Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

My stepdaughter, who's in high school, has a lifelong friend whose birthday celebrations in December have become a tradition for us. Together with my wife, we have two children, and we always make it a point to attend this annual party. This particular year, as my own family planned a significant holiday abroad over Christmas, we coordinated with her friend's mom to ensure the celebration wouldn't be missed, scheduling our departure two days post the event.

However, just this Monday, my stepdaughter returned home with news that the birthday was rescheduled to accommodate other relatives flying in, unfortunately well past our planned departure. Here's where the dilemma intensifies — first, altering our travel plans would be costly, doubling our expenses. Second, it clashes with my work-approved leave, which means cutting our two-week trip to just a week. Third, this trip is my rare chance to reunite with siblings I only see once a year during the holidays. Lastly, we had already aligned our vacation months in advance around the original party date.

Initially, I proposed asking her friend's parents to revert to the initial date, considering our arrangements. My wife didn't agree with that. My second idea was to modify only my stepdaughter's flight since she could travel independently; my wife also disagreed due to her close ties with the other mom and her personal desire to attend. Her solution was simple yet impractical for me — delay our entire family's travel. This suggestion only led to an escalating series of arguments throughout the week.

Last night, the standoff reached a peak when my wife insisted we prioritize the party, opposite to my plan of sticking to our original travel schedule with or without her. The argument spiraled to a point where my stepdaughter labeled me unreasonable, and in my frustration, I suggested grounding her, though my wife opposed, stating our daughter's reaction was warranted. Now, everything's just a huge, tangled mess.

Imagine how people would react if our family drama was part of a reality TV show. Viewers would probably be on the edge of their seats, either criticizing my rigid stance or empathizing with the tough spot we're all in. The drama, the heated exchanges, and the stark decisions could really stir up the audience engagement, making it an episode not to miss.

I dunno what to do ahahahahaa.. the loml is stalking me. Hahahahah .. it's a bit a grey area it's a good and a bad situation pls help hahahahaha I'm going crazy.

i’ve been sitting on this for a while because i don’t even know if it’s my place to bring it up, but it’s been eating at me. a close friend—let’s call him ben—confided in me about his struggles with porn addiction. he didn’t use those exact words, of course. he said things like, “i think i overdo it” and “it’s messing with how i see people.” i didn’t know how to react. i just listened, nodded, told him it’s okay to talk about it. but the truth is, i felt wildly underqualified. i don’t have experience with addiction. i don’t even know what’s considered “normal” anymore with all the stuff floating around online. still, i want to help him. i’m just not sure how.

we talked again a few days later. he mentioned trying to stop but always ending up “relapsing” after a few days. that’s when it hit me—it’s not about willpower. something deeper’s going on. i asked if he’d thought about therapy. he shrugged and said he didn’t think it was “that serious.” is it ever “that serious” in your own mind until someone else tells you it is? i didn’t push him but i planted the seed. maybe that was enough, maybe not. i don’t know. he also talked about how it’s affecting his relationships, how he finds it hard to feel emotionally close to someone when his brain is so rewired. that’s what he said—rewired. like it’s not just a habit, but a full-on shift in how he thinks and feels. scary stuff, honestly;

then came the real curveball. he asked me to hold him accountable. to check in with him, to “help him track progress.” and i wanted to say yes, i really did. but i also knew that puts me in a spot i don’t fully understand. like, what if he fails and feels ashamed to tell me? what if i say the wrong thing and make it worse? i’m not a sponsor or therapist. i’m just a friend. so i told him that, plainly. i said i’d support him and check in when i can, but he needs to be the one steering the ship. he seemed to get it. we talked about maybe finding some online communities—there’s got to be a subreddit or forum somewhere, right? not just for the addiction part but for figuring out how to build healthy habits again. i think that’s the bigger picture here—replacing the behavior with something real, something grounding.

but here’s the thing i keep circling back to: how do you really help someone with a porn addiction? not just nod and say “i’m here for you,” but actually support them in a way that leads to something better? is it about sending resources? is it just being a steady presence? or is there a line where being supportive turns into enabling or putting yourself in an emotional spot you’re not ready for? i don’t have the answers. i’m not sure anyone truly does unless they’ve lived through it. but if you’ve been there, or helped someone who has, what did you do that actually made a difference? what should i avoid? i want to be there for ben, but not at the cost of either of us getting pulled deeper into a place we’re not ready for.

