Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

How wrong is it to want to write a book about your family without making it obvious?

its not good to see breast cancer clinics as an occult centre but that is what happened to my family. we were singled out and tortured by the staff who wanted to live in our street and abuse us on their drug bender. it was a church bound hospital. that was most of the problem that religion was being wrongly used for sexual depravity and decline and abuses. the crime is there's to own for life behind bars when surgeons do illegal practices and drugs and harvest abuse on the kids of the patient. i can't forgive and won't. and you can't have my house. i will charge you with illegal wrongful surgeries. as it is i had one bad medical one done on me a few years ago and they are still trying to kill me. they sexualised at my vagina and i think gave me an std that i might have to have the other side cut out where the penis poison touched i don't know why they keep doing this to me. as i have not had sex other then forced assault and its been a poophouse journey i didn't ask for . but i think i have legal rights on this and if they keep abusing me. i will talk more to a doctor about all this. cuz to go cut the other side of my vagina from 14 years ago where the other side was cut out cancer cells is a worry and so i am told you can't get stds from toilet seats and sex toys or other things that easy, its actually hard for the virus to live outside the human morphis.

[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.

I never thought I would find myself in this position at 23 years old, sitting in my small apartment, staring blankly at the wall after you walked away without looking back. I mean, we had been together for two and a half years—long enough to have shared countless memories, late-night talks, and dreams about our future. Yet, for some reason, it all unraveled overnight, and it feels surreal that the person I trusted the most decided to end it so abruptly. You said you wanted more space, that you were feeling suffocated instead of supported in our relationship. It felt like a punch to the gut, hearing, “I just think we’ve grown apart,” after we had always talked about how we were each other’s missing puzzle pieces.

Honestly, I can't help but wonder where everything went wrong, or if I failed to see the warning signs along the way. I mean, could it have been my obsession with work, the countless late nights spent at the office, the endless striving to climb the corporate ladder? I understand the strain that can put on a relationship, but I thought we had built a solid foundation—one where we could openly communicate about our needs. Was I too wrapped up in my own ambitions to notice your discomfort? And it nags at me because I know how hard it is to balance personal goals with a partnership. Yet, here we are, and I'm left questioning everything. Did any of it mean anything to you? Did you not feel the emotional connection we always talked about? I can't shake this feeling of doubt that hangs around me like a heavy fog. To be frank, breaking up stings worse than any rejection I've faced in the past. The silence is deafening, and I can still hear your last words echoing in my mind, “Maybe in another life.” Well, I’m now left pondering if that “other life” even exists.

(I'm a teen female) Once a month, we have these small mental health sessions where the same guidance counselor comes in to discuss a mental health topic. Today, she talked about anxiety, and it literally made me realize I have been having mini panic attacks. Like whenever I'm called on, even if I was raising my hand, I will burn up and I feel so anxious and like I'm about to literally explode. Like the heating up starts from my chest and goes almost all the way up. I thought I was just nervous but I guess not. Also I did not say anything about this to the counselor because Iliterally did not want to say any of that in front of people. I probably will another day because I meet her every Monday.

My fiancé and I met at church seven years ago and began seeing each other three years ago. We were both previously married and quietly separated from and divorced our previous spouses. Our separations began before we started dating and our divorces were finalized after we got together.

Due to the timing of the start of our relationship and lack of broadcasting our separations, there was a lot of that judgey church gossip surrounding us being adulterers and homewreckers.

Okay fine, we were not divorced yet and that was not a great thing for us to do. We rushed God's timing and plan and that didn't need to be.

But now that our relationship has gotten more serious (IE visible), it feels like our congregation has shadowbanned us, so to speak. We were both quite active in numerous ministries and elected positions. (You know how 80% of church work is done by 20% of the congregation? We are both in that 20%. Or at least, we'd like to be.)

Over the last year as our relationship has taken off, we have been removed from most of our committees by ways of not being elected to serve another term. With one exception, no one was elected in our places. On an informal/adhoc basis, we are not selected to participate in the worship service ahead of time. If a worship participant does not show up and there is a sudden need for someone to fill in, we are not asked and when we volunteer, we are told no that's okay, someone else will do it. Or no one does it and the service goes on without.

