Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know why I’m like this. I just got out of another conversation with my parents and the moment they said “you go to church and you lie” I just got emotional and ran away. And marched into my room screaming. Unfortunately I have a problem with telling people the truth to my parents but I don’t do it out malicious I don’t because I’m scared.

I’m scared of being an adult

I’m scared of getting a license

And I’m scared of living alone

But why

Why can’t anyone understand me?

I feel like a monster because that’s all I am

A big giant no driving lying monster.

Sometimes I wonder what happened if I just never existed. Would Everything be different would everyone be happy.

Because I’m the problem cans I can’t even fucking save myself.

I’m turning 40 this year! Hubby said he would love to do something nice for me but doesn’t know how and asked for my help. I like to think he wants me to choose a venue and he can take it from there, maybe? Or how much help does he need? How much of this will I be planning? I would like it to be from him; idc if it’s a surprise party or not. We have a good relationship but I wonder how much he really knows me. I told him to ask my girlfriends for help. But we do have this relationship rule where we don’t text or talk to people of the opposite sex alone without the other CCd or around in person. Fair enough. So how can I encourage him to do this on his own? For the big 4-0, I don’t want to have to be involved unless asked “which flavor cake would you like?” Lol

For his 40th, I asked my party planning friends for help. I’m not super creative but they helped me narrow down some ideas and we pulled off a nice get-together with some friends and family. No biggie. We aren’t ones for huge Hollywood-style shindigs. I’m not asking for anything big. It just really bothered me he is asking ME for help to plan MY birthday. How can I respond to him without sounding like a spoiled brat?

Have you ever felt like life is just going downhill??? That's been my vibe lately, but I'm holding out hope that things will turn around. I got this job that seemed perfect at first glance, but it's been nothing short of chaotic LOL! It's like everyday feels like an upward battle only to find myself rolling down the hill. I'm doing my best, but sometimes I just feel so overwhelmed!!! The pressure is like a constant companion, but I'm learning to take it all in stride. 😅 Life's got its tricky parts, doesn't it?!

Guess what though? Despite the struggles, I'm determined to see the silver lining!!! I keep reminding myself that every descent down the hill is just an opportunity to climb back up again with even more gusto. The ups and downs, they're all part of the journey, right? It's kinda cool to think that each slip is making me stronger in some way. I mean, how else are we supposed to grow if not through challenges??? It might be tough, but I'm ready to take it on day by day. Keep movin', keep groovin' - that's what they say, right?

But hey, don't get me wrong, I'm all about finding the chill vibes where I can. 🎵😊 I try to soak in the positive energy, listen to some good tunes, and keep the optimism alive. Maybe it's not always as smooth as I'd like, but there's beauty in the chaotic dance of things. I'm confident that eventually, all this crazy will shape into something amazing. As I continue on this winding path, I'm embracing everything with a hopeful heart, ready for whatever comes next!!! How's that for staying upbeat, huh? Keep climbing, my friend, there's always a brighter side waiting for us!!!

This is probably going to be my final post anyway let me get into it.( for my context check my last post) Currently I’m just in the idgaf stage Ive truly lost pretty much lost a lot of hope almost all of it. I’m also just at the point where I don’t care to get better, I don’t want to get better, and I don’t want better for myself. I’m considering distancing myself from everyone(including friends,family, even teachers) and potentially cut off people as a whole. I’m also going to refrain from making new friends and telling people how I feel period it’s no one’s business. Honestly my plan going forward Is to just turn myself in and do my time and then after I finish my time I’ll kill myself. And my goal for being an astronomer is most likely dead at this point I’ll probably be dead before then and not do I really want to put in the effort to achieve it and improve my math skills so basically I’ve given up on it and to be honest it’s upsetting to think about. I’m also pretty apathetic and resistant to the idea of therapy now I’ve accepted that I don’t want to get better and it would be a waste of money for my family members to even pay for it because I wouldn’t cooperate and I would be hard to work with and it would also be a waste of time for the therapist. Anyway that’s all I wanted to say and I appreciate those who gave me support on my last post.

