Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I hate my life so fucking much.

For the last 4 months I have been feeling so depressed, numb and alone and every night I sittl in my bed thinking to myself what has my life come to and I in the last 3-4 months I have had at least 2 mental breakdown a week ( that isn't me trying to flex in any way ) and cryed multiple times some times to the point I can't breathe or I fall asleep. This has oveousley been since I started college last September and my mental health just went down hill as I wasn't and still am not going the right support at college for my mental health and just over all my other needs That are clearly stated in my EHCP . The only thing I actually asked for and got was a laptop which I have load till June and the only sort of help I get is on a Thursday and Friday form an member of staff . when I should have someone on a Wednesday which again I did. But sadly it only lasted till the October half term as they gave that person to someone else and lefft me with no one and the worst thing about this hole situation is the or staff members of the support system at the college have been lieing to the support person I have on a Thursday and Friday by saying that I have had help in my lesson when that particular starf members wasn't with me and that is all day every Wednesday. I know it's not there fault or mine but surely they know what students need help. I must admit that every Wednesday when I get home from college I end up helping my mum with jobs then I go up to my room and sit on my phone untill it's time for dinner then I do other jobs around the house then got back up to my room and sit on my phone until it's time for me to go to bed. But I don't full asleep straight away or at all as I'm normally up until about 1-2:00in the morning as I end up having more than one panic attack or a meltdown because I'm so overwhelmed or I will cry myself to sleep..

side note the reason I have an EHCP is because I have Adhd.

and as some of you may know 5days before Christmas I got the devastating news that my nan that live in Weymouth sadly passed away and it didn't hit me hard at first but it sertenly has now and I'm feeling so incredibly numb, depressed and lost. and I just can't amagen how I will get through this year and the coming day as we all find out when her funeral is going to be and how I will cope when I'm at her funeral or when I'm back at college.

I have two sisters, and being sandwiched in the middle always puts me in the role of mediator. My older sister, Emily, faced a devastating loss in late 2022 when her 6-month-old son passed away from SIDS. Since then, she's been living through a grieving process that's nowhere near complete. My younger sister, Claire, is currently expecting her first child, a boy, and she recently confided in me about her plans for his name. When we were chatting at her place, she revealed she intends to name her son after Emily’s departed child, thinking it would be a beautiful tribute.

Claire was convinced it would be seen as an honor, but I instantly felt uneasy about it, knowing Emily would likely be heartbroken by this decision. I expressed my concerns to Claire, detailing that Emily might find this gesture not comforting but rather painful. However, Claire disagreed, dismissing my input as an overreaction.

Despite her intentions to keep it a surprise, I felt compelled to inform Emily, believing the potential emotional toll it could take on her was far too severe. Predictably, Emily was furious upon hearing the news. She felt that using her son's name was insensitive and too fresh a wound to touch. She was appreciative that I gave her a heads-up, admitting how damaging it could have been had she discovered it at the birth.

The confrontation between Emily and Claire was unavoidable. With the whole family backing Emily, Claire felt isolated and later called me, upset, accusing me of causing a rift between her and Emily. She was adamant about sticking to her choice, despite Emily’s pleas. Claire argued that seeing her new nephew carry on the name would eventually be seen as positive by Emily. I, however, couldn't align with her perspective and blatantly called her out for her insensitivity. This family drama escalated to accusations of me being the root cause of their conflict.

If this entire ordeal had unfolded on a reality show, I imagine the reaction would be pretty explosive, dominated by shock and disapproval from viewers. The tension and emotional complexity would certainly make for gripping television, sparking debates about family respect and boundaries in times of grief.

Ever since I can remember, I have trouble catching people’s attention when I speak and when they do hear me, they look at me weirdly like they don’t know how to reply to me. This led me not to talk for almost my whole life because it feels embarrassing, which made my voice softer and cringey to hear. I really regretted it now that I’m working in a 9 to 5 job because my work requires me to speak and my co-workers would make fun of my voice. One even said they want to fight me to see the different version of my voice and would comment they hate it every time I talk.

