Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

It’s been 2 weeks since classes started and I’ve just been bombarded with activities, tests, more tests, group activities, quizzes and even more quizzes!

Im so overwhelmed, like wdym i need to manage 8 groups in 8 subjects? I don’t wanna have that responsibility.

Home is supposed to be the rest place right? FUCK NO. At home im asked to do chores, tasks and manage 5 animals?? ARENT THOSE YOUR PETS?? Why did they suddenly become mine?

“You barely do anything at home!” DAWG?? IM TOO OVERWHELMED TO DO ANYTHING. I NEED TO SCHEDULE WHAT SUBJECTS TO DO FIRST BECAUSE OF THIS DAMN CURRICULUM.

I HOPE that I’ll eventually get used to this fuckass schedule because im so close to genuinely jumping

Anyways! Byes 😛

It’s not even like I woke up one morning and thought that... but yeah, I don't really know who I am anymore right now... It was a slow, agonizing realization, one that gnawed at the edges of my mind every damn day, like a relentless parasite. I’ve given up so much of myself for this relationship. My personality, my interests, my humor, my own fucking preferences. I remember how I used to laugh at stupid things, how I loved blasting heavy metal in the car and feeling the bass rumble through my chest. Now, I sit there in silence, pretending to enjoy his godawful indie playlists because, apparently, that's what "we" do. Do you see the irony? I don’t even know who I am because I’ve been eroded, worn down like some fucking rock in a stream. One little compromise at a time, I traded myself for this empty façade of “us.” But what about me?

I don’t even recognize my face in the mirror anymore. I used to wear bold makeup, vivid colors that made me feel fierce and powerful. Now, it’s all muted tones, subtle pinks, and nudes. Why? Because he said it was more “natural.” Natural? Who gives a shit? I used to stand up for myself, used to call people out on their bullshit, but now I find myself swallowing my anger like it’s some bitter pill I have to take just to keep the peace. I hate myself for it. I hate that I’ve become this quiet, compliant version of myself, a woman I’d probably roll my eyes at if I met her. And the worst part? He probably thinks I’m “happy” like this. Well, fuck that. I’m not happy. I’m trapped in a persona I created to survive this relationship, and I’m suffocating in it. How the hell did I get here?

I tried to claw my way back to who I was. I picked up my guitar again, the one I used to play every day before this relationship turned my world into a grayscale. But the strings felt foreign under my fingers. I couldn’t even remember the chords to my favorite song. It was like trying to speak a language I used to be fluent in but had completely forgotten. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is? To lose not just your interests but the muscle memory of who you used to be? It’s like my brain was reprogrammed, overwritten by his preferences, his needs, his fucking whims. And the scary thing is, I let it happen. Bit by bit, I chipped away at myself until there was nothing left but a hollow echo of the woman I used to be. And he didn’t even notice, or worse, he noticed and liked it.

Sometimes, I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck I’m doing. Who am I? Am I even a person anymore, or just some prop in his perfectly curated life? I fantasize about walking out the door, slamming it behind me, and reclaiming my fucking soul. But then I think about the logistics—where would I go, what would I do, how would I even start over? I feel like a ghost, haunting a life I never agreed to live, and I don’t know how to escape. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t even want advice. I just want to scream into the void: I don’t know who I am anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if I scream loud enough, the real me might hear it and claw her way back. Or maybe she’s already gone. Who knows? 🖕

This is not for minors I dunno don't read if you can't, be safe. This is going to be about sexual stuff. This is going to include topics like SA! and other disturbing shit. I don't know if the story really fits the category but i couldn't find a better one. It's going to be long, so yall can skip it I don't mind. This also may be nonsensical because i cant write.

So starting off I'm very, very messed up. Im scared to talk about this even to a therapist and I will understand if you tell me im disgusting and horrible. Heres me trying to explain how I got to this point.

The first time i heard about sex was when i was in kindergarten. I don't remember much but I remember one of my friends walked in on her parents and was telling us about it. I was very confused about what was happening because I'd never heard of it. I don't think i was even given the warning to tell my parents if someone touched me. But that doesn't really matter.