I am finding these actions to be punitive in nature, especially since we are in a small aging congregation where there aren't a lot of people who are able to help out. So to be informally told that no one doing this task is better than one of us doing this task is weird.

The only tasks we have held onto are the major tasks that no one has shown interest in managing instead. The food pantry is a one woman show and the online media streaming is a one man show.

It hurts me that this place we've called our religious home can take our money and our physical labor, but will not allow us to serve our church in a visible capacity anymore. He is content with having less to do, so he isn't bothered the same way I am, but he has noticed the pattern.

I would like to speak to someone at the church about this, but who? I feel like I would just be gaslit. Oh no, that isn't what's happening. We just want other people to have the chance to contribute. But the liturgist pool is 2 people less. Communion takes longer because there are fewer assistants. We use online music when we can't locate an organist or pianist in the community.

It's just. Weird. And I don't know much what to do. I am contemplating church searching after the new year and seeing if a clean slate would do us good.

Am I tripping? Am I not? Is it worth having a conversation with the pastor about? Who knows? Not me.

I was on the subway yesterday, minding my own business as usual, when I overheard this word that really got me thinking. Biromantic??? What in the world is biromantic? 🤔 As someone who strives to stay informed and up-to-date with modern terminologies, this left me completely perplexed. I'm not someone who easily lets things go when I don't understand them, especially if it's a term being used casually by others like it's common knowledge!

I'm pretty open to learning new stuff, but what bugged me was how casually the people were discussing this biromantic thing, almost as if it was as widely understood as something like 'vegetarian' or 'introvert'. They seemed so confident and at ease discussing some aspects of their romantic orientations that I felt a bit embarrassed about my ignorance on the subject. It made me wonder just how many more terms are out there that I'm oblivious to.

Upon returning home, I couldn't help but dive into a little research (yeah, that's just me). To my understanding – though please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong – identifying as biromantic means that an individual experiences romantic attraction towards multiple genders. Not necessarily sexual attraction... Just romance. Huh??? I'm trying anyway to wrap my head around distinguishing between romantic and sexual attractions and how they can exist independently in someone's identity.

In all honesty, it's quite fascinating to witness how human identities continue to evolve over time. It's these kinds of encounters that remind me of how diverse our world truly is! While I'm still processing all of this information (with way too many question marks), I can't help but think back on the conversations I overheard and wonder: should I have interrupted to ask for clarification? But hey–who wants to be that person interrupting strangers mid-discussion on public transportation! 😅

I’m 31, Male, single, no kids. I feel like im at the edge of bridge just waiting to jump. I’m so fucking angry all the time. I really hate the way my life has turned out. I’ve lost every ounce of happiness in my body.

I hate the way I feel I hate the way I live. I’m so tired of it.

I only feel depressed and angry with a short fuse all the time. I’m living with my grandparents and my mother, because my grandparents are in their 80s and my grandfather is going through stages of dementia. It’s sad to see and deal with. He constantly walks around the house looking lost. He can’t do much anymore but is still active (goes grocery shopping, the doctors). He gets confused about basic shit all the time, and we are constantly having to explain the same things over and over again. He’s always trying to do physical work but has 0 strength in his hands. I have to help him all the time, with everything. Now I’m not mad at him for asking for help. But I feel frustrated all the time because I’m trying to balance my life at the same time. I was long time alcoholic/addict. I haven’t drank in 5 years. But I quit smoking weed again about 3 weeks ago.