Yesterday, I ventured out to a Vietnamese eatery and decided to order a bowl of the traditional noodle dish “Pho”. I made a point to ask the staff to skip the spring onions since I really can't stand them - it’s not an allergy, I just dislike their flavor intensely. When I was younger, around the age of 10, my mother made numerous attempts to get me accustomed to eating spring onions because she didn't want me to be fussy with food. Unfortunately, each attempt ended with me feeling sick.

However, despite my specific request, my dish arrived dotted with spring onions. This was not the first time this issue occurred at this restaurant; last time I ended up picking the onions out by myself. After that experience, the noodles were too soggy from soaking up the broth and the overall flavor was compromised. This time around, I opted to not repeat the ordeal. I politely called over the server, explained the situation and handed back my bowl to have it corrected. The server was understanding and took it back to the kitchen, asking me to patiently wait for a corrected bowl.

In contrast, my sister immediately voiced her frustration, pointing out my fussiness especially since the restaurant was quite busy. She argued that I should have just dealt with the unwanted onions rather than causing additional trouble and potentially wasting food. Her comments certainly made the remainder of the meal uncomfortable.

Reflecting on the situation, I can't help but wonder if maybe I did overreact slightly, especially since I had been having a really tough week and might not have been in the best state of mind. However, I'd genuinely appreciate others' thoughts on this. Was I really being unreasonable?

Imagine if this incident had taken place on a reality TV show, with cameras capturing every moment and audiences tuning in from their homes. The tension and drama would certainly be heightened. Viewers might sympathize with my aversion to onions or they might align with my sister, viewing me as overly particular or disruptive. It's interesting to ponder whether public opinion would sway in my favor or if I'd be criticized for my insistence on removing a simple ingredient.

I feel like shit. I just took my first exam of this semester and I don't feel like I did well. For some background I am currently in the highest level accounting course in my school and opted to take a 7 week course while also working full time. The class started 10 days ago and I ended up getting a 76% on this exam. I am beating myself up and berating myself because I feel like I should have done better and I want some chocolate or something to bring my mood up but I feel like I can't let myself try to feel better because I'm subconsciously telling myself that it's okay to get Cs on exams. And I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I work 40 hours a week and accounting courses can be hard and 10 days isn't a lot of time to learn a bunch of material. But this isn't a STEM major (I'm an accounting major) and I didn't use my time well. I should have reviewed more of the material and gone over the reading more before taking the exam. I just can't justify letting myself be comforted about my performance on this exam. I don't know what to do. I can't just give up, this is my last accounting course. How do I move past this feeling?

So one time I had been with my parents and younger brother on a trip to see my cousins. On the way, we stopped by our grandparents to relax. We were downstairs in the basement, me, my parents, brother and grandparents. I accidentally hurt my brother by tripping him when I was on the couch and he walked on my foot. He fell hit his head and I came down to see if he was ok. Then my mother ran down, got on her knees and held him like he was about to die. Meanwhile, I have never had something like that happen to me. Then, as I tried to apologize to him, my mother said and I quote, “no one wants to hear your fake apologizes” I was stunned. I sat there for a good minute, and tried to correct myself saying” I didn’t mean to sound that way, I-“ and she interrupted me saying “Don’t make excuses, you know your in the wrong”. I was shocked, I stared at her and I glanced at my brother, who even looked at me and then at her, with a look that said “you took this too far”. Behind me was the rest of my family and grandparents, who saw everything, and I started to hold back tears. The last thing she said to me was “You don’t deserve to cry”. I looked at my dad, knowing this wasn’t the only time he sat and watched they way my mother talked to me and traumatized me. I told them “I don’t fell like playing anymore, have fun” trying to sound okay, and went upstairs. I stayed in the bathroom, all alone, hearing my mother babying my Brother in a way she doesn’t do for me or did to me when I was his age. I stayed there, shocked for hours and didn’t want to leave. No one checked on me, no one cared, and the hours later they called for me. Reluctant, I went downstairs and they acted like nothing happend. My brother was the only one who came up to me and said “I know you weren’t being mean and you did try to apologize. I’m sorry mom did that” I tried to hold back tears when I hugged him, knowing he was the only one who saw what she did was wrong. To this day if my mom says “I know your probably going to say j favorite your younger brother but I don’t” and this is the first thing of many that come to mind. I just wanted to get this story off my chest, your knot alone in the bias. Let me know if I’m just being stuck up and this is blown out of proportion. Thank you for listening.