So fast forward like a few years i was at the end of kindergarten like the late years. I hadn't started school yet. My mom during summer would leave me and my sister's at my grandma's for a week and our cousins would come and visit us. My cousin was only a year older than me and I would play with dolls with her. Only the games would be really messed up. She would act out scenarios where the guy was like 20-30 years old and the girl was like 12- 18 at most. In short the stories would normally go like this. The guy kidnaps her, locks her up, r@pes her multiple times and she falls in love with him. Of course at that age i didn't know how messed up it was i didn't even know what was sex and when I asked she gave me a very fuxked up explanation. We were both kids. I was scared my mom would be mad if I told her what we played so I never did.

Now again skipping a few years I'm in school. The boys in my class are even in 1st grade finding porn sites and other shit like that. I still was mostly confused and didn't interact with any of it. Until one day when i was like 12 or 11 or something. My friend invited me over to her house. And she told me: I will show you something but you can't tell anyone. She shows me corn sites... And not even the normal ones like hardcore bdsm shit. And of course like the little stupid kid I was like I got hooked. I have ADHD that might be part of it. At that time I freshly got my first phone that had internet. I immediately got hooked. But my mom caught me. And then we had a sit down talk about what is sex and how it actually works.

And that might've worked if i already wasn't so messed up. I was still watching but i got better at hiding it.

A little while later I joined a fandom. It was fine and cool but the fandom had really gross shipping culture and I stumbled upon it and again got way too into it. First i just found fan content on tik tok. Then it was Fanart then Wattpad and then finally the beast AO3. Even though until this point I had already been seeing some weird shit. AO3 was the thing that took it off the rail. The sorting system on the site is pretty hard for beginners and I started to read some very disturbing and disgusting stuff. I think I got addicted both to mastu*bating and to corn.

And here i am now.

I'm addicted to the shit. I hate myself. Whatever you think I've read I can assure you I've read worse. The thing is I don't normally consume that shit. I feel disgusted when i see it. But when I'm excited it's like my brain turns off and i am ready to see the most disgusting stuff and every time I need something more. And after post nut clarity hits i want to kill myself. And like you may say bdsm thats a normal kink DW. But its not. The shit I read contains noncon sometimes gore and even worse stuff. I'm not actually attracted to any of it. At least I hope so.

Okay that's it. I understand if no-one reads this. And I completely understand that if you do you call me disgusting. I am. I know. I wish it was different. I wish I could just wipe my mind clean. But i cant.

Okay bye have nice day if you read this and even if you didn't.

Yours truly, Most fucked up girl in the world.

Okay, so here's the deal: it's been a real mess at home lately. My parents have been at each other's throats non-stop for the past three months. You know how it is. Like, my dad lost his job and it's been tough on all of us. But he’s started drinking a lot, and that's set the whole mood on fire with constant arguing. I’m 17, and honestly, I’d much rather be doing anything else than playing referee in World War III every evening. It’s exhausting, man! Sometimes I wonder if I should just lock myself in my room and play loud music, but that doesn’t really solve anything, does it?

Being 17 in this family circus means I’m stuck in between – too young to really leave, but old enough to get what's happening around me. When they're in their shouting match mode, I try to disappear. I'll hide out in my room or take a long shower. But then, there's times when I feel like I have to step in and play the peacekeeper, which just sucks. I miss the times when things were normal, or at least more chill, before all this job loss and booze-induced madness. It’s like walking on eggshells, and you never know when one’s gonna crack and set everything off again. It’s frustrating as hell. Honestly, sometimes I question why I even bother when they're both acting like children.

I guess I'm trying to figure out the best way to navigate all of this. It's not like there's a manual for surviving parents in a never-ending argument. I've tried distracting myself with my friends and school stuff, but it only lasts so long. So, I've started journaling, which helps me untangle some of the emotional knots. I get to pour it all out on paper – anger, sadness, confusion, you name it. It gives me a sense of relief and a chance to see things clearly. Plus, finding some calm in this chaos lets me think of ways to help, but you can only do so much before you have to protect your own sanity. I still hang onto hope that they’ll figure it out; maybe this is just a bump in the road, not the end of the line. Got to stay positive, right?

