Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

To provide some context, my parents went through a tumultuous divorce and currently, they do not communicate at all. I have my own family now—married with young kids—and we live in a house that's quite a distance from my father's residence. After his remarriage, which I did not attend, relations have been strained.

The occasion in question was my young son’s birthday. To my surprise, he wanted a full-fledged party even though he just turned three. Perhaps I was naive not to expect this; I quickly put together a guest list which included my son's friends and my mother, given her proximity and ability to attend at short notice. The celebration was delightful, and my son was thrilled. I shared some moments from the party on social media.

Then came a startling message from my dad. I’d rather not reproduce the message here, but it conveyed his frustration about not being invited to familial gatherings, my absence at his wedding, and his feeling that my mom has turned me against him. He warned of unspecified 'consequences' if this continued.

Confused, especially since I had just seen him at a family gathering on his side the previous month, I explained the impracticality of having him and my mom together, given the likely conflict. I suggested meeting up on another day so he could spend some time with my son. Regarding his wedding, I shared my discomfort about attending, stressing it wasn’t personal. His mention of 'consequences' did not sit well with me—I’m financially independent and, honestly, the idea of any material loss doesn't faze me much. Being excluded from his will or inheriting debts seemed the least of my worries.

Despite my efforts to explain, the conversation looped back to his grievances. I feel caught between maintaining peace and the desire for him to have a relationship with his grandchildren.

Adding to this, if our scenario played out on a reality show, I imagine the dramatic music ramping up as tensions unfold, with close-ups on tense faces. Viewers might be split—some empathizing with the need to keep family peace, others frustrated at my dad’s lack of understanding. Comments would probably flood in about family dynamics and managing elder relationships in modern settings.

I’m grappling with the idea of whether to limit our interactions as my siblings have chosen to do. It’s a tough call when you hope your children can know their grandfather, but not at the cost of constant family tension.

How would the public react to a reality show episode featuring this family conflict?

I grew up in a very religious family and currently a teens rn.(forgive me if my English or grammar is wrong)

My family would always bring me and my brother to church every sabbath. Tbh I've never missed a sabbath. And they say that gay people are an abomination. And I read bl (boys love) and the reason I read it was probably just to run away from my own problems. I know it's really not a good thing to do but I can't stop reading it. it's becoming an obsession. I just feel really guilty for doing this but I really can't stop it's the only reason I can keep a smile. It was my source of happiness. It was always there for me. But i feel like im betraying my parents by doing this. I really feel guilty. I feel like I'll get disowned if I get discovered. But I just really don't know what to do. I really need to quit doing this. Please someone share some advice In which way i should go.

It's currently 8:00 am and i have only about 3-ish hours to study for a big test i didn't study for before. And i feel like an idiot because i wanted to study this before but i've been so tired these days. Lately i've been always tired actually, i don't even know why. But the last few days have been really bad. And i haven't been able to get anything done. I've struggling to get out of bed or do just anything even the things i like. And i feel horrible because It kinda feel like i'm ruining the things i've been working for so far and like i'm falling behind. And i don't know what to do to fix this. And i don't know where to begin because It's all too much It's all too overwhelming. Sometimes i just want to hide under the covers and never get out. I hate this. I'm so tired.

I'm a 32-year-old woman who used to work at a local tavern with a bartender, Patricia, about ten years ago. Patricia now owns her own bartending LLC, which she's been running successfully for about three years. She gets hired for various events, including weddings at the venue I now manage.

I married into a family that owns a wedding venue, where I work as the office manager. My responsibilities include emailing, calling, and meeting brides frequently. I work closely with my mother-in-law (MIL), who has owned the venue for about a decade. I started in this position about a year ago. The bride in this story was a client of both our venue and Patricia’s bartending service. Brides typically hire multiple vendors for weddings, such as the venue (us), bartenders (Patricia), DJs, caterers, photographers, etc.

The Situation

When the bride booked our venue, it was before I began working there. My husband and I lived across the state for a few years before moving back in 2022, and I started working at the venue in May 2023. The bride had already toured the venue, booked it, and communicated via email with my MIL (the owner). By the time I got involved, I had never met or interacted with the bride.