It made me not to open my mouth ever again. I feel like a weirdo in display. But I also need to work because I’m not a kid anymore who can hide from her mother’s skirt.

Maybe I’m overreacting but I can’t help it.

Growing up as a Black girl,
you never know what the future holds.
You learn fast.
Too fast.
Drugs, alcohol, sex—
before I even knew my times tables,
I knew what the world was about.
The "birds and the bees" talk?
Didn’t need it.
By the time I was born,
I already had four older siblings.
The oldest? grown.
twenty four , twenty five—
a whole life ahead,
while mine was just beginning.
Seven years later—
I’m no longer the youngest.
Now I’m the oldest.
Fourteen years later—
I’m in the middle, but still the oldest.
A split family teaches you choices
you were never supposed to make.
My mother has feelings.
My father has feelings.
My stepmother has feelings.
But what about mine?
How do you think I felt
when I realized I was the crack in their foundation?
That my mother’s pregnancy
shattered my father and stepmother’s family?
That my father had four kids before I even existed?
That his arm carried their names in ink,
but when I asked to be added,
he told me no—because of the “pain.”
Pain?
You wanna talk about pain?
I was cheated on,
manipulated—over and over,
by the same person.
And I let them.
I was dumb.
I almost got into fights
over people I didn’t even want.
Because I was supposed to.
Because I was taught
that disrespect had to be answered.
I hit puberty early, 5th grade.
First time I got catcalled? Eleven.
Let that sink in—
Eleven.
At the store with my older sister,
a grown man called out to us.
She was in her 20s—
but he meant both of us.
My body grew before I was ready,
so men saw a woman where a child stood.
By middle school,
the world was dying from COVID,
but I was already grieving
the childhood I never had.
How many times have I been called beautiful
by someone who shouldn’t even be looking?
How many times have I been told—
"You can’t wear that."
Because my chest was bigger.
Because men were coming over.
Because my mother was afraid.
Not for them.
For me.
Now I’m a freshman,
but people think I’m older.
I’m used to it.
On some level, it’s a compliment—
on every other, it’s not.
It just means I never got time to be a kid.
So yeah—
when I do something that seems childish,
that’s little me fighting to exist.
When I scream over dumb things,
when I get excited like I’m five again—
that’s Nyana.
That’s the kid in me,
the one I refuse to let die.
And when they stare—
I stare back.
Because the version of me you see,
that’s the one you want to box,
the one you want to label.
But I’m so much more than the skin they see,
than the years they’ve added on me.
I'm the kid who never got to be a kid.
They want me to act my age?
What’s my age?
When I’m a reflection of everyone’s expectations
and not my own truth?
I never got the luxury of slowing down,
of making mistakes without the weight of judgment.
Never had the time to just be.
Just to be young.
Just to be free.
And how do you think I feel
growing up in a world
where men have “weird relationships”
with their girl “best friends”?
It’s just weird.
But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Not when my own father
once said he would "hit"
if his gave him a chance.
I saw my first "film" at seven—
not on purpose,
but because I wanted to be like every other kid.
Wanted to watch YouTube,
wanted to laugh at the same jokes,
wanted to feel like I belonged.
But the things I saw?
They weren’t for me.
Not for a seven-year-old
who still needed to feel safe in their own room.
I didn’t know what to do with what I saw.
Didn’t know how to unsee it.
But I learned,
fast.
Just like I learned in fourth grade
that sleepovers weren’t what they were on TV.
That not every mother is a mother first.
That sometimes, a mother wants to be a friend,
and when that happens,
you become the collateral damage.
She let her daughter do things no child should do,
and I was there,
forced into it,
too young to understand,
too scared to say no.
And when I got in trouble for it,
when I told my mother it wasn’t my fault,
guess who still got in trouble?
Guess who didn’t.

So yeah, when I laugh too loud,
when I hold on to the simple things—
that’s me reaching for the years they took.
I’m reclaiming what’s mine—
the innocence I was denied,
the joy I never got to wear.
And if that makes you uncomfortable,
I don’t care.
Because after all this time,
I owe it to myself to just be.
To be me.