I’m not a therapist, but sometimes I feel like one. It’s rough when you’re the kid turning into the adult because the grown-ups aren’t able to hold their own. Honestly, if anyone reading this has been through the same, what did you do? In those moments when it's too much to handle, I remind myself that it’s not my responsibility to fix everything. Sometimes, people just need time and space to work through their chaos. But still, it’d be nice to come home to a couple of smiles than another round of screaming. I guess I’ll keep hoping for peace, writing my way through the mess, and grabbing any slice of normality I can find. It can’t be this crazy forever, right? 🤞

my mom has paranoid delusions and when I was 9 years old she accused my dad of dealing and using drugs out of the blue and filed for divorce. a few years before that she had pulled me out of school to homeschool me because she said that my school was allowing a pedophile/child abuse ring to happen behind the scenes. during this time i would be home all day and when my dad got home from work she would scream at him for hours and accuse him of many things including but not limited to: being gay, having an std, cheating on her with women at Walmart, putting meth/heroin into his eyes with funnels/eye droppers, etc. i would just sit in my room and listen while i played minecraft or like talking angela or something

she also wouldn't let me be in a room alone with my dad, no matter what she had to be standing outside watching. one time my dad came into my room to comfort me and she started banging on the door to be let inside. this is because she got molested as a kid and somehow thought that if she wasn't around me constantly i would get molested too. i had a bunk bed that she insisted on sleeping on the bottom bunk of so we were never separate. i remember one night after my dad got home from work he came into my room to give me a hug and just started sobbing. i had never heard my dad cry before that.

sometimes she would put on a high voice and act like her 'inner child' was coming out. she had told me multiple times that she felt like she was a 7 year old in a grown woman's body. she had a binge/purge eating disorder and would take me out on walks that i wasn't allowed to say no to because if i did i was abandoning her and not letting her exercise. i was almost never away from her, i couldn't leave if i wanted to because i wasn't in public school. she convinced me that the police had put camera s in our house as well as everyone in our neighbourhood's house to monitor us and see if we were pedophiles or not. i wasn't stupid and knew something was off but if i expressed this in any way she would get mad at me and tell me that the fumes from my dad's drugs were affecting my brain function. if i ever got mad, forgot something, cried, it was because our house was contaminated with drugs and my head wasn't right.

side note, one time she left the sliding back door open to 'let the police in so they could take the cameras out'. she had a really weird relationship with the cops and would call them very frequently and developed a one-sided intimate relationship (all her) with the local chief of police and would send him affectionate letters. she gave him nicknames. i have no idea

i remember one night she freaked out for some reason. she started frantically searching the house for something to hang herself with and then decided that she was going to take me in the car to go for a drive. my dad was home and didn't want to let her do that because a few nights earlier she had told him that she wanted to kill me and then herself so he tried to call the police. she took his phone and bit his arm hard enough to leave a dark reddish-purple bruise when he tried to get it back. she ended up getting me out of the house and into the car and we had driven just out of town when we got pulled over by the cops. they asked her if she needed help, she said no. we had to go back to my house so the police could question my dad and they ended up bringing in drug-sniffing dogs that found nothing. the cops ended up letting her take me in the car anyway and we just drove around aimlessly for hours and hours

this is skipping over a lot of stuff but all of that really messed me up i think. i started self-harming when i was 10 years old and would only shower once a week. my hair got so knotted from me not brushing it that it turned into a hard ball and the only way to salvage it was to cut all of it off

tldr: whining about bad childhood

thx 4 reading kthxbye

I am 38, male, and this is just a report, not a poem, not a cry, not a lesson, just a dump like on /vent because that is what this site is for. I wake up, I go to work, I fail quietly, I come back, I eat trash, I sleep, repeat, that is the system. I never had a girlfriend, not once, not even the fake high school one people lie about to seem normal. Women never looked at me like a person, more like furniture or a problem to avoid, and yeah I know you will say “it’s your personality” or “work on yourself” because that is the standard script, quoted endlessly like a broken motivational poster. I am not saying I deserve love, I am saying the data shows I never had it, and after 38 years the trend line is pretty clear. No close friends either, no one texting me first, no one asking how I am unless it is HR pretending to care. At work I suck, not in a dramatic way, just enough to always be behind, always be the guy who “tries” but never advances, and you know what happens to guys like that. People say life is about “small joys” and “gratitude” but that sounds like marketing language invented to sell books to losers like me. Objectively speaking, if you remove romance, social validation, and competence, what is left that makes this worth repeating every day.

