffee in the morning or a good book, trying to find a spark of joy. anyway, thanks for reading this. i know folks have it tougher, and i'm trying to keep my chin up. just felt like sharing, maybe you can relate or share a kind word...

I'm 22, a guy. I've had 5 proper friendships in my life.

First and second one in school, after I moved states. They lasted around 10 years until I got into a relationship. They hated my boyfriend, so I got ghosted and blocked everywhere.

Third was a girl in the city i live in now, after I moved out from my parent's house. We got along until she got more and more toxic. She was 18 at the time, she acted like a spoiled 13 year old. Insulted, bullied and humiliated others. I quit that frie4ndship. She stalked me for 9 months.

Fourth was with an ex of mine, after a year of being apart we got to talk again. He's a nice guy. I adore him, in a very platonic way. He's been ghosting me for 2 months now for no reason.

Last one just broke apart today. A friend of 6 years told me about his struggles. I've been there for him for weeks now since he was feeling bad, but i ran out of tips and tricks. Ran out of solutions, so i simply suggested he'd go back to his therapist, that's what she's there for after all. He ignored me for the day and then started insulting me, calling me names, and much worse. I blocked him.

22 years. and not a single lasting friendship because all people turn out to hate me, ghost me or be toxic. I'm giving up on friendship.

I met a guy online a little bit ago and we quickly discovered we had a lot in common and liked talking to each other. We eventually made plans to meet in person. (We confirmed we both were who we said we were and did all the proper safety steps like meeting in public etc) I traveled to where he lives. ( I know now that I should have had us meet halfway in a neutral location but it is what it is now.) we met in a public location and we had hugged and kissed and chatted a bit. He was very sweet but it was a little awkward. I figured maybe we just needed to get used to the in person dynamic. Things improved after a little bit of talking.I was feeling more confident. This is where things went south, I know I shouldn’t have but I did let him convince me to hook up with him at my hotel. I was incredibly uncomfortable and he even said he could tell I was uncomfortable. Not to mention it hurt horribly because he was very rough. He also said right after that he kept having flashbacks of his ex during it. We met up the next day for lunch and right in public he tells me he felt nothing when we did romantic stuff but he did like hanging out with me. I was floored by his coldness and the fact he would do that in a crowded restaurant. It was a relief in a way though because I felt uneasy about him to say the least. Intraveled home early and we have spoken since and he once again told me he could tell I wasn’t ready and that I was uncomfortable when we hooked up and that I was “lucky to have discovered that with him and he was caring enough to be patient with me”. I had tried to bring up some feelings I had from the whole thing like that it effected my confidence and he said it wasn’t fair to him for me to have feelings about the whole thing because he was moving on too. Am I wrong for feeling so torn up and gross about this experience? What do you think?

who needs a bestie?? I miss someone

trigger warning for attempted stabbing, suicidal ideation, and mental illnesses I.E schizophrenia and psychosis.

I feel kinda awkward using this, but i need to get this off my chest.

for some backstory, my mother has diagnosed schizophrenia and psychosis, and she also never stays on her meds. which led to two weeks ago, where she had a psychotic episode. She was going on about killing herself and leaving so she could, I was trying to stop her from doing so because she's my fucking mother and I don't want her to die. I guess she must've stared hallucinating because she eventually stormed into the kitchen and grabbed one of the sharp kitchen knives, holding it above her head with the point in line with me where my shoulder meets my neck. She looked at me, and her eyes were just cold and far away and swung the knife. I was able to grab her arm before it could actually hurt me. that seemed to snap her out of wherever she was because she then turned the knife on herself to try and stab her instead. I had to wrestle the knife out of her hand and lock all of the knives and scissors in our China cabinet while she was distracted. Not to mention how my dad wasn't even home and my mom just barged into our house. I'm just lucky no one got hurt and that my little sister (the middle child) was with her friend and my youngest sister was still at school. But at the same time, because she's schizophrenic, my family keeps telling me I shouldn't be upset because she didn't do it on purpose, they keep downplaying it and getting mad at me whenever I bring it up. i just don't know what to do, I keep seeing the look in her eyes whenever I close my eyes and my brain keeps playing it over and over. I've gotten like four hours of sleep total during the past four days. I feel so guilty for being scared and upset about this because I know it's not her, it's her mental illnesses. and I have diagnosed mental illnesses too so I get that. But I'm being forced to pretend like everything's normal, I still see her on saturdays and tuesdays and I still go to work. it's gotten to the point I have to go to the bathroom at work just to cry. and it's stupid because she's done worse to me so I don't know why this time it's affecting me so much. it's not like being forced to pretend it's normal is new either. I've been doing this since I was five, so why is this time so much harder? Why can't I just push it down like I normally do? Why is this the one that seems to affect me so much when she's done much worse to me before? I just wish it would all stop.