At 26 years old, I find myself wandering through a labyrinth of ideologies that pit spirituality against organized religion; it’s as bewildering as trying to navigate a dense fog with no clear path ahead. A few weeks ago, I attended a church service that was supposed to be uplifting—the pastor eloquently spoke about love, grace, and the importance of community. I expected to feel enlightened, but instead, I dragged myself home feeling empty. I remember thinking, “Is this it? Is this what faith is supposed to feel like?” Similarly, on another day, I swayed to the rhythms of a local spiritual gathering that promised enlightenment through meditation and collective energy. People were chanting and holding hands, seeking connections beyond the physical. I wanted to feel that current of cosmic energy flowing through me, but instead, I was plagued by the nagging thought: “What if all of this is just a placebo effect?” It’s frustrating to oscillate between these two worlds—each with its proponents vigorously asserting their narratives while dismissing the other’s merit. A good friend once remarked, “Being religious means believing in something, whereas being spiritual means believing in everything,” which left me more puzzled than ever. Is it possible that these categories are merely constructs that serve to confine the vastness of human experience? Honestly, I don’t know; the ambiguity is suffocating. Just the other night, I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, surrounded by a hodgepodge of religious texts and spiritual books, feeling like I was compiling a thesis on a subject I barely understood. I skimmed some passages—Buddha’s teachings on mindfulness contrasted starkly with the heavy doctrines of the Catholic faith; one promised inner peace, the other eternal salvation. It's like choosing between two different types of refuge, both equally enticing yet fundamentally distinct. One may claim, “Follow your personal truth,” but what if your truth is yet to be discovered or, worse, fabricated? ✨

Why is it so difficult to harmonize these beliefs? In the pursuit of clarity, I’ve engaged in endless debates with friends who identify as yogis or fundamentalists; they each argue fiercely for their path, yet here I am, stuck in a perpetual limbo. One afternoon, I found myself in a particularly disconcerting conversation with a devout Muslim woman who discussed the beauty of prayer and community while I could not help but admire her dedication yet felt a pang of longing for the fluidity of spirituality that evades rigid structures. Is a structured belief system inherently restrictive? Or does it provide guidance where spirituality assumes an almost abstract, chaotic essence? I frequently ponder if these traditions are mere vessels of cultural heritage, and how absurd is it that instead of embracing the richness of diverse practices, I find myself shackled in indecision? I often wonder if faith is merely an escapade into the unknown, shrouded in the allure of transcendence but ultimately leading us back to the same existential questions: What is our purpose? What happens when we die?

As I exercise my cognitive faculties to decode the meanings of ‘spirituality’ versus ‘religion,' I can’t shake off the dire feeling that I’m constructing a metaphysical house of cards that could collapse with just the slightest breeze of doubt. “Why do I have to choose when possibly it’s all just an intricate tapestry of beliefs?” I silently scream to the universe, hoping for an answer that never comes. I turn to books, podcasts, and online courses—each touting formulas for a fulfilling spiritual life or an unwavering faith—but do they actually coalesce? Or am I just grasping at straws, hoping for a divine revelation that appears to allude me? I grapple with the paradox that my quest for truth grows heavier with the weight of expectation and self-imposed timelines; I find myself frantically circling back to my fundamental question: Do I desire the grounded morals of religion, or the expansive possibilities of spirituality? Each evening, I lay awake, hoping that someday both worlds can harmonize, creating a holistic framework that resonates with my soul rather than trapping it; Feeling lost has never felt more suffocating. It begs the question: Is anyone else out there wrestling with this dissonance? Does anyone grapple with whether to leap into the arms of tradition or float in the vast ocean of spirituality?

the Mayor is a busy and hardworking man on my street who has taken it upon himself to police us little people from his house on the hill.