For the past several years, my wife, Anna, and I frequently discussed the possibility of me launching my own venture. I had always assumed that Anna would be part of this venture, almost like a joint entrepreneurial endeavor. However, this scenario changed dramatically when it came down to formalizing documents, where I desperately required her signatures.

Anna made her stance crystal clear, stating vehemently, “I want nothing to do with this business. It is entirely your project.” She expressed her disapproval emphatically, which took me by surprise. Consequently, I had to look for other partners to bring on board because she outright refused to be involved.

Fast forward to today, my business has taken off and is seeing significant success. Now, Anna has begun making plans on how to utilize the profits as equally as if she had been involved from the start. When I gently reminded her that the business finances were solely mine, as the accounts were in my name only and she had expressed disinterest at the beginning, she was notably upset.

Things escalated when she discovered that I had modified my will. I've decided that my share of the business and the related accounts should go to my business partners, should anything unfortunate happen to me. Anna was furious upon learning this because it meant that all she might inherit would be our prior joint assets and her own earnings, completely excluding my business assets. I reiterated her previous statements to emphasize why I made such decisions, but it only angered her more.

Although I sympathize with the challenging position this might leave Anna in if I were to pass away prematurely, I struggle with feelings of unfairness on my part. The reality that she opted out from day one, and the business success was achieved without her involvement creates a complex emotional and moral scenario. Nonetheless, am I being unreasonable here?

Imagine this situation unraveling on a reality TV show, where every nuanced emotion and financial disagreement is magnified under the public eye. The viewers would likely be split. Some might argue that marriage is a partnership, regardless of individual contributions to projects, while others might strongly side with the private arrangement and agreements made between spouses. The drama, the clear communication mishaps, and the handling of financial success would all make for compelling television, drawing in audiences eager to see how such a personal conflict is navigated in the spotlight.

Growing up, my biological family often left much to be desired, leading my sister and I to form a deep bond with our friend, Hannah, and her welcoming family. Over time, they came to be more like parents to us, offering emotional support and even assisting us through college—something I am eternally grateful for. However, a rift began to form earlier this year following a tragic event.

Hannah's father passed away, a man who was much a father to us as well. His passing brought immense sorrow, intensified by the importance his family placed on funeral attendances. In their eyes, missing the funeral was akin to a profound disrespect to both the deceased and the family. Unfortunately, my sister harbors a deep-seated phobia of death and funerals, leading her to decide against attending. Despite my attempts to persuade her, she remained resolute, and the day came and went without her presence.

This decision did not sit well with Hannah's family, especially her mother, who felt personally betrayed. She accused my sister of ingratitude, saying that by not showing up, she had dishonored a man who had done so much for her. Consequently, the family's warmth towards my sister cooled significantly, culminating in her being ostracized. They have since not invited her to their home, and even removed her when she attempted to visit.

Each July, the family hosts a large reunion, which my sister and I have consistently attended in the past. However, this year, only I received an invite. Upon learning this, my sister implored me to skip the gathering in solidarity with her. I found myself torn but ultimately decided to attend, which led to a heated exchange between us. She accused me of being insensitive, while I argued that it was predictable the family would react negatively to her absence at the funeral.

Adding to this, imagine if our situation were part of a reality TV show. Such formats thrive on conflict and emotional drama, and our story provides plenty of both. The cameras would likely zoom in on the family dynamics, perhaps portraying me in a complex light—supportive yet divided between my sister and my adopted family. Viewers would be invited to analyze and debate my decision to attend the reunion, potentially polarizing opinions and sparking widespread discussion regarding loyalty and familial obligations.

How would viewers react if I attended the family reunion on TV?

Do you know that feeling when you’re dreaming, and suddenly you’re falling, then you jerk awake like your whole body just snapped? I want to know if anyone else actually experiences this because lately it’s happening to me several times every single night, and it never used to be like this. I’m not talking about that occasional twitch most people joke about—you know, when your body jolts once and you laugh it off. This is constant, it’s repetitive, and it’s so intense that it feels like my brain has turned into some kind of defective machine that keeps hitting the emergency eject button. I wake up with my heart racing, drenched in sweat, like I just got thrown off a building mid-dream. And it’s not once, it’s not twice, but six, seven, sometimes eight times per night. It destroys any chance of real rest. I’ve done the basic checks: no late caffeine, no screens blasting in my face, no major stress spike, not even any alcohol. None of that matters. It still happens. I’ve been reading around—doctors and articles love to call it “hypnic jerk,” or they classify it under parasomnia or throw in phrases like “nocturnal myoclonus.” All that jargon does is dress up the fact that your body decides to violently boot you out of sleep like a system crash. One medical review I came across said, “most individuals report these episodes as harmless,” which is honestly insulting. Would you call it harmless if your own body tricked you into thinking you were dying by falling every night? That word doesn’t fit at all. It feels hostile, rude, and like my nervous system is playing a sick joke at my expense.