In January 2024, the bride's wedding was scheduled for April 27th. Her final payment was due in January, so I sent a reminder email. A few days later, she responded, saying the wedding was canceled. We use a single business email, and we don’t have personal emails tied to the business. My MIL, who is kind and understanding, emailed back, offering to work something out if the cancellation was due to financial reasons, as it was too close to the date to rebook, and we'd lose money. The bride simply replied, "We broke up." We never heard from her again despite multiple attempts to get her to sign a cancellation form. By early March, I sent a final email stating that I would use the email chain as her cancellation notice, as per our contract. No response came. I assumed the bride was either embarrassed or just poor at communicating.

Patricia's Experience

Patricia knew I was now working at my in-laws' venue, and we were looking forward to working together again. Last week, she texted me asking if the wedding was still on for the 27th. I informed her that the bride had canceled in January and hadn’t made her final payment. Shockingly, the bride never informed Patricia of the cancellation, leaving Patricia out of money since she had prepared her staff for the wedding. Despite multiple attempts to reach the bride, Patricia received no response, which was baffling. Why would the bride ignore Patricia but cancel with us?

Five days before the wedding date, the bride finally told Patricia about the cancellation. Patricia, understandably irritated, replied that she had already found out from the venue and advised the bride to inform her vendors sooner next time to avoid potential financial losses. Upon reviewing her contract, Patricia realized there was a clause requiring only a five-day notice before canceling the bartending service. This meant the bride had deliberately waited until the last minute to notify Patricia, despite canceling the wedding nearly four months earlier. Who does that? It's cruel and inconsiderate. I'm sure other vendors also suffered financial losses because of this bride. What a jerk.

This place has helped more than I imagined. The things I have to share are so fucked up and and dark.. but I can't speak them. The words choke me.

I've been assembling a sort of plan with a therapist. As I've forced myself to face my demons I've found a startling truth.

Maybe some of you have read what are.. likely almost unbelievably fucked up things I've experienced, that I've shared. Idk.

You see, my family, we came here from a country destroyed by war. We were no strangers to violence. Depravity. So we came to Canada, years and years before me. At first we began to thrive. It is a welcoming, beautiful country. Hard, determined, friendly people. But the evil of mankind seemed to have followed us, or perhaps the war left its mark on us and we just didn't see.

It began with my mother. She was always an erratic lady, you see. High energy. Fiercely intelligent, strong, capable. A take charge woman. Naturally, she thrived at her first job here- a computer scientist. But it wasn't enough. Something changed. Somehow, no one knows, she got in touch with cartel members, all the way out here. Not really as hard as you may think. movies and shows don't do it justice. The cartel is fuckin organized. If you've not actually seen it, just know this: It's better organized than most companies.

I dont know what she did at first. By that time she was pretty quiet about it. I suspect leaking info, she worked for some big firm you see. Eventually, though, she was hooked on drugs. That was it. Over the years, she became increasingly violent. She beat the entire family, held us all in a grip of fear.

And she became obsessed with me. She began to dabble in the occult, became convinced she controlled curses, demons. Ridiculous.. but imagine yourself, a boy. Just a boy. Your whole world has been spoon fed to you from this lady. She hurts you. She isolates you.

The things she has done, not just to me, but other children- kids from other families, or whatever, who were also involved. There is no hell or pit low enough for her. I have seen men shot, burnt alive, beaten to death, for trivial monetary owing. For drugs. For sport. She became pretty big. One of the largest meth and weapons dealers in the region. But that doesn't come without risks.

For every tens of thousands she made it disappeared into her drug habit. As it got worse, she'd taken me and run off. My father was.. a broken man. The war, yknow. He left me. The other children, my siblings, ran. It was just me, her and my dog. And.. well she didn't let me keep the dog long. let's just say that..

Eventually ofc I ran away. After many attempts. After she literally tore my face open with a claw hammer. I still bear the scars, of course. She even used the claw side... fuck me. I was five, man. How the fuck did she not kill me????

No one came. Years and years went by... I've been.. idek bro. Idk what I am. I'm broken. I know I am. Every day, flashbacks. So vivid I act them out, its embarrassing. I wake up with night terrors, but they're not even just that- it's memories. All memories. I've realized that I'm not even really a person. I've spent so long fighting to hold this inside, fighting to stay alive.. been on my own since 14. No assistance whatsoever. I realize that since I was a kid, I didn't have time to be anyone. I don't.. have hobbies. I don't really have likes or dislikes, yknow, in that regard. All I have is this cringing, crippling pain inside.