I’ve been in construction for 10 years and the last 5 have been a blessing and a fucking nightmare. I worked for a small shop, only 5-10 guys max and we have to do everything and we’ve had constant problems, whether it be the guys installing shit wrong and I’m fixing it. The project manager not ordering the correct materials, setting unrealistic goals like being at 2 or 3 different places in the same day to measure, install, make deliveries, all sorts of shit. And when he’s wrong, it’s not as simple as saying “hey this showed up, it’s not enough or this is the wrong part” no you have to build a whole case to PROVE he was wrong. We hit a rough patch the last 2 years because of a piss poor installer, that was their baby, he was stealing hours, installing shit wrong all the time. Never gave a fuck about anything. We fired him and then fired a superintendent that was an asshole to everyone. There have been only 4 guys in the field. And it’s been trying to play catch up, fixing all the problems, trying to take on new jobs, dealing with everything. It never stops and hasn’t. We are all burnt out big time. And it got bad enough to where me and another guy got laid off back in November, and there’s only our foreman and one leadman doing all the work. And the PM just takes time off whenever he wants. So shit isn’t and can’t get done.

I’m pissed off without a job and pissed off with one.

Into my personal life. I quit drinking, quit smoking. I don’t do shit anymore I used to skate when I was younger and go out frequently with my friends. I was only going to work and going home these last 5 years. Barely went on any vacation. And now I just feel so lonely and abandoned, none of my friends invite me to do anything anymore. Like for example my best friend hasn’t called me or anything in months, the last time he called he just wanted to use my truck to help him move into his new apartment, and same for my cousin, haven’t heard from him for months and just called to use my truck. And when I’ve called for help “busy”. Pieces of shit, they don’t remember years ago, when I used to drive them around everywhere, take them to work when they didn’t have a car, listen to all their hardships over the phone. Now when I really need it the most they are busy dealing with life. We fucking all are we all have problems. I’m just so angry at them now. My best friend chooses his Gen Z 20 year old co workers to hangout with. My cousin and his gf (known her for 25 years) is still best friends with my ex gf who was a cheater, mentally ill schizophrenic (not being a dick, she actually is) hooked on Xanax, accusing me of cheating all the time. Constant fighting, multiple 5150s, and just all sorts of shit. It was hell. And I still have dreams about her and it drives me crazy me nuts. When I got sober, I got counseling and therapy and talked about all of this. Why does it still haunt me almost 10 years later?

I feel so scared for my future and everything going on all at the same time. I have constant anxiety, depression and just anger. It makes me not want to do anything but just stay inside but that drives me nuts to. I walk my dog 5 miles everyday, I workout a few times a week. I try to cook all my food from scratch. I try to play video games. I just started reading books again. But it seems like nothing helps. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I feel so fucking alone and so much stress and pressure. I wish I had friends again or gf but I really don’t want to experience anymore bullshit right now.

If this was a hard read for people I’m sorry, my mind is all over the place. I haven’t done anything about these feelings in years just being a man and dealing with it. I was just trying to put as many thoughts out there on paper to help alleviate this feeling. This is my first post idk how this site works yet. Im an open book, I’ll answer any questions you may have. Thanks for reading my jumbled mess.

Ben and I were partners for 15 years, having begun our relationship during our senior year of high school. Tragically, a few months ago, he succumbed to bone cancer. Although we lived in a country where same-sex marriage is unrecognized legally, it wasn't a major issue among the general populace. Ben’s relationship with his parents deteriorated after he openly declared his homosexuality at 17, leading them to expel him from their home. In contrast, my family welcomed him, supported his education, and provided the nurturing environment he needed.

I'm employed in Human Resources, and Ben was a talented IT professional. His skills in the field allowed him to earn a substantial income, enabling him to buy a house ten years ago, for which he single-handedly paid the mortgage. When he was diagnosed with cancer four years ago, he had to cut down on his work hours. Given the circumstances, I began to contribute towards the mortgage payments.

His battle with cancer was strenuous and painful and in March, we lost him to the disease. After his passing, his estranged family reappeared, expressing regret over their lost connection and the missed moments of his life. Things escalated when, a month ago, they asked when I planned to hand over the house keys to them, insisting they had legal rights since same-sex partner rights are not established here.

I informed them that the property was legally under my name, having purchased it from Ben shortly after his cancer diagnosis. This was also to secure that financially, everything would be clear and straightforward. They accused me of being unreasonable and claimed that Ben would have wanted his parents to have the house. Indeed, Ben had hoped the home might mend his fractured relationship with his family and even brought up giving them everything if it meant their reunion.