This summer, following a complex surgery that necessitated a lengthy hospital stay and extensive recovery period out of town, I found myself needing substantial assistance. To make the convalescence more appealing for those who were coming to aid me, I rented a spacious seaside house equipped with a swimming pool. It was my hope that this scenic environment would provide a comfortable retreat for my friends and family who volunteered to support me through my recovery. A roster was arranged where my helpers could simultaneously enjoy a sort of vacation while attending to my needs.

My late husband's sister, Janet, was the first to arrive, taking advantage of the luxurious accommodations. She came over while I was still hospitalized, but left abruptly on the day I returned home, without even visiting me once during my hospitalization, citing the nuisance of traffic as her reason. Essentially, she did nothing for me, spending her time enjoying the amenities of the home instead. Before my surgery, I had informed her I was leaving $1,500 in the house to cover the cost of necessary household items, cleaning supplies, and anything our dog might need upon my return. I was both hurt and astonished when I found out she had exhausted all the money in just under a week.

With my health as my priority and conserving energy integral to my recovery, I turned off my phone, cutting off all communication. Despite my critical condition and the support I needed, there was no effort from her side to understand or assist during this challenging time.

Several weeks later, Janet's husband weakly scolded me for not reaching out to comfort her—that I hadn't sent messages or made calls to check on her wellbeing. My answer was unapologetically blunt: "Sorry, not sorry."

When I was well enough to return home, Janet visited. Our meeting was cordial until I confronted her about the misuse of the funds. She defended herself by saying that she had left receipts for everything she purchased, claiming arbitrary expenses that began even before she arrived, which included body wash, breakfast items, and even chewing gum. She also claimed she had stocked up the kitchen, though it was unclear for whom since only leftovers were found. Furthermore, she mentioned some expenses were charged to her own credit card—without providing receipts—and absurdly stated that I had given her the money as a gift, or that it was her expense account. Her sense of entitlement baffled me, especially knowing she had boasted to friends about her upcoming 'vacation' at my expense.

Reflecting on this, the betrayal stings deeply making it clear this bridge is thoroughly burned. But frankly, what difference does it really make now?

One wonders how this situation might have played out under the public eye in a reality show setting. Would the viewers side with me, seeing Janet's actions as opportunistic and unsympathetic? Or would they find fault in my expectations and approach to recovery help? Reality shows thrive on conflict, and this real-life drama could certainly draw in viewers, sparking debates and discussions about family, responsibility, and trust.

I don’t know when exactly I started feeling like this, but lately, everything just feels heavy, like I am carrying a weight that nobody else can see, and no matter how much I try to shake it off, it just stays there. I wake up, go through the motions, smile when I need to, pretend everything is fine, but deep down, I keep wondering what the point of all this even is. What are the reasons to live when everything feels like too much? It is like my brain keeps whispering that nothing really matters, that I am just stuck in some cycle of existing without actually living. And maybe that is why I started thinking about reasons to live, because I know there have to be some, even if they feel impossible to see right now. The first reason, I guess, is that feelings are temporary. I have had bad days before, bad months even, and I got through them. I know I won’t always feel this way, even if my mind tries to tell me I will. The second reason is that there are still things I have not experienced, and I don’t want to leave without knowing what is out there. Maybe there is a city I have never been to that would make me feel alive in a way I never imagined. Maybe there is a song I have not heard yet that will give me chills or a book I will get lost in. Maybe there is a person I have not met yet who will change my whole life. And even if it takes time to find those things, I think they are worth waiting for. The third reason is the people who care about me, even if I sometimes convince myself they don’t. I know that if I disappeared, there would be people who would feel the weight of that forever, and I don’t want to be the reason someone else carries this kind of pain. The fourth reason is that I still have choices. As much as it feels like I am stuck, I know that life does not have to stay the same. If I hate my job, I can change it. If I feel lonely, I can try to reach out. If my life feels empty, I can fill it with new things. Nothing is set in stone, and that means there is always a way forward, even if I don’t see it yet. The fifth reason is that I have survived everything that has tried to break me so far, and that means I am stronger than I give myself credit for. If I made it through all the hard days before this, then maybe, just maybe, I can make it through this too. The sixth reason is that life is unpredictable, and while that can be terrifying, it also means that things can change in ways I never expect. A year from now, I could be in a completely different place, with different people, feeling completely different than I do now. And if there is even a small chance of that, then maybe I owe it to myself to stick around and see what happens. The seventh reason is that I don’t want my story to end like this. I don’t want this to be the final chapter. I don’t know what comes next, but I want to find out. Maybe the reasons to live aren’t always loud and obvious. Maybe they are just little things, like feeling the sun on my skin, drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, hearing my favorite song at the perfect moment. Maybe they are things I haven’t even thought of yet. But they are there, even when I can’t see them, and I am trying to hold onto them, even when everything in me wants to let go.