I want to change that. But..it's not gonna be easy. In my therapy, they mentioned that I am a victim of thought reform. That we needed to 'deconstruct' the puzzle she's made of me, because I still have the same irrational fears(the supernatural, things like that) that control me. Doesn't matter if I know it's bullshit, it's that fear response. Hardwired.

I also realize she's managed to create an entire person inside me, that isn't me. It's her. I never paid much mind. I've been running my whole life from this. I thought this darker reflection was just my anger, my pain. And it sort of is. But it's worse.

I feel her. She often would ambush me in the dark. I'll skip details. But so.. sometimes I just swear, in a dark hallway.. yknow? Does any of this make sense, prolly not. You can't really get it unless you've lived it, ig, like with anything. I just don't know what to do. I'm just these broken pieces and now I have to just.. figure it out. Yeah, I get it, we're all doing that. But also.. I've literally never met anyone my age, and hardly even older folk, who've seen the shit I have. And, frankly, it's probably because those types of things are buried under the rest of society. When the news is yelling about the other side of the world, I guess it's easy to forget the wars and worse happening in the gutter, right here at home.

The fuck. Anyways. This was about the most put together thing I've written in a while.. Idk what my future holds. Sometimes I.. feel I should.. yk. Leave this place. My way. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to speak these evils to my therapist, I've been writing them down, bit by bit..I'm afraid that when it all comes out, it won't stop. I'm afraid of all that I've suppressed- who fucking knows, what have I been hiding even from me??? God.. but I mean.. fuck, dude. I did everything alone. That has to mean something right?

I had every opportunity to become like her. She even tried for years to make me her enforcer. She said it was her dream, isn't that just fucked? To want, WANT your CHILD to kill families, rivals? What insanity. But I refused. I took more than a few beatings for that, and.. worse. But God saw that shit, I swear. Somehow.. no matter the horror.. no matter how truly fuckin close I've been to hell, to danger, to the worst of humanity, brother I cannot give up. I want to, SO BAD. But I guess I'm made of stern stuff. Man i feel so stupid saying all of this, sometimes, you know, you say something and your brain reminds you how much sense it makes, and i find myself feeling dumb after. Then again, I ah, I'm so fucked up.. I can hardly string a thought this long and organized at all. Why is that?? Why is it now, right now, I'm not a blubbering mess like every other time? Is that what healing feels like? Idfk. I don't trust myself at this time because it's all mixed inside, yknow? It feels easier to generalize. Like, I basically skimmed over my shit. If I get into specifics, like other posts.. oh I'm fucked. Weird.. but maybe not. Okay, rant done

Recently I've been feeling really crappy; I've been getting a lot of headaches, a huge loss of appitite, and I've constantly felt like I was going to faint. I brought this up with my mom and mentioned how I'm probably anemic (since I've had multiple blood tests done to show that I have an iron deficency and I show an alarming amount of the symptoms), however, she just said it was because I didn't eat and I belived her. But then school started and I was getting up and down and whatnot a lot more and suddenly I'm literally fighting to not pass out in my algebra class and get trampled by the greasy football kids. So far, it's been happening for multiple days and I've also been losing sleep. My mom always blames the symptoms on things like me not getting enough exersise or not eating (both are not possible though as I live in a very mountain-y area and I have to constantly walk up steep hills at my school to get to some classes, and I HAVE been eating). It's not new either, II have been expiriancing these things for a long time, even though it's more recently they're starting to get worse.

This isn't really the only time she's done stuff like this though. for a long time I struggled with anxiety and she had said it was 'normal for my age' but when an actual doctor looked at my anxiety they said it was extremely high for someone my age, to which my mom agreed to like she agreed the whole time and only put me in therapy after that. She's also doing the same for the fact that I can;t sleep and refusing to let me go on any sort of medication for my anxiety or inability to sleep, when these are things I have been serriously struggling with since I was in the third grade. It just kinda feels like she doesn't belive me whenever I say something is wrong or ask for her help with that type of thing. I love her a lot and she's amazing, but I really wish that she would listen to me for once because it feels terrible when a doctor has to tell her something I've been telling her for ages for her to be concerned or just listen.

My girlfriend Ellie recently celebrated her birthday. We kept the celebration low-key with a little gathering at our place since she really dislikes opening presents in front of others, something all our friends are well aware of. Hence, she decided to open her gifts later that same night after everyone had left.

