Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

i've always been told i'm too skinny; like, what does that even mean? i mean, can a person ever be too skinny? it's not like i'm starving myself or anything. i'm just seventeen. so let me set the scene: i stare into my closet and think about all the clothes that look weird because they hang off my frame like i'm some sort of hanger; everything meant to fit snug and cute, instead, it looks like a cheap mannequin display. i'm a girl who loves fashion magazines, but every article about the size zero models makes me feel inadequate and yet too adequate at the same time. it's crazy, isn't it? instead of being happy with my body, i'm constantly criticized by strangers, "eat a cheeseburger" they say with a laugh that tastes as sour as unwarranted judgment. i roll my eyes at those ignorant remarks, but deep down, it leaves a mark, like a permanent tattoo of self-doubt. even my doctor, who's supposed to be reassuring, goes on about my body mass index, like "girl, i know it's below average, but i eat". it's not like i want to be this way, trust me if i could add a few pounds in a blink, i totally would. have you seen how people treat those with curves? like they’ve discovered the holy grail of acceptance; what a world we live in. in gym class, i'm that girl who avoids the scales and cringes at the sight of a tape measure. the reaction from others is usually a mix of concern and envy, both equally unsettling. ever tried sitting at a dinner table with someone who scrutinizes your plate? "is that all you're eating?" – gosh, yes Karen, that’s all i’m eating today, move on! i can't help but feel like "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" where nothing is just right. why is it acceptable to comment on someone being thin but taboo to mention excess weight? what sort of double standard is this society serving us? casually people assume my life is perfect, just because i'm a size that can squeeze into whatever's on the sale rack. my friends talk about thigh gaps and diet fads, but i’d kill just to fill out a pair of jeans properly. dude, ever heard of "skinny shaming"? it's real, and it sucks. the body positivity movement is powerful, and i believe in it, but hey, it’s selective sometimes. everyone rallies for "all shapes and sizes", until it’s a shape and size they think doesn't fit into their narrative. i get it though – i'm not complaining about my health or anything, i know i'm lucky, but can we talk about how i feel for a moment? once, during a biology lecture about metabolism rates, i flinched at the professor’s words, imagining the class thinking i’m some anomaly. when did this competitive, comparative analysis become our new norm? no one seems to grasp that metabolism isn't just another word for magic tricks, it's basic biology, yet i feel judged by my own cellular processes. how insane is that? magazine covers might say "thin is in," but try being seventeen and "in" feels like living under a microscope where every move is critiqued, not celebrated. everyone wants me to meet their subjective ideal instead of accepting the fluctuating, unpredictable human form i house. sometimes i wonder if it’ll ever change, or if i’ll just become more desensitized to the pokes and jabs over time. maybe i've been quoting too much Sartre, who knows, i’m just trying to navigate this minefield called adolescence with a sense of humor and a thick skin thinner than i’d like it to be. at least i know i’m not alone in this, the internet forums prove that – lots of underweight teens encouraging and sharing tips and stories to empower one another. we need more of that solidarity, don't you think? so, what's the verdict, internet stranger? any revolutionary tips for a girl who's frustrated, tired of being quantified by caloric intake and body fat percentage when really, she just wants enough room to be herself? after all, life’s complicated enough without having to wage a war with the scale every morning. 🥺