I used to be really good friends with his daughter. growing up we were always together, I was over their house a lot like she was over mine so I'm not really sure what made him lose his mind.. perhaps he got old. maybe he was always crazy and was born with it.. I remember hearing about his brother who lost his mind MANY years back, apparently his brother beat a few men senseless.. all went to the hospital except for one... then he went to jail.

I remember all the times the people littering would drive him crazy. all the times he got in his car and followed people to their homes to throw the garbage they dropped into their car windows or on their lawns, how he made large colorful signs and found ways to zip tie garbage cans to the stop signs and telephone poles on the corners.

I remember hearing about his daughter... from his daughter, my friend, and I was so confused. I thought she was talking about herself in third person until I realized she had a sister much older than her that went to the same school as I did and who ran away from home because her parents were way too crazy. she said that her room was originally a different room but as soon as her sister left, climbing through the window and out onto the deck, they redid the room and moved her in there, putting big things like trees and a gazebo to block the windows. she said from that point on her parents were different, they hovered and lingered more, they pulled her out of school and enrolled her in expensive private school, blaming the public school for not only her sister's disobedience but probably the sister's gayness as well. I remember her parents installing cameras around the inside of their house as well as secretly having spyware in the TV's, phones and computers to record times, conversations, passwords.... she found out because we shared account information for a game that we were playing together so sometimes I would go on her character to collect things for her or level her up, vice versa. she said that whenever one of her friends would comment about a sign on at a weird time for her she would just assume it was me... until she signed on my account to help me out by collecting when I got punished for something I didn't do or deserve. she had never signed on my account before so she thought everything was ok.... then her mom, the same lady who would slap her openly in a store or yell and embarrass her in front of classmates and friends, asked her if she had anything to say for herself.. anything she was hiding or lying about. of course she was confused, she had no idea what was happening and her mother probably didn't explain anything either. she ended up grounded and started to ask to use my phone and computer more often, even when we were over her house. She admitted to me that she was using my stuff to talk to some guy she had a crush on and that she hid the number of an unapproved guy in the hole in her wall she got from kicking a soccer ball in the house. when her dad found out the whole only got bigger, he called that kid countless times over a week threatening him and then made a deal with her that if he would answer her call and talk to them they would allow her to see him again but of course he never answered the phone. gradually we stopped hanging out with all the activities they had her doing but at some point I had graduated from school and she was going to too. They were going to throw this huge party for her and invite their friends and family but days before he flipped out on my family about our fence.

At the time, before we even knew about plans for a party.. it was Spring and we had wanted to replace the rotted out pieces of fence before the dogs got out. We weren't going to ask for money but since it was originally his fence that he put and we shared that one side, we figured it would be safe just to let them know. From what I heard it went well, the mayor had said he wanted to fix it but with him being a really good handyman and master carpenter his back was shot, he asked for some time, again no worries we weren't asking him to fix it or anything. we actually needed more time to decide on the fence since we were going to go for the full perimeter fence and not just at one side or section. he said nothing about a party and nothing about not having money, we weren't even asking for money.

weeks went by and with no word from him we decided to go ahead and order the fence. it took days to be delivered and once it was delivered it look another few days to put it up ourselves. they didn't offer help or money, we didn't ask. we did it fast like that not only for our dogs but also not to really inconvenience anyone. just as we finished the fence and planting some of the plants and flowers we got it had started raining hard so we went inside. apparently this bothered the mayor. it rained the rest of the day... let's say it was a Sunday with work the next day, obviously no one came out for the rest of the night to do anything with the fence. the next day, Monday all day people would be working.. at least on our side. the mayor can't work long with his back apparently.