A couple of days after her birthday, she received a package from my parents. They tend to go big with gifts as they're quite well-off and had picked out a high-end designer purse Ellie had shown interest in during our last visit. My parents had snapped it up that same weekend to save for her special day. Ellie had already texted them a thank-you in advance, mentioning she'd update them once she’d opened it. Nevertheless, the gift remained unopened on our dresser for days, making my parents anxious enough to send a message inquiring if she'd looked at it yet. I prompted Ellie about when she might unwrap the gift, to which she simply answered, “soon.” I have to admit, I was eager too, knowing how much she wanted that bag.

As more days passed without the gift being opened, my parents followed up again. Feeling pressured, Ellie asked me if I could request them to back off. She explained that the pressure was taking the joy out of it for her, making her reluctant to open the gift at all. To me, this was baffling. There was no audience, just a simple unwrap and a follow-up thank-you would suffice—much like how it was with the earlier gifts from our friends. Frustration set in on both sides when I voiced this, and she retorted, “you just don't get how uncomfortable it makes me.”

Nearly a week after the gift arrived, my parents contacted me privately to enquire if Ellie liked the purse. Upon learning it was still unopened, they wondered if they had somehow crossed a line. Their past gifts hadn’t stirred such a reaction, and truthfully, I found it somewhat discourteous of Ellie not to at least acknowledge it by now.

Last night, while Ellie was out with friends, I decided to take matters into my own hands; I opened the gift myself and placed the bag prominently on the dresser, hoping to alleviate the pressure off her so we could all move past this awkwardness. I thought I was doing her a favor. However, she didn’t see it that way when she returned home. She was upset, revealing she had suspected the bag’s identity and felt uncomfortable about its lavishness, admitting it wasn’t the right time for her to open such an expensive gift. I argued that it was somewhat impolite to delay further, but she countered that it was more inappropriate for me to open it for her. The evening ended tersely, and this morning was no better, the purse still untouched on the dresser where I left it.

Imagine if this had unfolded on a reality show — the cameras zooming in on the unopened designer gift, the audience perhaps sympathizing with Ellie's discomfort or criticizing my impatience and breach of her privacy. The scene would certainly stir up strong opinions among viewers, polarizing comment sections and probably spawning a fervent discussion about boundaries and empathy in relationships.

so, my doctor recently insisted that i incorporate some form of exercise into my lifestyle, and the sport they recommended was running. but the issue here, if i may be candid, is that i detest running with a passion. now, it's not like i don't see the merit in it from a cardiovascular and health standpoint; after all, countless articles and fitness enthusiasts tout its benefits. references regarding endorphins and other biochemical wonders abound in literature aimed at converting the skeptics among us. however, when your actual experience of running is tantamount to an ongoing battle against gravity itself, these proclaimed joys seem somewhat mythical.

why do people have such varied perceptions? strictly speaking from the perspective of sport specificity, perhaps it could be argued that i'm approaching this with too much rigidity. adopting phrases like 'aerodynamic gait' or seeking a zenithal VO2 max might not quite fit my personal framework of enjoyment yet they're bandied about as casual conversations among runners cruising comfortably past the ten-mile mark without breaking so much as a glistening sweat! there exists a world where terms such as tempo runs and negative splits are part of daily parlance something that's humbling for someone struggling to avoid constant shin splints!

with consultations bordering on mini-lectures about biomechanics and learning about posterior chain engagement—concepts that appear incredibly pivotal to this activity—it becomes overwhelming rather than inviting. living up to expectations feels impossible given the elite discourse prevalent within seasoned circles' lingo further convoluted by anyone already half-decent at stride length—or whatever marathon folks dub casual hustle.

i'd prefer finding an easier transition bridging couch-potatoism towards avid sprinterdom without exertions envisioned via daunting manuals stressing intervals over natural instincts...small steps chipping nicely away come recommendation whereby technique involves 'listening closely', hearing foundational mantras consider prominent focal points even innumerable traps faced virulent bête noire through surface highways prowled until post theories pastime enable slumber livelier urban solutions own remedy determining finally facilitated guess record never wanting downgrade physically happen smooth nonexistent normality asserts hope resting decent bedtime cuddle balancing stark unpopular moves finally revealed course fence cycling pictured open-door equilibrium twilight wholesaling kit virtuously approached comfort zones inviting arguments addition pseudo-regimen provide existential leap undeniable relevance seemingly borderline novel—a cued geographical riddle so adequately tantalizing wholeheartedly engaged imaginatively poignantly scientific: optimized speed luring courageous departure!