I suggested to his parents that I could transfer the house ownership to them if they compensated me for the four years of mortgage payments I made and agreed to take on the remaining debt. They reacted badly, indicating they couldn't afford it. They even proposed just taking over the mortgage without compensating me, which I refused. This ended in them threatening legal action against me, alleging that I had manipulated Ben, an accusation that they couldn't substantiate legally.

Since then, they haven't ceased contacting me, insisting it would betray Ben’s memory if I retained the house. While I understand they can’t reimburse me for the investments I made in our home, my conscience is conflicted. Some friends have suggested I should let the house go to find peace, but that just doesn't sit well with me. I know Ben might have desired to give them the house, yet now their demands seem driven not by sentiment but by opportunism. Truthfully, I don’t need the house, yet relinquishing it to them feels fundamentally wrong.

We hadn’t discussed what should happen with the home after his passing, which leaves me wondering: am I wrong for wanting to hold on to it?

If this story were featured on a reality show, the public reaction could be intense and divided. Viewers might sympathize with the emotional and ethical dilemmas I'm facing, yet others could criticize me for not prioritizing what Ben would have likely wanted for his parents. The drama and moral complexities could certainly captivate an audience, leading to hot debates on social media platforms and possibly influencing the viewers' perception of the rights and struggles faced by same-sex couples in similar legal situations.

What I want the most is if you tell me if I know you reveal your identity tell me who you are when we were talking? Let me know some bits and pieces so I can connect it , not revealing your real self and name won't help or I just need to accept the fact that you are just a figment of my imagination and so be it I guess. I need help guys I need to move on the point is moot.

As a nice treat fro myself I've managed to save enough up to reapir and repaint my wheels as they had been beaten by previous owner, 2 days after got all wheel finally done and doing it all my self and money spent on the sanding and painting of the rims and new tyres. I drove down a tight street and trying to avoid another person ended up slowly scraping the curb, so now one of my brand new wheels which I managed to just save up for it ones again scuffed

Alright, here we go. My wife, Laura (35F), and I, Jack (42M) have been together for 14 years. She’s recently completed her training and has finally become a medical doctor in Anesthesiology—it's been a long nine years of university and residency, but now she’s there, and I’m so proud.

I, on the other hand, am a Tuna fisherman and charter owner—a passion that I transformed into a thriving business. I own licenses and operate two boats which I bought when I was much younger, both fully paid off now. I charter these from mid-July through mid-November, charging $2000 per day for each client, and I'm solidly booked years ahead. Though the income is fantastic, it's really the love for the ocean that drives me. It's been my world since my first fishing trip with my dad at the age of 12.

This isn’t just a job to me, it’s the core of who I am. However, now that Laura’s become a doctor, she’s started pressing me to consider selling the business to focus on starting a family and spending more time at home. This demand struck a chord, especially since my profession means being away from home four months each year. Despite her knowing and accepting this from the start of our relationship, it seems that her perspective shifted after her graduation and new job where she mixes with a different social crowd.

My passion for my work led me to secure a prenuptial agreement to protect my business and properties when we married. Laura was never financially strained through her education or personal living as I covered those expenses. It's not about the money—my complaint stems from her newfound insistence that I quit my beloved job to settle into a more domestic role, an idea that I’m just not comfortable with.

Her new doctor circle might look down on my profession, but it's a dignified one that I love and it's funded our lives and her education. Recently, she even proposed moving from our 120-acre family property into a city condo, which is another point of contention between us. I offered a compromise to perhaps spend winters in a condo but hold onto our land, yet this too fails to satisfy.

We have resources to support childcare during my fishing season, but she’s reluctant to consider outside help. Our visions are colliding, and at this rate, I worry for our marriage. I’ve never considered retirement; I planned to eventually pass my business on to my son from an earlier relationship, continuing the legacy I've built.

If I shared this on a reality show, audiences would likely be split, with some supporting my dedication to my craft and others sympathizing with Laura’s desire for more family time. The drama and raw emotion of our situation might even gain viewer support for each side, based on personal values around career and family.