My dad has been struggling through some mental health issues for a while and we have been doing our best to support him (my mother and my siblings ). However my younger sibling caught my dad cheating yesterday night as he was calling and texting with another lady. My parents have been married for around 30 years. I feel like throwing up. My dad isn’t a bad father, we always looked up to him because of his strong personality but none of us can even look at him now anymore. He keeps apologizing and keeps saying that he did it because of his mental health issues but what kind of an excuse is that? He broke all of our trust, we never expected this from him. How does one even cope with this? All we have been doing is crying and feeling numb the entire day. I feel so bad for my mom, we can’t even leave as we are financially dependent on him.

What a nice father’s day I guess.

So I’m in my final year of highschool before going to university and I haven’t been able to cope with exam stress or application stress well. Everytime I make an application I honestly need hours after just to calm my chest down since it starts feeling heavy again. I have tried to regain safety and have a routine that works keeping me calmer but honestly this throws off all that progress.

I don’t want to take pressure anymore like I genuinely feel like I want to stop trying and I don’t want to be achieving anything. I want an average university with lowkey academic pressure and peace. I found one far away from home which fits my needs but my parents won’t let me go that far. In fact they think I’m running away and taking the easier way out when I should be facing it since the world is a difficult place. While I agree I really need to be happy to commit. If I’m not I will deteriorate my mental health further and it’s already really bad. I don’t know how to manage it. It creeps up before exams genuinely in a way I can’t prepare properly. It remains in my chest and will not go away no matter how hard I try. It keeps coming back. It will show up in tinier things like my friend not responding to my messages or future issues I really don’t have to deal with at the moment. I barely made one application and deadlines are coming up I need to focus which I’m not able to do. It’s getting scarier and I cry everyday feeling like there’s no way I can get out of this when I can but at the time it feels like there is nothing else for me I truly loathe this feeling. It feels like the end everytime and I’m sick of venting to everyone with no way of receiving actual help. No one knows how to help. My parents try but they think I’m weak for even feeling this and I should just get over the drama.

My parents are really too in my business, yet not enough.

They are such hypocrites, saying this and doing another, thinking it doesn't apply to them because they're adults.

One time, I didn't want to wear the dress my mother chose for me for a party and she slapped me, grabbed my hair, pulled me and told me to pack my things and get out (I was 14).

Today, my father asked me to put my creme on (bcs of my eczema), I put the recommended amount (and the amount said in the instructions) on and told me to put some more even though it could give me rashes and itchiness all week. He started yelling at me for being too "stupid", even though the instructions were in French, the doctor who gave me the instructions spoke French and guess what? The frigging pharmacy who gave me recommendations spoke French. HE DOESNT SPEAK FRENCH. My mother sided with him, like the "good wife" she is. They expect "respect" yet they aren't decent human beings.

I have good grades at school, not to please, but to have a good future and run away from home the minute I get a steady income. (I'm 15 btw).

Where do I look? I don't know where to look. I confess that I have a hard time looking at myself much. I have so many things scattered throughout my life that I don't know. I confess, and I must be clear, that I've completely abandoned my life. It's true; I feel like I know nothing about myself, absolutely nothing. I don't know what conditions I live in. I feel like I'm constantly carrying all that weight. I have a hard time looking at myself. I feel like it's strange for me.

In principle, what does it mean to look at myself? I don't know. I haven't asked myself how I am for a while. I just follow a vague routine and that's it. I don't know about my life. I've never asked myself how I am with my relationships. I feel like I've neglected that because I don't nurture them; I think that's why I don't possess them, unless they really catch my attention. What is it like to look at yourself? How is everything structured? Where do I start? What does it mean to be with yourself?

I have a hard time looking inside myself because, even though I don't know, I don't know why there are so many things. I feel a sovereign distaste for such a depth. It bothers me that I can't tap into it immediately. What questions do I ask myself first? Am I good? Am I bad? Am I this or that? I have no reference to refer to myself. It's scarce. I've always been concerned with measuring myself through others, so that their comments, due to their very content, don't affect me, and that's precisely why I maintain a limiting dependence on them.