I ain't one to air my laundry, but sometimes it's freeing to just lay it all out there. life throws curveballs, and boy, did i get hit by one. my husband, bless his heart, decided to test our vows a couple years ago. cheated on me, he did. now, i ain't saying i'm perfect, but that knock knocked the wind out of me. i'm 47, been around the block, and you'd think i'd seen it all, but nothing prepares you for your partner's betrayal. it ain't easy, letting go of that kind of hurt. easy living is what i wanted, but life had other plans. by the way, how long does it really take to forgive? learned from a wise soul that, "forgiveness ain't about forgetting, but about letting go of the hold that pain has over you." and ain't that the truth? let me tell you, releasing that grip ain't a one-and-done deal.

from that day, things changed. our house felt different, like the walls knew secrets they shouldn't. "once trust is gone, it's hard to earn it back." a cliché, sure, but reality is cliches exist for a reason. tried therapy, tried talking, tried understanding the why's and how's. maybe i could've seen it coming, maybe not. questions like a spinning wheel in my head, asking, did i do enough? was i overlooking the signs? but hey, blaming myself ain't gonna fix a thing. i've learned not to carry that burden. laid it on him, rightly so. he messed up, not me. relationships are tricky business, and cautionary tales abound. but man, it hurts to be the one people wag their tongues about, even if no names are named. staying put, that's my choice, 'cause the heart and mind have minds of their own. ever been in such a dilemma yourself? if so, you'll know it's a matter of picking the pieces, even when some might be missing.

'm figuring out the whole forgive but never forget thing. my puzzle's still got gaps, and that's okay. life's not about having it all figured out, is it? daily, i remind myself of the good times, but the shadows linger. ain't saying i'm a saint, but i'm being kind to myself. "to err is human; to forgive is divine," or so they say. not divine, just human, with all the flaws and sorrows that come with it. hesitations and doubts live rent-free in my head, but that's part of the package deal called moving on. we ain't perfect, not you, not me, not my husband. but i feel you gotta let people learn from mistakes, right? and if second chances are a deal-breaker for some, who am i to judge? life's too short to hold grudges, but it sure as hell ain't too short to forget. what about you? where do you draw the line between forgiving and forgetting?

I recently settled into a new house in a community proudly free from the constraints of a Homeowners' Association. I chose this particular area because it boasted a range of vividly painted houses, contrasting sharply with the typical subdued shades favored in other neighborhoods.

Excited to inject a bit of my own style, I decided on a repaint using a soothing peach hue offset by accents of sage, blue, and varying shades of pink. It's quite the subtle yet playful palette, reminiscent of a design you might stumble upon with a "coolors blue sage peach" search.

However, my neighbor Mark, who has always had an issue with any sort of change, expressed his displeasure as soon as the brushes touched the walls. Not just with the paint job, but he's also voiced his disdain for our lively front yard—complete with a bounty of wildflowers, cheerful garden flags, and a community-centric Little Free Library.

Despite his persistent complaints, I've stood firm on my choices, occasionally suggesting that perhaps a neighborhood governed by an HOA might better suit his preferences for more muted tones. Mark bristled at the prospect, stubbornly mentioning his 15 years of residence here as a reason to stay put. I simply responded by suggesting he might need to adjust to the existence of color in his life.

Just last weekend, while setting down some whimsically painted pavers crafted with my niece—featuring vibrant depictions of ladybugs and birds—Mark stormed over to launch into another tirade. Right in front of my 15-year-old niece, I’ll confess I lost a bit of my filter and retorted that he should likely grow up and accept the differences around him.

This exchange escalated quickly with Mark questioning my respectfulness and right to speak to him in such a manner. My reply for him to find more productive ways to spend his time was met with even further anger. My niece, on the other hand, found the whole scene rather amusing.

Other neighbors have since approached me, relaying that Mark has been making a fuss about my supposed rudeness. While one neighbor sympathized with the longevity of Mark's residence, suggesting I remain cordial, I’m unsure if standing up for my choices really makes me that objectionable.

In an imaginative twist, what if this whole colorful debacle were part of a reality TV show? Cameras rolling as vibrant pavers hit the soil and verbal fireworks exploded might have garnered a variety of reactions from an audience. Would viewers cheer for my unapologetic individualism? Or would sympathy lean towards Mark, casting me as the vibrant villain in our neighborhood drama? It's an intriguing thought, how the lens of public entertainment might shift the dynamics of a local neighborhood dispute.