And the more I think about it, the angrier I get. On one hand, I can go all technical and detached: it’s probably my nervous system misfiring, some mix-up between the vestibular system in my inner ear and the brain’s perception of stillness. I could cite “Mahowald and Schenck (2005)” or the International Classification of Sleep Disorders, which catalog this crap like items on a warehouse shelf. But honestly, that doesn’t help me at 3 a.m. when I’m yanked awake for the fifth time in a row, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I’ll ever sleep like a normal human again. One paper described it as “heightened sympathetic activation,” which is medical speak for “your fight-or-flight system won’t shut the hell up.” Great, thanks, I already knew my body was panicking. What I want to know is: does anyone else deal with it this often? I don’t mean occasionally, I mean systemically, like it’s been programmed into your nights. Do you just accept it, or does it drive you as crazy as it drives me? I feel detached even as I write this, but the truth is that it’s wrecking me. It’s ruining my ability to get restorative sleep, wrecking my circadian rhythm, and making me wake up already exhausted. I’m not here to be sentimental or dramatic—I’m just being direct about how much this is screwing with me. And yet, it still feels absurd to even type this out, because how do you complain about your own body deciding to simulate free-fall every single night? But here I am, frustrated, pissed, and stuck with it. If you’ve felt the same, you know exactly why I had to vent it out here. And if you haven’t, lucky you. For me, the best I can sum it up in one image is this stupid emoji: 😑.

My ex and I stayed friends. I genuinely tried to grow from yk what he told me when he broke up with me. I’ve been thinking about distancing myself from him for a little bit but tonight sealed the deal. He and his friend were having problems. If I’m being honest, he was being self centered while

His friend came to him about an issue with their relationship. Though it’s not my friendship. But what hit the nail on the head of whether or not to leave him was the fact he dropped my name in their conversation. He said “this is just like how OP and others act.” I had nothing to do with that and he had no business bringing me up solely. So I asked him straight up “wtf was that name drop” and said oh I feel bad.and that oh but that stuff is solved. So why tf do you feel the need to bring up me in a conversation not about me? That shot was unnecessary. And then he said “but there is some stuff that’s been bothering me.” It’s impossible to make him happy. I have tried so hard. And there’s still grievances he refuses to say. That’s why we broke up in the first place. I’m actually so tired of this.

I've been mulling over something for quite some time, and I'd love to get some perspective. There's this guy at university, let's call him Alex, who I can't help but feel drawn to. We have several classes together, and over time, I've noticed subtle signs that he might be interested in me too. You know, those fleeting glances across the lecture hall, the lingering smiles, and the undeniable chemistry during group discussions. Yet, despite all these suggestive signals, he hasn't taken the leap to ask me out. And it leaves me in a swirl of confusion and second-guessing.

Maybe I'm reading too much into things, but the way we interact is hard to ignore. For instance, there's this palpable energy when we talk – a kind of intensity that's not usual for just friends or acquaintances. We engage in deep conversations about our courses, dissecting the nuances in the curriculum and sharing our ambitions. It's not uncommon for us to exchange study notes, offering insights and perspectives that strengthen our mutual understanding. He's attentive, remembering small details I mention in passing, which only adds to my contemplation of his intentions. But then I wonder, why hasn't he asked me out if he feels the same?

One possibility that crosses my mind is that maybe he values our academic camaraderie too much to risk it by diving into a romantic relationship. There's always that fear of potentially altering the dynamics if things don't work out, right? It could be that he's prioritizing his studies, perhaps overwhelmed with the workload and conscious of not allowing personal matters to interfere with his progress. University life is demanding, with assignments, exams, and the pressure to maintain grades continually looming. Perhaps he feels that introducing romance would only complicate things.