we came back home to the mayor's wife waiting for us. she nicely but very awkwardly said that we should finish the fence because they were going to be having a party Friday. we apologized for the inconvenience and finished the fence, planting some more before it got dark and rained again. the same thing happened, the mayor was unhappy thinking we left garbage for him to clean or didn't care much about his property even though it was raining. Tuesday it rained so the progress was halted but Wednesday we went back after work to fix a panel of the fence, we were even nice enough to plant some flowers on their side of the fence, put some dirt and fertilizer with grass seed down too ..yeah it wouldn't grow until later but it was something right? we were happy with the job on both sides and sealed the fence again, officially done with the fence. no one said anything, no one gave money... the next day Wednesday or Thursday he went out there and ripped all the flowers we planted on his side out, he moved all the dirt away and blew the seeds away. we didn't say anything to them about it. they got ready for their party on Friday and partied all weekend long... some time during the next week he typed out an anonymous note with all of our transgressions from living next to them and put it in our mailbox. we knew it was him right away and when we asked him about it he played dumb and then him and my stepdad had a screaming match outside. for the next few days he would randomly walk out on his deck, yell out of his house windows or from his porch "YOU'RE MAKING ME FIGHT WITH MY FAMILY" and play loud music in his house and in his yard and cars. he would prank call the police like if we were doing it and set off his car alarms and put car alarms at all hours too. to this day he's never apologized, his wife never apologized or said anything about his behavior, same like his daughter. I thought at the very least she would say something but no. he's dead to us, they all are.. but his behavior has only gotten worse. he's nitpicked other neighbors and sent them letters and had screaming matches in the front yard.. to the point where he messed with a Mexican and you had ALLLLL the Spanish from the area on our block and in his yard at 3am shirtless, chasing him around screaming... even the Spanish women were out there cursing them while holding their kids.

Its about my boyfriend. I dont want to talk bad about them because they're dealing with some stuff mentally and emotionally, mostly anxious problems. But I just hate hate it when I spend an hour waiting for him. I would be ok if the cafe was a one off thing but no. We've had multiple dates where I waited for him for an hour or almost an hour. Its not like I go on time sometimes, even I am late on the agreed time, mostly 5-10 minutes late because I really dont like making people wait for me. but when I get there he isn't there yet.

Its just... Once I managed to wait an hour on the mall we agreed to go to, walk all the way to his home, its quite close maybe 10-15 minutes with the pace I was going, and wait for more time before I even saw him get out of his house hair wet from shower. I understand he also has chores but that was just ridiculous.

But since my parents dont really know about us.. I always had to be creative and set time that wont be too late or too early, reasoning it as me needing to buy something for school, so the time is even more needed to be followed if you get me. His parents also dont know so we usually agree on a set time the day before. Rarely we agree on hanging out on the same day but when we do ita usually atleast 3hrs before..

But really I should've known better after dating him for almost 3 years now. He's the type to be late even on our own graduation, he barely made it with his mom before his name was called.

What's more upsetting about the cafe this is that its currently summer, that means I don't even have that much excuses to go out because I dont have projects to buy supplies for or no study groups to go to. We had a meeting for our school's journalism club for some reason which was, although cancelled, was a good excuse to leave the house.

I just feel like I should be more understanding but it's really upsetting checking my phone every five minutes for a text that says he'd be late or something. Sometimes I even get worried he wont show up at all.