I feel like I've never reached myself. I have depth in my words, but I feel like I've never penetrated myself. I feel that, to begin with, it must be said, I'm disgusted by my life because I don't take care of my hygiene. I tend to be lazy with it because of the tiredness it causes me to go through the motions of maintaining it. I dislike it, but at the same time I like it because it allows me to live far from how I lived at home.

I feel like my life is precisely a radical escape from the life I had with my mother and father, especially during my upbringing. I had a very heavy life, and now I try to make it as light as possible, unfortunately, going to extremes, apparently. In fact, I don't even want to have clean clothes. I only live for the sake of no one noticing what's going on. Now that I think about it, the mere idea of ​​living with myself makes me hide.

Also, I feel like I wouldn't live with myself because I feel like I'd point out things about myself, highlight strange things that I don't want anyone else to see, including, apparently, me. I just let myself go and I'm not aware of what I'm doing. Deep down, I feel like I'm bathing in a deep sadness and I play with it. In a way, I feel like I'm overcoming it, challenging it, even though it's there. It's an attitude that wasn't allowed either.

I live to do what my system of rules, with which I was raised, breaks down completely. In fact, I feel like I'm still a teenager, I confess. I dislike it partly because I'm getting bored of being in constant conflict with it. I feel it's time to stop fighting that upbringing. I don't feel like it's doing me any good, and in fact, I feel like it's causing a lot of noise right now.

That is to say, I feel like I have a life, or I've reached a structure, with which I like and dislike. Again, on the terrain of rebellion. I feel like I don't know, I must say, what I really want with my life. I've reached a deep stagnation. When will I get out? I don't know, in principle, what my tastes are. I feel like I haven't fully emerged.

Nothing has come out of that struggle with my belief system yet. It used to be that it brought me tremendous benefit, however, I've reached a point where it's no longer necessary. In fact, in the environments I frequent, it's no longer necessary; rather, it's superfluous. It's become dispensable. I need to know what can emerge from this struggle, a dialectic, as they would say in philosophy.

I've reached the point of reflecting on: Who am I? I swore I had that answer a long time ago, however, I've only explored what I had to say about the things I experience, which has given me the ability to be at this point where I ask myself that question: Who am I? What do I do in this world? What purpose can I serve society? Why do I exist? Why do I spend time with the people I spend time with? Why am I alone and not accompanied? Would I be better off being accompanied than alone? Why is it worth continuing to live? I feel like I have so many questions to answer; I'd never asked myself them, and during my upbringing, they were truly unthinkable.

The one that stands out most to me now is: Why don't I pursue what I love? Right now, I see myself in the worst voices, but they come from voices that aren't mine, but rather my parents', so they aren't guiding. Why do I do what I do? I feel that, essentially, I don't have a reason for what I do, something that gives it meaning. I feel like I live without knowing why I act, what drives me, and I confess, I'm totally unaware of that. I see myself acting, simply, based on maintaining the organic relationship between things without actually going anywhere beyond that.

I think the question that plagues me right now is, and I think it encompasses everything: Where do I have to go? What is that place? What do I have to follow? I find myself without that reference. Why have I allowed myself to go so long without that reference? I don't understand. How have I been able to live without one? Now the question is: Is it a reference? Or is it admitting that no such reference exists? Personally, I think the most important thing is to unburden this area, which, in effect, I think we can talk about as an existential crisis.

I used to think hard work and performance actually meant something, but now? I give up. Every day at my job, it’s less about who does the best work and more about who checks the right boxes. It’s gotten to the point where I feel like I’m just showing up, doing my best, and watching people get ahead for reasons that have nothing to do with skill or effort. At first, I tried to ignore it. I thought, Okay, just focus on your own progress, keep your head down, and things will even out. But they don’t. Instead of real career development, all we get is more “woke” initiatives, endless diversity trainings, and company-wide emails patting themselves on the back for promoting people based on identity instead of talent. Don’t get me wrong—I believe in fairness, equal chances, all that. But that’s not what this is. It’s not about fairness; it’s about looking good on paper. I’ve watched coworkers bust their ass for years, only to get passed over for someone less experienced because “we need more representation in leadership.” It’s like performance doesn’t matter anymore—just optics. And it’s exhausting pretending it doesn’t get to me.