Im going insane. Im losing my mind. I am over complicating everything. My head is full of all these negative hateful awful feelings about people in my life and i know that its my brain projecting stress and irritation onto them and they havent done anything. I know that. Yet still my head is full of these awful thoughts and im just so upset. And i keep talking about it to people and i actually need to shut the fuck up because i am going to make everyone hate me because im talking about it too much. All the good things in my life are like drowning in little ittt bitty bad things. There are SO many good things in my life. So so many more happy exciting things. But then these little things that are upsetting me are just burrying those good things. But its all my fault everything is my fault. My problem. My actions. My ignorance. My choices. My procrastination. Everything is on me amd how my brain works and what im doing and saying or not doing. Im really really fucking tired.

I was receuited on my school bus my lowerclass people saying they needed eyes in my class especially on one student and i was like sure fine... Fiture me is kind of regretting it. But this society is completly founded and powered by people in a lower class than me. But they aint joking, had me sign a whole official document(i read it) and now i hate to follow the commanding people and the mysterious authority person. Its a simple group tho, we just gather information on people for fun, which is tasked by the commanding people(founders) and sometime get revenge if deemed worthy and funny thing, managed to get one of the founders to admit he used chat gpt for punctuation and complex words😔✋

I have a roommate. She is very nice but clueless. I don't really need advice here- I just need to tell someone what is going on because I can't process it.

She came home today asking me if I could help her understand her work contract. She's a music teacher through a local school. She's been doing this for 8 years, thinking that she's been paid $30 for every 30 minutes.

Her hourly rate, as stated in her contract is $30/hr. She's shocked. Says that others are getting paid $30 for each half hour. Then, she starts complaining about the taxes and fees. She says she pays thousandS of dollars/quarter in taxes.

She made $6000 last year from teaching music (she does have another job). But if she's paying thousandS of dollars/quarter, she's losing money being a music teacher. And this has supposedly been going on for EIGHT YEARS.

I'm shocked and telling her she needs to get this sorted ASAP and she's surprised and responds that she'll do it later.

She is an adult and can make her own choices, but I just don't understand how you could be throwing away THOUSANDS of dollars every year and not have dealt with this. How has she made it this far?

I'm afraid to ask if she's got any retirement. It's just hard to watch her function sometimes

My wife and I have been wed for over three decades. A few years back, we bought the farm from his folks and managed to pay off the mortgage in full. Beyond that, we constructed our dream home right on this land and have established a robust cattle-raising business. Despite our strides in independence, his family frequently seems to need assistance, particularly his two sisters and a few of his nephews. It's important to note that, when his own parents and his sister with Down Syndrome needed care and none of his siblings stepped up, we took the responsibility—even though our own children were still quite young. We felt compelled to act, fearing that otherwise, the state might intervene. From my perspective, family looks out for each other, so looking back never crossed our minds. This decision, however, didn't seem to sit well with his side of the family, as though by taking ownership of the family farm, we owed them more.

Recently, I came into a reasonable sum of money left by my own parents. My husband, kept in the dark about the exact amount, has expressed his displeasure. He’s not privy to the account details. His latest proposal involves digging into this inheritance to build a house on the farm—originally his family’s—for his sisters, liberating them from the burden of rent and the harsh living conditions of apartments. His plan extends to us covering their property taxes and insurance, insisting they can't manage those expenses, though they'd handle their utilities. He sees no need to impose any rent on them.

Why should I draw from the inheritance, which my parents painstakingly accumulated, simply to provide for my husband’s sisters, who don't seem motivated to improve their own circumstances? This money feels deeply personal, like a legacy meant for me, and possibly for our children.

I'm leaning towards investing the bulk of it into trust funds for our children. And part of me is entertaining the thought of using my inheritance to start afresh on my own terms, which might mean considering a divorce. Does this make me selfish for not wanting to funnel these resources into housing for my husband’s siblings on our farm?

Imagine if this familial dilemma were aired on a reality show. The reactions would likely be polarized, with some viewers sympathizing with the duty to family, while others rally behind the conviction to secure one's financial legacy and personal happiness. The presence of cameras could amplify family tensions, drawing widespread public opinion and perhaps skewing personal decisions under the weight of external judgments.