I am not writing this to shock you, I am writing it because I am tired of pretending this is some deep mystery. Men like me are told to shut up and improve or die quietly, and women are framed as prizes we failed to unlock, which makes everyone worse. I can be rude about it because honesty is rude now. When you go decades without touch, without being chosen, without even being hated passionately, it does something boring to your brain, not tragic, just empty. People quote Nietzsche or Camus about meaning, like “one must imagine Sisyphus happy”, but Sisyphus at least had a story and an audience. I have a cubicle and a login. Therapy is another quote machine, more phrases like “reframe your narrative” and “challenge your assumptions”, as if this is a creative writing class and not a statistical dead end. Women don’t owe me anything, fine, but reality doesn’t owe me hope either, so why is hope mandatory. This is the part where someone says “it gets better” with zero evidence, or links a study, or tells me to lift weights, as if muscle mass fixes being invisible. I am not angry all the time, I am tired, which is different and more permanent; do you really think repeating an unwinnable routine counts as living.

Here is the clean version, stripped of drama and insults, like a lab note. Subject is 38, male, isolated, underperforming, unloved, future probability of change low based on past behavior. External incentives minimal. Internal motivation degraded. That is it. I am not standing on a bridge, I am sitting at a desk typing because typing fills time. People confuse questioning life with wanting to die, but those are not identical, one is philosophical and one is logistical. I can ask “what is the point of living” the same way someone asks “what is the point of this job” without planning to quit today. Still, if you are reading this, answer honestly, not kindly, not with slogans. If you had my stats, my face, my history, my absence of proof that effort pays off, would you continue out of principle alone. Or is life just something we keep doing because stopping would make other people uncomfortable. I read quotes, I read threads, I read success stories, and they all assume a baseline I never had. Maybe the point is just to run the clock until it ends, maybe there is no point and we are supposed to admit that, maybe meaning is a luxury item. I don’t know, and I am not asking for rescue, I am asking for accuracy. If the answer is “there is no point but you do it anyway”, say that. If the answer is “there is a point and you missed it”, say that too. I am detached enough to hear it.

Hi guys,

I'm really into board games, especially Dungeons & Dragons, which my friends and I play every week at my place. We've transformed these gatherings into quite the spectacle over the past five years, complete with costumes, atmospheric lighting, and evocative background music. We truly immerse ourselves in the fantasy world.

Recently, a retired couple in their 60s became my next-door neighbors. They seem nice but are a bit on the traditional side. I’ve noticed them giving me strange stares and steering clear of me, which seemed unusual initially. Then, I concluded they probably weren't too keen on mingling.

However, things took an interesting turn last Saturday. Right as we were peaking in our game intensity, with my buddy Jake delivering a dramatic speech as our nemesis, and me brandishing a prop sword in my rogue's cloak, disruption came knocking—literally. Answering the door in full regalia, I found my new neighbors, expressions etched with concern. It was almost comical as the wife hastily inquired if "everything was okay," referencing the frequent visits, the mystical chants, and our peculiar costumes.

Caught off guard, I jokingly replied, "We’re just summoning demons, no big deal!" I chuckled after the comment, but the joke totally fell flat. They exchanged shocked looks, mumbled about their devout Christianity, and retreated.

The next day added a layer to the misunderstanding; tucked under my door was a “cult deprogramming” brochure coupled with a note suggesting I meet their pastor to "save my soul." My friends found the entire episode amusing, even proposing that we amplify the antics by roaming around in robes and enchanting exaggerated spells in the corridor. Part of me wants to play along, but I'm also slightly concerned about genuinely unnerving them.

If this whole mix-up unfolded on a reality show, I imagine the drama and misunderstanding could reach humorous heights. Cameras would zoom in on the horrified expressions of my neighbors and capture every mischievous grin of mine. The reveal episode, where the truth comes out, could even end up being heartwarming or hilariously absurd as both parties come to understand each other's worlds.

Am I a jerk for unintentionally leading my neighbors to think they’re living beside a cult leader? Should I straighten out this mess, or just let them think what they will? 😁

Like seriously how those this app work? Are the replies bots are actually people but how IS IT SO FAST???

Recently, I've realized that when something goes wrong or I make a mistake, I get so frustrated that I make the situation even worse—worse than anyone can imagine. In that moment, I'm uncontrollably passionate in my rage to make it worse, without thinking of the consequences.