What do you think, am I wrong for handling my neighbor the way I did?

i don't really know how to say it without sounding like i am begging or being dramatic but i don't have friends and it feels weird because i am not even sure when it happened!! i used to think people just sort of stayed around if you were normal enough and nice enough and did not bother them too much?? but i guess that is not how it works for me!! i had people before who i talked to in class or at work or outside for little things and we laughed sometimes and it felt like maybe that was friendship but then when the reason to see each other was gone they just went gone too!! not in a mean movie way or anything like that just quiet and normal and kind of boring which makes it worse in a way?? because nobody did anything big and evil!! nobody betrayed me with a giant speech!! it was just messages getting shorter and plans not happening and me saying maybe next week and them saying yeah for sure and then nothing!! and i also did that sometimes so i can not act like i am innocent and perfect!! maybe i am hard to know!! maybe i answer too slow because i get scared and then i answer too much because i panic!! maybe i make people feel like i do not need them and then i sit in my room thinking why does nobody need me!! is that stupid?? maybe it is but it is still my real feeling!!

i remember one time i bought snacks because someone said they might come over and watch something with me and i cleaned my room badly but proudly like i was hosting a royal event even though it was just me shoving clothes under the bed!! then they said they were tired and could we do it another day and i said sure no worries!! i meant it too because people get tired and people have lives and i do not want to be that person who makes everything about me!! but after i said sure i just sat there with the snacks on the table and felt like the whole room got bigger and empty in a really ugly way!! i ate half of them and felt sick and then felt guilty for feeling sad about such a normal cancel thing!! so yeah i can see both sides!! people are allowed to cancel!! people are allowed to have other friends and families and problems!! but i am also allowed to feel like i am disappearing a little every time i get left on maybe!! do you ever feel like you are not hated but just not picked?? because that is the part that gets me!! i am not fighting with anyone!! i am not blocked by anyone!! i am just not the person anyone thinks to call when they are bored or happy or falling apart!! i guess i am writing this because i don't know where else to put it; maybe that sounds pathetic but i do not think it is only pathetic!! maybe it is just honest!! i think there is something really embarrassing about admitting you are lonely because people start looking for what is wrong with you!! are you too negative?? are you clingy?? are you boring?? are you secretly rude?? and maybe yes to some of it!! i have bad moods and i overshare and then i shut up for weeks!! i make jokes that land weird!! i say i am fine when i am not fine and then i get annoyed nobody guessed!! that is not fair to people either!!

the worst part is that i still like people!! i am not sitting here saying everyone is fake and terrible and i am the only deep person in the world!! i know some people are busy and some people are shy and some people already have full lives and maybe they do not even know i am lonely!! i also know friendship takes work and i have not always done the work right!! sometimes i wait for someone else to ask first because i want proof they care!! then they also wait maybe and then we both become ghosts!! that is kind of funny in a sad dumb way!! i have been trying little things like saying hello more and not acting like every conversation has to become a lifelong bond!! i try to ask about people and actually listen!! but sometimes after a normal talk i go home and replay every word like i was being tested and failed!! why is it so hard to just exist near people?? why does my brain make a small silence feel like a trial?? i do not want a huge group or some perfect life!! i just want one or two people who think of me without needing a reason!! someone who can text me something random and not make me feel like i am bothering them when i text back!! i want to be able to say i am having a bad day and not feel like i am filing a complaint!! maybe that will happen and maybe it will not!! i am trying to not turn bitter because bitter feels like a locked door from the inside!! but tonight i am tired and i am admitting it badly!! i don't have friends!! i have people i know and people i used to know and people i almost knew!! and maybe tomorrow i will feel less dramatic!! but right now it feels true and heavy and stupid and human!!

[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

I feel like no one is there for me—to listen, to read me, to write to me, or even to be open to talking with me. I feel like, in my environment, I’m just an extra burden. And if that’s the case, then I feel completely pushed aside by everyone. How could I not want to look for another place? I have to face it: I don’t belong here. That’s it. I need to find somewhere else. Period.

I’m tired of my environment refusing to admit it. We’re not compatible—and we never will be. We’ve only lived causing each other headaches, acting out power struggles to avoid admitting it, but all that’s brought is war after war. It’s time for me to leave. Maybe not physically, but mentally, emotionally. I can’t take these useless conflicts anymore—they’re destroying our ability to coexist. My presence here, their acknowledgment of me, has only made life more fearful.