I've been on this wild journey of self-discovery, and honestly, what a trip it’s been figuring out my damn sexuality. Like, one minute I’m crushing hard on this girl in my class, we vibe so well, and then the next, I’m drooling over some guy in a coffee shop, and I’m like, "what the actual heck is happening?" It’s like I’m a walking contradiction, and if anyone’s got a spare manual on this kinda stuff, hit me up! So, I’ve been trying labels on for size – bisexual, pansexual, queer – but nothing feels quite right; each label seems to fit like a shoe from the clearance rack at a thrift store, you know? One day I’m in the mood for a romantic comedy featuring a fierce female lead, the next, I’m binging on some brooding male anti-hero drama. Heck, I’ve even Googled “what is my sexuality?!” like a million times, coz surely the internet knows better than me, right? 😂 It feels like an episode of "Queer Eye" gone wrong, where they’re just yelling, “Love yourself, you’re fabulous!” while I’m over here like, “Thanks, but can I just get some clarity?” I remember this one time my best friend said, “You can love whoever the hell you want,” and I thought, wow, she’s onto something. Why do I even need a label? It’s like trudging through a minefield of expectations, assumptions, and stereotypes, and let’s face it, some people are so bent on shoving you into a specific box, it’s nauseating. We have “The Kinsey Scale,” which is cool and all, but I sometimes feel like saying, “Screw the scale, I’m just vibing.” I read somewhere that sexuality is fluid, and it makes total sense; I mean, one moment you’re in love with the idea of a picnic with a girl, and then suddenly you're all about a romantic evening with a dude and a bottle of wine. So, like, what am I? Do I really need to label it? Labels seem helpful, but they also seem restrictive. It’s a double-edged sword. And dating? Ugh, don’t even get me started. Trying to navigate that landscape feels like climbing Mount Everest without gear. Swipe left, swipe right, and the anxiety? It’s crippling. And the worst part is when someone asks, “So, what do you identify as?” and I’m like, “How about a hot mess?” You know that awkward moment when you’re honestly reflecting and you just want to scream “I’m just me?!” Sometimes I think, “Do I have to pick a side?” and the answer seems to be no. I mean, is it really that serious? Like, I read a quote that said, “Sexuality is like a rainbow: it’s made up of many colors,” and that resonates so much. I wanna play with all the colors! So anyway, I’m embracing whatever this is, because life’s too short to stress about it, right? I’ve had those nights where I just wanna melt into my blankets, binge-watch my favorite shows, and cry about confusing romance. It’s rough; I've asked myself if I'm overthinking it or if I’m just, I don’t know, bored with the binary? 😕 Some days I just want a partner who gets my latest obsession with true crime documentaries and how I think pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity. Why are we so obsessed with labeling everything? Can’t it just be about feelings and vibes? I might still be in the thick of figuring this out, but I’m cool with that now; it’s part of the journey, and the journey is kinda beautiful in its chaos. Who’s with me on this? Anyone else feeling the weight of the world’s expectations, but also finding joy in the messiness of it all? Nobody should feel cornered or pressured to fit into a neat little label, I mean, “Sexuality is a spectrum, not a straitjacket,” right? Let’s enjoy the ride, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll discover that love comes in all shapes and sizes – and sometimes, it’s just about being open to whatever floats your boat;

I'm 16 and my mom has been telling me to kill myself. I might as well consider it. There is no point in anything I really want things to end.

But despite every curse from this fuckass universe,

I want to know how it feels like to grow up and live

I want to know it feels like to NOT feel like this

I still want to watch new seasons of my favourite shows

I still want to taste flavours which Ive never tried

I still want to read many books

And i still want to watch my little siblings grow

If i die now,

I will be selfish enough to not consider the well being of my siblings

Maybe I'll be more of a burden, only dead

Maybe i will be cursed till the depths of hell for all the money i made them waste on me.

No matter what, i just know that i never wanted any of this

I just wish my parents were more than the title itself

My friend and landlord, Jeff, has always been close since we share a workplace and live next door to each other. We are both family men; Jeff has six children between the ages of five months and sixteen, whereas I have four, with the eldest being thirteen and the youngest at seven months. Recently, Jeff embarked on a full-scale renovation of his home, seeking my help in exchange for reducing my rent by $300 monthly. It seemed beneficial, so with my wife’s initial blessing, I started assisting him after work every day, except Sundays.

After work, I usually drop by my house to check on my wife and kids, then head to Jeff's place to lend a hand. The remodel includes updates to the living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and the bathroom. About a week ago, however, tensions began to rise at home. My wife became unsettled after seeing me chat and laugh with Jeff's wife from our window. She felt neglected, accusing me of favoring the company of another woman. Despite my reassurances that there was nothing between Jeff's wife and me, my wife remained unconvinced. To avoid further conflict, I started avoiding eye contact whenever Jeff’s wife approached me, but this did little to alleviate my wife's distress. She refused to join me next door because she was uncomfortable around their poorly trained, overly energetic pitbull.