​I know this is a devastating fact, but right now, I don't know what to do. I'm in a full-blown rage at myself because of a mistake I made. I'm consumed by how I could have made that mistake. I want to punish myself terribly. I'm burning with anger at myself, wondering how in the world I could have made such a mistake

i had a bf, i genuinely loved him more than anything in this world, i was ready to do everything and anything for him. i was very serious about him so i thought ok let me do it with him, i was happy at first, but later things changed..

the first time we did it idk it was so lusty but i ignored it. and then as time went he used to become distant and barely texted me, and if we ever met it was only making out and sex, and particularly cuz he kept begging for it. i was very stupid enough to agree to everything although he treats me like im his fwb. he used to beg me for blowjob and sex and he'd keep asking until i say yes, one day i slapped him cuz he was forcing me to do it, he faked his tears so hard BYE WTF. but ukw i still had to console him and let him cry on my shoulders for what he did, i felt so shit, what had i gotten myself into in the name of love. and once again we met, had sex, midway i started crying, i had never weeped so loud infront of a man or anyone at all, i cried and i asked "why dont you love me anymore" he said no i do love you and tried to brush it off, his words never matched his actions, he was cold and distant, used to meet his ex behind my back.

once we had broken up, that time i had flirted with a dude and after few days my bf and i started talking again cuz we thought of getting back and thought we could fix the problem. i came clean and told him bout flirting with someone. he told me tht he never expected this whore behaviour from me, and my periods had been late that month too, he told me he didnt care if i was pregnant and wanted to block me completely. i was scared, but after few months i found out that he had A WHOLE RELATIONSHIP going on right after we had broken up for sometime. he was so egoistic to do tht to me.

things got messier, i kept letting him in me and idk i really was stupid, and then i broke up cuz i couldnt stand it anymore. he used to blackmail me and say shit like i tried to cut myself i hung myself and bs like tht, he didnt let me live in peace, so i told his mom. he texted me with so much anger and said "just cuz you are on your luteal doesnt mean you act up bitch", i was so. i just yea damn.

after i broke up i went thru depression, i realised all this time he was just using me for my body, i genuinely became suicidal and couldnt take it anymore. someone i trusted wanted me only for my body, and still had his eyes wandering even after i gave him everything.

i somehow came out of it and two months passed by.

we started talking again. the worst decision i made. we tried to date again and we stayed for few days we tried to fix everything but nothing worked, i was very insecure and had trust issues, as time went i logged on to his insta acc, i saw so many women. so many fucking women that i just i couldnt, he had called me a bop to everyone in those two months when we werent together and he had done so much. when i confronted him about it he said "my friend did everything". his own friend didnt accept on doing it. it was very evident tht he was lying. the level of pain i had gone thru was so bad but i put myself thru it on my own. right after i broke up and he had tried to message me everywhere and one of the msgs read "go have sex with another guy and get pregnant, if you ever want abortion money just text my friend and ill send it to you" and i had no words, ive lost my v card only with him.

next day after breaking up he went and met another girl and few days later hooked up with his ex. but yea sure im the whore according to him

idk but him using me for my body was the worst trauma ever. its been months and im still not over it

it’s been three months since she told me it was over, and I honestly thought I would be better by now. you know, like the typical advice you see everywhere? “time heals all wounds” and “you’ll find someone better”? I guess I've just come to terms with the fact that those phrases are easier said than lived. every day feels like I’m dragging a heavy anchor, and my mind constantly races back to the moments we shared. I can still picture her laughter, her smile, and the way she used to play with her hair while deep in thought. I often wonder if that’s just how life goes, one minute you're on top of the world and the next you’re stuck reminiscing about how things used to be. I’ve tried to distract myself with friends or hobbies, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall that keeps me from truly engaging; some people say that it’s all about perspective while others might argue it's more about acceptance, but I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, caught in a labyrinth of my own emotions.

as I navigate through this post-breakup haze, I’ve read a lot about the psychological phenomena related to breakups—terms like the ‘attachment theory’ and ‘emotional dependency’ come to mind. they make sense in a clinical way, but experiencing them firsthand is a different beast altogether. I mean, how does someone just move on as if nothing happened? it’s as though they possess an emotional GPS that guides them toward greener pastures while I'm still in this perpetual state of searching for a signal. some days, my phone buzzes with messages from friends suggesting new activities or meetups, but I find myself declining more often than not—it's like I'm afraid that any bit of joy I could feel would pale in comparison to the happiness we once had, which is a weird kind of self-sabotage. I often find myself analyzing my past interactions, wondering if it was something I said or did that spiraled us into this situation—was I too clingy, too distant, or did I just not pick up on the subtle signs of her impending discontent?