It’s time to go, once and for all. I feel like I have the chance, and I’m going to take it. We’ll all be safer this way. Maybe there will be a time of imbalance, but it’s either that or keep living in fear. Those who manage to get through it will be okay—and those who don’t, well... at least everyone will have searched for peace. That’s what matters most to me now—finding peace, no matter what.

There are things we have to leave behind, and ironically, that includes the place we were born. I have nothing left here—absolutely nothing. All I see is destruction and more destruction. Why keep denying it? I don’t want to be part of this anymore. I feel like I’m encouraging my relatives to become something like criminals—just as they do to each other. Luckily, we haven’t crossed the line that would get anyone arrested or reported, but we’re getting close. And that’s not the goal. I have to face it: my presence here—someone not suited to this environment—is just harmful. I can’t deny that anymore.

There’s nothing more painful for me than realizing I’ve been a source of harm and pain. And the worst part is, I couldn’t do anything before—but now I feel like I can. And I’m proud of that. I can give everyone a calmer life. Yes, let’s admit it—they’ll be better off without me here. I’ll be better off leaving, because in doing so, I’ll have truly supported them. I’ll be repaying everything they’ve done for me. It’s the greatest thank-you I can offer—the most meaningful one. What good are gifts or fake kindness? They don’t help anymore. People feel it, even if they don’t realize it.

I feel like I’m fulfilling a moral obligation, in the end. A civic duty, even—one that supports a healthier society, whether that means staying or stepping away. It’s what I have to do.

What hurts, though, is realizing that the solution to my problems with this environment isn’t in the environment itself—it’s somewhere else. I wish it were here, so I could embrace that resolution and feel proud of it. But the truth is, it never was. Trying to force that belief only led to disaster. It’s what brought us to this point—where we hate each other, deeply. All because we tried to stay. We have to face it: this environment is filled with disconnected people who pretend to bond just to deny the truth. There’s nothing between us. There never was—barely even between parents and children.

I wish it had been different. I always believed that teamwork was the answer. But the problem is... there’s no team. You can’t count on something that doesn’t exist.

Why did this life have to be mine? Why couldn’t this have happened to someone else? Why live with this discouragement? Why does this transition have to be like this? Why do I have to leave this environment just like that? And yet—it feels like inertia. My mind just goes there... because there’s more calm. That’s it. I think deep down, that’s what we’re all searching for—peace and calm. And in a way, my own environment has pushed me toward it. It’s something that’s just out of everyone’s hands.

Then come the questions:

What will I live in that new environment? Will they try to change me? Will I become someone else? Will I forget the place I came from? What will happen to them once I’m gone?

There’s so much I can’t control. I just know this: I’m in transition—and I never thought it would be like this.

So yeah, you know everyone is "ugly" at 13? Well, I feel that way. I'm a girl, 13, and I feel ugly with a capital "UG". Wanna know why? Well, I have a very weird slim face with puffiness on the cheeks, I have some pimples on my hairline, near my nose and back, eczema scarring that doesn't go away unless I apply lots of moisturizers but you'll still know I'm itchy, hair with dryness in the scalp from eczema and I need medicinal shampoos, a nose which looks too round from the side at the bridge, lips that are just very awkward and not thick or thin, have whiteheads under my mouth, thin-haired eyebrows, eyes which are too big and brown which makes it look boring, a forehead that's two eyes big, black curly hair which needs oil, I'm very short at 5'4", and my weight so far is 44kg, and right now because my teeth are ugly and crowded, I wanted cute braces but instead I got the self-ligating ones which makes me look too nerdy, gross and very ugly. And I now have issues like eczema, acne, cat allergies, and I may get asthma since they all are in the atopic triad, so that makes me both unhealthy and very flawed. And my braces don't have any ligatures and my teeth are very crowded, so I look nerdy instead of cute like on Pinterest. And I'm built like a thin mom, yet I'm 44kg, maybe I need to lose weight. And 5'4" is short for a woman, since USA ladies are 5'7". I'm not even from USA, yet I look so ugly. And maybe, just maybe, I can do surgery to at least change my nose, and take veneers to fix my teeth.