Matters escalated last Saturday when Jeff took a break to prepare dinner for his family, extending an invitation to me. After sharing a meal with them, I returned home to find my wife upset upon learning I had already eaten. She discarded the meal she had prepared for me and refused to converse with me for the remainder of the evening. The next day, during dinner, she pointedly mentioned there wasn’t enough food for me, suggesting I had plans to dine with Jeff’s family again. Her anger was palpable as she accused me of spending more time helping next door than at our home. Despite my attempts to explain that my interactions with Jeff’s wife were minimal and purely for assistance with chores, I awoke to discover that my wife and children had left, taking most of their belongings.

Feeling isolated, I reached out to my wife, only to receive cold responses disregarding my concern. Now, communication has ceased altogether, leaving me in a state of confusion and regret over the choices I made.

Imagine if this drama unfolded on a reality show, capturing each intense moment and confrontation. Viewers might rally behind my situation sympathetically or they might critique my obliviousness to my wife’s growing resentment. The dynamics of household and neighborly interactions would certainly keep an audience engaged, speculating on each character's next move and discussing the complexities of relationship trust and communication.

How should I address this mess with my wife effectively, considering the damage already done?

I don't know where to start, but it feels heavy, and it always happens quite sometimes now. Am I the problem? Am I the bad daughter? Please enlighten me and give me some advice, I'm a working student, I work at the university, and in exchange, I'm only paying my tuition fee of 1,000. So that's why I can't no longer help with the house chores anymore, but I will help once I get the free time. Sometimes I do all of our laundry on Sunday so that I can at least help. But I think it wasn't enough because all of what I heard from my mother is always nagging and telling me that I no longer help with the house chores, and now I'm lazy. It feels heavy right now because my mother and I is fighting as a while ago

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

Here I Go Again haha. I told you how I fell in love with a man much older than me who showed me high expectations. He was attentive, loving, kind, everything a woman wants.

As time went on, he got what he wanted, which was to win me over, and he began to show disinterest in me.

During the process, I saw many red flags, and in that outburst, I recounted how bad it felt when he didn't talk to me. I couldn't leave him because every time I tried, it was a sadness that killed me inside, and I wasn't able to stay in bed for days, feeling very bad.

Obviously, I wasn't going to die, but it's something you don't know how to handle. Sadness, no matter how much you try to deceive yourself, exists in the chest, in the head. Even those who've been through it know that it's also felt in the heart.

I didn't know what to do to end it because the relationship continued, but I was having a hard time. I decided to talk about it, and he told me in simple, blunt words that he didn't have any feelings for me and that he just wanted to have a good time. I understood everything perfectly. What I'm thinking is that there will be a door of feelings, showing affection and love, knowing that they will leave the person later.

It doesn't matter, maybe I idealized too much. I was confused, but what all this leads me to are some questions:

Why does it hurt so much? Life goes on.

Why so much dependence on someone who doesn't show interest?

I saw my mother die with my own eyes, and this hurts me more?

I came to the conclusion that my father abandoned me when I was young. My mother, even though I was with her until the last moment, left me at a train station and left me for 14 years. My grandmother kicked me out when I asked for shelter because I was homeless!

I became a mother for the first time, and my father left me alone during the entire pregnancy and childbirth.

I wanted to start a family, but he went with another family.

My pain is the abandonment I've always suffered and I can't get over it because I met this person who gave me all the affection I never received, and I didn't want to lose her.

Obviously, throughout my horrible life, I had addiction problems, and because of this, I've gone back to using drugs almost every day. Simply put, I want to die because I fell back into a job I had, and now it's worse. If I don't have drugs, I go crazy, my body shakes, and I become violent.

The End

P.S.: Never abandon anyone. Be clear, show love, but clearly. And if you're a man, don't abandon your children. Damn you.