I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, but lately, I’m asking myself why? If the promotions, raises, and recognition are going to people based on factors completely outside of their work, then what’s the point? Every meeting feels like another round of performative nonsense. We can’t even talk about improving sales or efficiency without someone throwing in a forced social angle, as if productivity is suddenly a dirty word. And don’t even get me started on the “optional” events that aren’t really optional—if you don’t attend the latest DEI seminar or pride workshop, you’re suddenly not a “team player.” Meanwhile, the actual job we’re here to do keeps getting harder, expectations keep rising, and the only thing that isn’t improving is the people actually running things. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this new version of the workplace, but at this point, I don’t care anymore. I’ve seen what gets rewarded and what doesn’t, and it’s clear that playing fair isn’t the way to win. So yeah—I give up. Not because I can’t keep up, but because I’m tired of pretending this system makes any sense.

You know, today has genuinely felt unreal. From waking up in the morning scrolling constantly without a signle muscle to pull me out until 10, to searching for job applications in hopes of eating away at my time in other ways, I felt like I have been aimlessly floating in this world without a single care. I currently have a girlfriend, and think about what could've been with my ex no mattter how much time passes. I feel like i'm going crazy, and I feel so dead. I don't know where to aim myself, and constantly strive to look for ways to become a better person, but the same feeling still exists deep inside of me. I also want to share that, me and my ex talked for months, and I felt like the way things ended were so quick that I was unable to gain closure, and no matter what I do, every girl for the rest of my life will be a rebound. does anyone know ways of being constantly productive. I want to live a life I can look back on, and smile at.

There's a guy I have met in dating app with him I wanna have romantic feelings with him but he has friendly feelings n said he wants to friends and slowly develop into something but idk how long will it take. He said his past was not good because of hurry relationship n stuff.

When he was online in app I was really jealous but he told it was because he saw old friend n chatted in his hometown.

Then he compared his friend with me I was devastated.

I told him i will move on clearly but in reality idk what to do.

my sister (nickname Lily) grew up perfectly- perfect hair, perfect friends, perfect grades. I'm the youngest and my life is anything but perfect. My friends are dodgy, I'm awkward and literally no one at school likes me properly. She just got in to one of the most prestigious universities and i feel like if i don't do something like that i'll just be a dissapointment.

I'm 15 and I'm feeling suicidal, the only reason I don't do it is because the few friends I have would be left traumatized and I don't want them to feel like shit because of me.

I hate my life, it's not bad per se, we're not poor but there's always something making me feel worse.

My dad gets angry at me for the littlest things and he's never helpful, he can't help in homework, doesn't do anything around the house other than cook. He gets angry like hell even only if I Huff around him that he'd say he'll slap me (he never did but it's still scary), my mom helps but she's overwhelmed, she's got work and me and my brother and then my dad because he cannot even do something that takes too much effort. I'm basically refraining myself from sharing opinions, saying what I really like or think or show anger when I get angry around him because anything could become a reason for me to get him angry.

He doesn't even fake to appreciate me, I get a good grade, well I was supposed to, there's no reason for me to even get a compliment, I get a bad grade and he shoves it in my face like it's fun that I did bad.

He's probably racist and homophobic, Ill never ever tell him my sexuality, and he keeps joking about me not being able to get a boyfriend otherwise he'll beat him up.

I cannot dress how I want, I'm not talking about miniskirts partying all night, I'm talking about not being able to wear simple alt clothing because he doesn't like it (he gets angry because of a choker, that doesn't even have weird shapes on it like satanist or something like that, it's just a heart in the middle).

I don't know what to do, I don't wanna keep going all this, all this shit just makes me worse and it feeds other insecurities I have and I don't know if there's a way to fix this. I don't want to ask them about getting a professional I can talk to because that way then I'd have to explain to them why I need it.