hey, anyone else feeling like this??? it's like i'm constantly questioning my own existence as if i'm having an existential crisis, but isn't that too dramatic? every day, it's this unshakeable sensation, like i'm carrying a weighted blanket of doom. can anyone relate? sure, it could be stress or burnout. you know how everyone raves about that work-life balance, but what if there's no balance at all? maybe it's just our norm now, right?? constantly switched on and plugged in. those talks about dopamine and cortisol - are they legit, or just a fad??? "why do i feel like i'm dying," i ask myself almost daily. "this can't be normal," i think, but is it? i’ve heard about adrenal fatigue, a real thing apparently in the medical community. what if it's my adrenal glands crying out for help?? with the constant adrenaline dumps of modern life, it's no wonder, right? what if what's supposed to be an adrenaline rush slowly turns into lethal apathy??? frightening to consider, but isn’t that where we're at now, constantly anxious for seemingly no reason? headaches, fatigue - they tell me it's tension, but honestly, it's more than that, isn't it?? the classic "doctor google" game - not reliable, but inevitable when you're desperate. is it all in the mind, or could it be a nutrient deficiency? could it be something simple like that, or am i looking at early signs of something more insidious? when even a single day doesn't go by without questioning, "do i even have time for myself?" how valid is the concern that we might just be lab rats in a never-ending maze? is anyone else overthinking this??? plagued by lethargy but trapped in the paradox of insomnia... sounds like a cruel joke, doesn’t it? like those nights of sleep only to wake up feeling depleted, isn't that ironic?? people talk about mindfulness and self-care as if they're the cure-all. are they, really??? does being mindful amidst chaos truly alleviate, or is it like a band-aid on a gaping wound? the irony of it all - immersed in brief moments of peace only to be yanked back into the spinning wheel of anxiety; the 24-hour cycle of productivity pressures, isn't it exhausting?? or is it simply the side effects of our digital overdose??? are we perpetuating our own anguish through screens that keep us endlessly engaged yet forever detached? sometimes, i wonder if this constant barrage of information is programming us for obsolescence. are we just software in perpetual beta mode?? maybe i'm overanalyzing, maybe it's just life... but still, does everyone feel this unending wave of inadequacy creeping up on them like an algorithm-based existential threat?? sure, communities everywhere tout unity in mental health challenges... but if we're all lost, can the blind lead the blind effectively??? what’s the point of shared struggle if we don’t feel the progress?? they say: "reach out, talk it out." okay, but what if words are in short supply or feel inadequate? expressing the mind's chaos is not always easy, you're with me on this, right?? how many are authentically expressing, versus just surviving? the digital age, with its unforgiving pace, leaves minimal room for pause... in reality, who's truly programming whom, right?? perhaps we need a collective system reboot. maybe switching off is the answer... but who has the luxury to truly disconnect and not fear missing out? they call it "fomo," but is it fear or just the pressure to keep up? the idea of stepping away provides momentary relief, but isn’t the return even more overwhelming? seeking the balance seems more of a journey of doubt than certainty. there’s no handbook, no reset button. questions pile up, but does anyone have the answers?? everyone throws around terms like "holistic approach" and "mind-body connection," but does that resonate with you when standing on uneven ground? it’s hard to find a standard metric to validate feeling alive... maybe the question is not "why do i feel like i'm dying," but, "how do we collectively feel less submerged by life?" is there an endpoint, a resolution, or is this the new form of living??? ultimately, it’s a string of questions without real closure. does this align with anyone else's experience??? really keen to hear if this resonates or if i’m swimming upstream alone in this murky ether of uncertainty!!!

Does anyone else’s boyfriend treat weekends like a professional gaming tournament? Mine wakes up, strolls out of the bedroom, and plants himself in front of the TV like he’s clocking in for work. If we have errands, it takes a good half hour of sitting and waiting just to get him to walk out the door. And the moment we’re back? Straight back to the TV like nothing happened. Even ordering dinner becomes a gaming side quest—he’ll half-pick something, pass it to me, and then come back later attempts to continue where we left off 🤦🏻‍♀️

He says he wants to get healthier and lose weight. But so far, his workout routine consists of thumb sprints and the occasional frustrated jump when the game doesn’t go his way. He claims that before we met, he’d work out after work. Honestly? Judging by his current routine, I’m 90% sure he’s talking about a fictional version of himself from an alternate universe. Basically, his life revolves around work, sleep, and the TV. The TV is on from the moment he wakes up until he goes to bed. Honestly I’m so fed up.