I’m here questioning the timeline of recovery for breakups, and how long does it actually take to get over someone? I wish I had a definitive answer rather than these endless Google searches leading nowhere. some say it takes the same time as the relationship lasted, while others suggest that it’s all individual; but I have to admit, still feeling heartache after three months feels like I’m lagging behind in a race where everyone else has already crossed the finish line. there are moments I catch myself daydreaming about what could have been, or I find myself scrolling through old pictures of us smiling, but instead of fueling healing, they only deepen my sorrow. maybe I’m just a romantic at heart or maybe I’ve built an idealized version of what we had, but the reality is, I'm struggling. I’ve learned that time does play a critical role in healing, yet it’s also about self-acceptance and allowing yourself to feel all the emotions that come with loss. sometimes I find solace in journaling my thoughts, like I'm laying the baggage down little by little. any tips on how to let go would be appreciated; even a friendly reminder to keep pushing forward would go a long way. 🥺

lately, I find myself crying way more than I should. it's not like there's a specific trigger all the time, but sometimes it just creeps up on me, you know? I'm 27, and it feels like everything is just off track. There's this expectation by now to have it somewhat figured out. Maybe not the entire map, but at least a decent compass. But here I am, lacking a stable relationship, which feels more pressing because I have this deep-seated desire to have kids. It's like a yearning that's there, no matter how hard I try to suppress it. The biological clock is a very real thing, or at least it feels like one. Is that a silly thing to worry about?

my family doesn't seem to get it. They've always had this traditional view of what "success" looks like, and somehow, I've never quite fit the mold. An engineer would have made them proud, but here I am, a woman with creative aspirations that seem to always land me in unstable jobs. Every time I start a job, my anxiety peaks, worrying about whether this one's a keeper or just another gig I'd be dropping soon. Sometimes, I feel like I'm letting them down, which adds another layer to this emotional rollercoaster I'm on. Do you ever feel trapped in other people's expectations?

it's terrifying watching the advancement of AI technologies. There's so much talk about AI reshaping industries, automating jobs, and streamlining processes. While it all sounds incredible, it leaves people like me worried about our place in the workforce. I've read articles about how AI might replace a lot of professional roles, and while this innovation sounds great theoretically, in reality, it feels like a looming shadow. I want a fulfilling office job, one where I feel challenged and valued, but what if AI makes me irrelevant? Is it just fear-mongering, or is this something others are worried about too?

i've also tried talking to friends about it, some empathize, and others give me the same old spiel – that I'm overthinking. There's this quote I've come across multiple times that says something about how crying is an emotional release from the soul. I wish understanding that made it easier to handle. But, honestly, sometimes these tears is more about frustration and uncertainty than any soulful release. Like even though I'm not physically in danger, my emotions are on high alert most times, and letting them out just becomes a way to cope. Is it normal to feel this way in your late twenties?

with everything being as it is, I sometimes wonder if crying is me just having my own coping mechanism, whether it's due to my unsettled expectations or anxiety about the future. It's just that crying doesn't always leave one feeling better; oftentimes, it just makes the sadness more profound once the tears have stopped. Sharing this feels like standing on a virtual street with a cardboard sign screaming for someone to understand. yet, there’s a comfort in anonymity and the hope that maybe someone will nod along, having felt the same weight at some point. Have you ever cried for reasons which seemed unexplainable once you tried to express them? 🤔

I feel really just numb today. I keep forcing a smile onto my face because it's my birthday, but whenever I'm alone I zone out completely and allow myself to feel nothing. This morning was really difficult. I almost missed the bus because I couldn't find a reason to get out of bed. But hey, I didn't miss the bus. Now I'm here at school, being ignored by people I now see to be my ex-friends. So why did I get out of bed this morning? I have no idea. I'm in band class as I type this, supposed to be practicing for Solo and Ensemble but listening to Paralysed by NF on loop while playing BitLife and ignoring the fact that my two ex-friends are sitting so close and not even glancing in my direction. Nobody at school knows today's my birthday except for Angel, my bestie. So woo-hoo, happy birthday to me I guess. Angel made a little birthday song for me: "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, let the gayness run through you, happy birthday to you" and yeah, when she sang it, I forced a laugh and a smile, but I didn't really feel much. I just thought, "Perhaps that was meant to be funny. Guess I'll laugh now." so yeah. Guess depression got the best of me or something. I dunno.