There’s also the chance that he might be shy or uncertain about my feelings. Could it be that he’s just as insecure as I am? It's easy to misinterpret signals or doubt one's own perceptions, especially when emotions are involved. Social dynamics are complex, often requiring immense courage to navigate, particularly in a setting as public and scrutinizing as a university. I often ask myself if he is hesitant due to previous experiences or even advice he's received from friends, urging caution and patience. It makes me question whether making a move myself might alter his perspective, but societal norms often trap me in the conventional expectation that he should be the one to take the first step.

Of course, there's the possibility that I'm mistaken entirely, that I could be misreading his kindness and genuine nature for something more. This self-doubt seems to simmer beneath the surface, fostering a myriad of restless thoughts. Could it be that he's simply not interested, and I'm clinging to a narrative that isn't there? I've wrestled with this uncertainty for weeks now, hoping for a clear sign or moment that might offer resolution. Yet, the ambiguity remains, leaving me pondering and questioning how to navigate this realm of unspoken emotions. Can anybody relate to this predicament?

i... dont even know what to do at this point. everything has been stagnant lately. no matter how much i suffer, or how much i try to change something, it all remains stuck in one spot. ive tried so many things, but none worked...

i have diagnosed clinical moderate depression and anxiety, alongside minor degree of ocd. this is awful. im so tired.

i dont have friends, even though ive tried to strike up a conversation or befriend someone 17 FUCKING TIMES in real life, countless more on the internet. among the hundreds of epople ive talked to, you can count those i liked with your two hands.

i dont have hobbies, even though ive tried to draw 7 times and learn 5 languages, all in different time periods. no matter the effort, or approach, it all vanished in a span of a week or two.

i dont feel like i belong anywhere, even though im present in one online community with great people there that make me smile.

i dont get good grades at school, even though ive tried a whole list of methods on dealing with procrastination, be it scheduling or gathering all willpower thats left. nothing works.

i would feel guilty. only if i could even feel things at all anymore. people around me are great, my mother, my teachers - they are all nice, they try to accomodate for me, but i feel worthless for not even being able to do even the most basic of tasks.

i feel so hollow. i just want to feel again. it hasnt always been thus. i remember the days when i cried. a lot. for even the most insignificant of things. its not anymore. i miss those times. i want to go back. i cant cry anymore. even if i want to. i want to cry almost everyday.

ive hurt people. im so sick of this evil side to me - horny, lustful, freaky, whatever you call it. it all began when my "friend" showed me porn at 4 years old. this experience has changed me a lot. mostly for the worse. i dont like this part, but without it i cant truly feel appreciated and free. with it, i can only experience anxiousness for people that those actions may damage.

i get help. psychologists, therapists, psychiatrists. i take prescribed antidepressants. i dont feel like there are any changes, no matter how much i try.

ive been lacking someone to talk to about everything. life, problems, in general, lately. i have no one to vent to. or talk to for that matter. people seem so superficial, and its me whos the "different" one. they are "normal".

i beg for help. i reach out to those who may give me comfort. its rarely reciprocated.

i have such big capacity to love, care, comfort others. and i do that! whenever someone is in pain i make sure to let them known im there for them if they need someone to talk to. projection, isnt it? i offer others something i could not have. selfless. awesome. i have so many great qualities, but for some reason i can never find anyone to be friends with. am i worse than everyone else? or better? or just different?

im so tired. i dont know what to do, i just want all this numbness to end, i want to feel and live again. this existence is torment. help me please

it seems that most people don’t understand the silent struggles many face, particularly when it comes to mental health. for some, panic attacks occur without the familiar outward signs; instead, they’re discreet episodes that manifest internally. often, these silent panic attacks creep up when least expected, leaving the individual in a whirlwind of confusion and unease. has anyone else ever found themselves in a similar predicament? 😕 the reality for many is one of isolation, as the outside world continues its pace while the individual grapples with an unseen storm.

one may find themselves at a social gathering, surrounded by laughter and conversation, yet feeling inexplicably detached. the heart races, palms sweat, and a feeling of impending doom looms overhead. friends may speak, but their voices are drowned out by the cacophony of racing thoughts and rising anxiety. such instances challenge the individual to maintain an outward appearance of composure while their mind engages in a frantic battle. it begs the question: how does one articulate a silent struggle when the world expects a smile? 🎭

situations arise when the tension becomes so palpable that breath feels scarce. a sudden wave of panic might wash over, leaving one feeling trapped in their own skin. the claustrophobic sensation of being surrounded, yet utterly alone, creates a profound disconnect. the mental fog thickens, causing concentration to falter. it is during these moments of solitude that one ponders the magnitude of perception versus reality. does anyone else experience that moment when everything seems amplified, yet others remain blissfully unaware of your turmoil? 😰