My thoughts are all over the place and disorganized, so there's no way any of this is gonna be orderly and well thought out, I'm just going to throw my mind at the keyboard and send what comes out.

I'm terribly depressed, I always have been, there's been times where I'm at my lowest and I end up in a hospital, then there'll be times when things get better and I start to feel happy, but as life goes on I start to care about the good parts less and less and the bad parts become more and more unbearable.

I'm in one of those low parts now, and I just don't think I care enough to dig myself out again. The best part is that it's literally all my fault! I used to blame everything around me for all my sorrow and suffering, but I'm starting to realize that I'm the source of... All my own problems! My mother was a psychotic and abusive piece of dirt, and the rest of my family wasn't much better, I used to blame that for my depression. Money has always been a big issue, and I used to blame that. Every single friend I ever make ends up hating me and hurting me, before never talking to me again, I used to think that somehow, that wasn't my fault!

I have no friends now, I'm 21 and I've never had a girlfriend, I actually met a girl I really liked not too long ago and pretty much immediately, I found myself straight up telling her to block me because I'm a friggin psycho! So of course she did the smart thing and, ya know, did. I have coworkers and random people I know a little bit telling me I'm a great person, I'm cute, I'm funny, I'm great to be around, but I can tell that every time I do anything I mess it up. Any time I meet anyone, I make it worse. It's becoming so hard to care. I know I'm the problem, and there are so many things I could do to turn my life around, I have so many options! I really don't even have that bad of a life, it wouldn't be that difficult to turn everything around if I really tried, but I just can't find the energy to try! I know if I died, it would hurt some people, I have a brother, I have nieces and nephews, they would be sad, but I find that I can't even make myself care about their feelings any more either!

I could've been way more specific and detailed with some things, but that's the general idea, I push everybody away, I hate myself more than I hate anything else and refuse to let people close, I know for a fact I deserve to die, but every time I attempt to, I give up at the last second like the coward I am. If anyone reads this, they're probably going to give me advice, and tell me how I can try to make things better, but I don't even know why I'm making this at this point, because I know I'll disregard any actual friggin advice that I get!

So I'm just going to suffer, and I'm gonna keep putting on a happy little mask for everyone else, and I'm going to keep feeling alone and closed off, and I'm gonna keep up the pathetic victim mentality, and I'm gonna keep letting my life fall apart more and more, until there's nothing left of me! Because that's the only way I know how to live! Nobody can help, no therapy can help, no drugs can help, no amount of money and security can help, I'm the only one that can make me happy and I refuse to do so, because screw me I guess! I'm not allowed to be happy! Have a good day!

My relationship journey began beautifully about two years ago when my partner and I entered into a committed relationship. Things between us clicked almost instantly, setting a tone of seamless harmony and bliss. At times, I even doubted my own worthiness of such a perfect match. However, as months turned into years and we decided to share a living space, the initial euphoria gradually gave way to frequent arguments.

Our disagreements started small, almost insignificant, but as time passed, they morphed into persistent bouts of bickering over mundane issues. It felt as though we were caught in a relentless cycle of conflict, followed by brief reconciliations. Although we were careful not to escalate things too severely, the past six months have seen a noticeable increase in the intensity and frequency of our disputes. Our relationship now seems to harbor more tension than affection, with sarcastic jabs and reactive outbursts becoming all too common. The situation has become exhausting, with our status alternating between being in a relationship and taking breaks.

In moments of frustration, I've often turned to my family and friends to vent. I'd share the specifics of our latest altercation and seek their perspectives. However, this habit took a turn for the worse when my partner overheard one of these conversations and was deeply hurt. He felt misrepresented as the villain in our partnership. This has led me to question the dynamics of seeking external advice. Is it wrong to discuss our private conflicts with others?

Imagine if our private squabbles were broadcasted on a reality show, with each dramatic moment scrutinized under the public eye. How would viewers react to such revelations? Would the external judgment and the pressure of audience opinions exacerbate our issues, or could it possibly lead to a swift resolution encouraged by the collective wisdom of the masses?