I hurt my friends seriously and now they likely can’t stand me. They still follow me on Instagram and are friends with me on discord, not to mention reply to my messages on Instagram but it’s sparingly.

I will be frank, I have serious attachment issues that reared their ugly head. I had introduced them and was jealous they got close and lashed out on them unfairly. I honestly didn’t know about these issues but after doing introspection I figured that out.

We were in a writing community that the three of us ran, I created it, on discord. I took a hiatus saying I’d be back in January but every night I am anxious and can’t sleep. I am irritable, jealous, depressed, and on the verge of tears everyday. I don’t vent to them like I used to, and I don’t talk about my full pains bc I feel like they’ll think I’m judging them. But idk what to do.

I feel like they hate me and would be better off without me. And I love and cherish them so much I am constantly beating myself up.

i dont get it. like fr why everyone in my family gotta be so mean to me all the time?? i aint even do nothin and still they act like im the worst person in the house. my mom always yellin, my dad dont even look at me half the time, and my brother’s just rude for no reason. i wake up and its already attitude from the second i walk in the kitchen. like, if i ask for something simple like if theres any cereal left, my mom's like “go look yourself” with that tone like she already mad at me for just breathing. why they always act like im the problm?? i swear i try to stay outta the way, i stay in my room most days just chillin or listenin to music but still when i come out its like instant drama.

i be helpin around the house too. i clean my room, i do the dishes even when its not my turn, nd still they find sumthin to complain about. if i put the spoon in the wrong drawer, its like the end of the world or somethin. my dad once told me “you cant do anything right” just cause i forgot to take out the trash one night. like fr?? ONE night. nd he talk to me like i failed at life or sumthin. my brother, don’t even get me started, he be callin me names every chance he gets. annoying, stupid, crybaby... nd my parents don’t say nothing. they just laugh like its funny. well it aint.

sometimes i think maybe i was adopted or somethin, like how else do u explain it? they all so close with each other. laughin at the table, goin out places without me, sharin inside jokes. nd im just... there. invisible. or worse, the target. i tried to ask my mom once, like, why yall always treat me like im the enemy? nd she said “stop makin everything about you.” like, bruh, i only asked cause im tired of feelin like trash in my own house. is that too much?? to want to feel loved in ur own damn family?

school aint much better but at least there, some ppl smile at me. even if they fake, at least they fake nice. at home, i get nothin. no hugs, no “how was ur day,” not even a “good night.” just silence or sarcasm. nd if i say anything back, they say im disrespectful. like sorry for having feelings i guess?? they make me feel like im a burdden. like they’d be better off without me there. nd sometimes, late at night, i start thinkin maybe they're right. maybe i am the problem and dont even kno it. maybe im just broken in some way that makes ppl not wanna be around me.

but then i remember, im just a kid. im only 15. i didnt ask to be here, i didnt choose this family. nd i shouldnt have to beg for basic kindness. im not askin for them to buy me stuff or give me everything i want. i just want respect. some love. someone to say “i see you” instead of makin me feel like a ghost. if i ever become a mom, i swear imma treat my kids like they matter. i wont let them go to bed feelin unloved like i do most nights. i want to break whatever this is, this cycle of meaness that they think is normal.

i dont even kno what to do anymore. talkin dont work, cryin dont help, stayin silent just makes them act like nothin’s wrong. maybe one day i’ll move out and things’ll change. maybe they’ll miss me when im gone. or maybe they wont. maybe they’ll just keep goin like i was never there. all i kno is, i can’t keep holdin all this in forever. it hurts too much. nd im tired of pretendin it dont. so if ur readin this n u ever felt the same way, like ur own family don't even like u... ur not alone. i feel it too. every day. every damn day.