throughout these silent moments, a multitude of coping mechanisms may emerge. whether it’s grounding techniques, deep breathing, or simply stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, the response to such events is deeply individualized. however, the lingering feeling of wanting to express one’s fears can often lead to a sense of frustration. the question persists: is there a way to bridge the gap between personal experiences and external acknowledgment? contextually, how does one convey the urgency of their silent battles without appearing overly dramatic? combating these internal demons requires not only resilience but also a sense of connection with others, even if that connection is predicated on shared, silent understanding. 🌈

I recently got promoted at work, which allowed me to move into a new apartment in a desirable neighborhood. It's the first time I've lived on my own, and I'm genuinely proud of the independence and space I've earned.

However, things took an unexpected turn. My older brother, Thomas, who's always had his share of financial instability, found himself in a bind. He and his wife, notoriously poor with money management, were evicted from their apartment due to soaring rent prices. Now, homeless with their two children, ages 5 and 7, Thomas reached out for help.

Thomas asked if he and his family could crash with me while they sorted out their situation. But here’s the hitch: my apartment is a modest one-bedroom, barely spacious enough for me alone, and certainly not designed for a family of four with young kids. I’ve never dealt with children and the thought of childproofing and constantly monitoring the kids is daunting.

I tried to offer financial assistance instead, suggesting that I could pay for a temporary rental or a hotel stay. Despite this, Thomas and his wife are firm on the idea that staying with family is not only economical but also less stressful for their children.

The pressure from my family didn’t take long to mount. My parents and relatives began labeling me as selfish, accusing me of prioritizing my “fancy apartment” over the well-being of family. They remind me excessively that “Family helps family,” and plead me to consider my young nieces, which does tug at my heartstrings.

Despite the guilt-tripping, I've decided to hold my ground. However, it's left me isolated, with family members expressing their disappointment, making me second-guess if I'm being unreasonable or cold-hearted.

If this scenario were featured on a reality show, imagine the varied reactions from audience members! Viewers might be divided, some sympathizing with my need for personal space and understanding the limitations of my living conditions, while others might vilify me for not opening my home, dramatizing the situation with intense family arguments and emotional appeals from my brother, casting me in a less than flattering light. Reality TV thrives on such conflicts, and my situation could easily be framed to boost drama and engage viewers.

Am I really the bad guy here for wanting to maintain my personal sanctuary and my lifestyle?

I love my parents like most kids. I’m 13, female. My mom, she’s strict but sweet. She always tries her best despite being tight on money, my dad is always there for me to talk to whether it’s about something stupid or deep concepts. My dad is silly and fun and while my mom is more laid back and strict on me I know she loves me and wants the best for me. They’re not bad parents but what’s really affecting me is their divorce. They’re got divorced a while ago, about 3 years now I think. Ever since then they still live in the same apartment, it’s my mom but my dad stays here. I don’t know why I think money reasons. Either way my dad gets really bad mood swings and easily gets angry. He’s also a bit paranoid I will admit. Recently my mom said we have to get our passports done again so we can go see my grandpa and in case I have any upcoming trips as I go into highschool. My dad for some reason was not happy about that. Usually they argue over text. While I’m still upset and can clearly tell when they’re fighting at least they keep it out of the hearing of me and my sister. It’s gone years since their last argument out loud. Today broke it. My dad yelled at my mom when she asked if he’d bring me to my tour of the highschool before my graduation. He said she was making him out to be a bad parent because he didn’t want to go and somehow that spiraled into how he didn’t want to get our passports done. He thinks my mom would take me in my sister away. She would never. I don’t know their thoughts but I KNOW my mom would never do that. They were yelling. It hurts to hear them yell. I wanted to cry but there’s nowhere I can be alone to cry because I share a room with my sister so I took a shower to cry in there. I was worried, am worried. Not about me. More about my parents and even more for my sister. She’s currently 10. She was 6 or 7 I think when she witnessed my parents get into their first and only physical fight, which was the breaking point of their marriage. It had been rough before then but that was what broke it. They had been screaming at each other and my dad accidentally pushed my mom into our room. I had been holding my sister on my bed and covering her ears, I was scared but I was more scared for her. I didn’t want her to have to hear that. But I only had two hand, not four and I couldn’t cover her eyes like I wanted. She was crying and she managed to break away to get to my mom and dad who weee struggling against each other. I was scared before and even more scared then. She was in the danger so I ran over and pulled her back so maybe she wouldn’t accidentally get hit. Ever since then whenever my parents fought out loud I’ve always been scared for her. How she felt, how would this effect her? I don’t even know if it does affect her, she always looks so neutral, maybe she’s used to it because she grew up in it. Either way I’m scared for her. I’m scared for my parents. I’m scared that they’re really going to break it off, that I’ll have to be moved around every couple days on a schedule between houses to be with them. I’m scared that it might get physical again. They’re divorced but they’re still living together, there’s nothing to stop that. If that happens could me and my sister not be able to see our dad again? Would the court think he’s not fit to be around us. I love my dad. I’m scared, so scared.