Am I wrong for wanting to keep my career and lifestyle just as she begins to embrace her own professional identity? Can a marriage survive such fundamental disagreements?

Recently I’ve found out I have something called aphantasia, this is where you don’t have a “mental image”. When I close my eyes I don’t actually physcially see anything, which I thought was the norm. I don’t know why, but this has been seriously getting to me. I feel like there’s something wrong with me, and it compounds to making me feel worse because why am I so upset I don’t see pictures when I close my eyes? Also on top of that, I was preparing to go on a dmt trip, something I was so excited for, only to learn people with aphantasia are far less likely to ever break through.

Earlier this week at school, I had an experience that felt overwhelming, and I’m not sure how to explain it. At first, I thought it was a panic attack because my heart was racing, and I felt so on edge. But it went deeper than that. It felt like everyone was watching me—like every move I made was being scrutinized. Even thoughI looks around and everyone’s mouths were shut, I could hear whispering about how I just just die or how I’m walking weird or that I’m ugly. It felt like I had to control every little movement, or people would know that something was wrong with me.

 

Then, there was this moment in the hallway when I felt someone grab my shoulders. I turned around, expecting to see my friend, but there was no one there. I looked behind me more than once, but I still felt that pressure, like hands were there even though I couldn’t see them. It wasn’t just physical; it felt like someone was standing behind me, and the sensation wouldn’t go away.

 

My emotions were completely out of control. I couldn’t focus on anything, and my mind was racing so fast it was hard to process what was happening around me. When people tried to talk to me, it felt impossible to keep up with a conversation. I could only respond with one or two words, and even that felt like a huge effort.

 

It got so bad I’d look at a wall, and it seemed like it was moving, almost rippling. My brain would pick out random scribbles or patterns and turn them into faces or shapes, like it was trying to make sense of things that weren’t really there. It was beyond terrifying and terrifying, but I didn’t feel like I could explain it to anyone. But it felt like I was losing myself

 

After school, I went straight to my car, but I couldn’t even drive. I just sat there, completely, talking to myself. I’m not even sure how long I was sitting there—I lost track of time. Eventually, my sister called because she was worried about me not being home. Her call kind of snapped me out of it enough to drive home, but the feeling of being trapped in my own head stayed with me for the rest of the day.

 

My father passed away not too long ago, and his death brought not only sorrow but also unexpected pressures from my family. My parents divorced when I was young, after my father discovered that my mother was having an affair with who now is my stepdad. My mom and stepdad married, and my stepsister, whom I'll refer to as Stella, became part of my life through this union. Frankly, my relationship with them has always been strained, as I couldn't shake off the role they played in disrupting my family's harmony.

My dad was quite successful and managed to save a considerable sum intending for it to support significant milestones in my life such as college fees, wedding expenses, first home, etc. Everything, including his estate, car, investments, retirement funds, and even his cherished cat, was left for me in his will.

A week ago, Stella came to me with a request that left me irate. She asked me to help out with her college fees, citing the usual dilemma: our parents earning too much for government aid but not enough to comfortably cover tuition costs. I refused unequivocally, stating that she should wait for her own inheritance if circumstances permitted. This didn’t sit well with her or our parents, who later confronted me to plead for financial assistance on her behalf. The argument escalated, and I was frankly told to leave if I could not "act like a generous sister."

Acting on their ultimatum, I moved back into my dad's house, taking with me all personal belongings I had at my mom's place. Since then, I’ve received numerous texts from my mom, stepdad, Stella, and other relatives, all painting me as selfish and heartless for not supporting Stella’s education.

Contemplating over the heated exchanges and the outright demands, it feels surreal, almost as if I am cast in a reality show. If this were a televised drama, the audience might be divided. Some viewers might sympathize with my commitment to honor my dad’s wishes, while others could vilify me for not aiding my stepsister. The tension, emotional outbursts, and moral dilemmas would certainly make for engaging TV, but that doesn't simplify my turmoil in real life.

Am I wrong to stand my ground on this?