Yesterday marked another year for my dad, and the family gathering was quite something to behold. Present were my sister Laura, our other sister Jane, our aunt and uncle, along with our three cousins. Among them, our cousin Olivia, who recently had her daughter raise some commiserations over a broken ankle requiring crutches. At the party, Laura's son, Nathan, 13, and Olivia's daughter, Emma, 12, were the juniors present.

The children spent their time in the living room while the adults busied themselves in the kitchen. We paid little mind to the youngsters, believing them mature enough to steer clear of any real mischief. However, a loud crash followed by a burst of yelling abruptly drew us all to the scene. Rushing in, we found Nathan and Emma in a tangle over a crutch. Emma was seated, struggling to maintain her balance, and Nathan was behind her, evidently the instigator in the scuffle. The confrontation ended with Emma toppling backward off the couch, crying.

It emerged that Nathan, in a bizarre act, had hurled one of Emma’s crutches down the basement stairs and was in the process of doing the same with the other. After confirming Emma wasn’t gravely injured, her mother Olivia began interrogating Nathan with a mix of concern and frustration, raising her voice but not exactly shouting. Several others chimed in, but Laura swiftly defended her son, asserting “He’s just a kid; no one’s hurt.”

This rationale seemed flimsy to me because, first, Emma could have been seriously injured, and second, Nathan is 13—an age at which such recklessness should be more controlled. I voiced my opinion that “just a kid” might apply to those under 11, but certainly not a teenager.

Laura was noticeably upset by the reactions, particularly mine. I truly don’t understand why Nathan acted so carelessly. Perhaps he thought it was funny? Laura’s irritation makes me wonder if I overstepped, but honestly, what was that about?

Imagining this incident featured on a reality show, would the public take my side, seeing Nathan’s actions as flat-out dangerous, or would they sympathize with Laura, viewing the backlash as an overreaction? The drama and debates that follow such a scene could be endless, heightening tensions or perhaps even drawing a clear line on parenting views under public scrutiny.

If this were a scenario on a reality show, how might the audience react?

so this morning in the hall on my way to Band class, a friend of mine passed, one of the Special Ed kids. Usually he just waves at me, and I smile and wave back, but today he said, "Can I have a hug?" And I said, "Sure!" and that was hours ago and I'm still smiling. That little interaction made my day a little better :D

here's your reminder that even the smallest of things, a little smile, a hug, even a compliment can brighten someone's day just a little!

I'm currently at work. I do research for a travel provider in my local area. Today I was interviewing passengers on the metro system but before I can start, I have to count all the passengers that come through my assigned door. I was mid-count when one of our ticket inspectors told me to move for a disabled passenger because I was standing in the wheelchair area absentmindedly. She pulled a face and gave me dirty looks for the remainder of her time on the metro and was doing the same when she got off. It wasn't a major issue and I moved immediately because I was in the way but her tone and glaring made me so angry. I wanted to scream at her and hit something. I just wanted to explode and it was completely out of proportion. Then on the same trip we had a fare dodger who refused to leave when he was caught. The team members let him stay on the metro despite travelling without a valid fare. I was mad at the staff for giving up so easily but I just wanted to attack the dodger. I'm a fair large person and all I could picture in my head was repeatedly kicking this man in the head. Again, irrational anger. The staff are not obligated to remove fare dodgers when they get aggressive, which he was. And wanting to beat a man to death for being a cheap, scumbag is excessive. But I keep having these thoughts of disproportionate rage whenever a situation arises. I regularly fantasize about murdering my neighbour after he threatened me a year ago. What the hell is wrong with me?