I’m 41, my wife told me last year that she cheated on me, and I’m still mad as hell about it; it’s been eating at me every single day, and I can’t figure out how to get over it no matter what I do. She sat me down and confessed like it was some noble act of honesty, like I should clap for her bravery because she finally told the truth, but the timing was absolute bullshit—she kept it hidden for over a year, and I was living like a clueless idiot thinking our marriage was solid, meanwhile she carried this secret around like a loaded gun aimed right at me. Now every time I look at her, I see betrayal, every time she touches me, I feel disgust, and every time she says “I’m sorry” I want to scream in her face that sorry doesn’t cut it, not even close. People keep throwing advice at me: “Go to therapy,” “Work on forgiveness,” “If you love her, you’ll get through this.” Do you know how empty that sounds when you’re the one living with the images in your head, the constant mental slideshow of her with someone else? I’m supposed to be calm, rational, mature about it, but all I want to do is smash something every time I remember what she did. I don’t give a damn about psychology terms or self-help mantras, because none of that makes the rage stop, none of that makes me trust her again. I still love her, and I hate that I do, because it makes me feel weak and pathetic, like I’m tolerating something no man should tolerate. I’ve read quotes like “Forgiveness is for yourself, not for them,” but what does that even mean in practice? Forgiveness feels like saying it’s okay, and it’s not okay. Forgiveness feels like lowering my own value just to patch up something that should never have been broken in the first place. Maybe cheating is “a symptom of deeper issues” like people say, maybe she felt disconnected, maybe she was insecure, maybe she was bored, but I honestly don’t care what the excuses are—at the end of the day, she chose it, she decided I wasn’t enough, and that decision lives in my chest like a damn parasite feeding off me every single day. I can’t stop imagining it, I can’t stop asking myself questions I don’t even want the answers to: Did she enjoy it? Did she think about me while it was happening? Did she laugh at me behind my back? Sometimes I catch myself staring at her across the table, wondering how many more lies I don’t know about, wondering if she even respects me or if she just fears losing the comfortable life we’ve built. It makes me sick that she can sleep peacefully next to me while I lie awake at 3 a.m. replaying everything like some endless punishment reel in my brain. Friends tell me time heals, but right now time feels like torture, just dragging the wound open again and again, and I don’t feel closer to healed—I feel stuck, like I’m living in some half-life where nothing feels solid anymore. I look at other couples and wonder how many of them are hiding the same crap, how many smiles are just masks covering betrayal. Do you think it’s possible to ever really get over being cheated on, or do you just learn to live with the scar? Because honestly, I don’t know how to let this go without losing a part of myself, and I’m not sure if that’s worth it. Everyone says marriage takes work, but this isn’t “work,” this is demolition, and I’m being asked to rebuild on a foundation that’s already cracked and rotting. She swears she loves me, she swears it was a mistake, she swears she’ll never do it again—but how do you believe words from a mouth that already lied for so long? Sometimes I think leaving would be easier, just walk away, burn it down, start over, but then I think of the years together, the memories, the stupid little routines we built, and I feel paralyzed. I hate this limbo. I hate that she did this to me. And I hate that no matter what I decide, I’ll never be the same again 🤬

so I've been friends with her for about 3 years, and I'm not even over exaggerating when I say she has no concept of things beyond what she has experienced. she literally thought sore teeth didn't exist because she never had them. so anyway she judges me for practically everything I do, and I swear its like she struggles being happy for me, when I literally went on call with her to give her advice while she was talking to a guy, listened and hyped her up for three days straight when the guy was all she ever talked about. so recently when we were volunteering these two guys came up to us and one was tall and kinda cute and the other was not ugly but he looked like REALLY young like out little brothers young, and the tall guy asked for my number and the short one asked for hers. I was already looking at her though because she has pulled all the guys in the past so I didn't even expect one to ask for my number. so afterwards we kinda just went on with what we were doing and she kept calling them chopped chuz when mine wasn't acc chopped... so like I kinda just acclimated to what she was saying and agreed but she literally wouldn't stop calling them chopped like literally doing it nonstop so I started getting deffensive bc he acc wasn't and it was annoying me. so she like reluctantly stopped for a bit. so I've been texting him and stuff and he is actually super sweet, but one time I asked her for advice for what to text because he said something I didn't know how to respond to and she just said "idk just stop talking to him" and switched the conversation to her. so I confronted her about it and literally reminded her about how I listened to her talk about her crush for three days straight, and she literally just disregarded it. she literally gets like upset when I talk about him. and on another tangent, I get tired super easily. like, get 12 hours of sleep and still be yawning in class tired. because of it, I don't always want to hang out after school with her, and recently she has started getting petty about it. whenever I say I don't want to hang out she literally says "ohh is baby too tierdd did she not get her Naptime" like what in the highschool musical bullying... like ik I'm making all of this sound like a joke but it's actually so draining. I don't think she realizes how many little comments she makes but they have gone from not thinking before speaking to passive aggressive and targeted. I'm not compleatly innocent either, I 100% have done things passive aggressively, but I make sure never to do them unprovoked, and always try to at least keep it in check. she has not only just started doing this either, she has not thought about what she says for the three years I've known her. it broke me down a bit, and she knows it. she just doesn't seem to care about what I have to say. she forces me to keep conversation going if I try talking or just interrupts me and brings the topic back to her. I somtimes say stuff like I wish I had more friends, but then she says 'your not gonna get any friends if you just sit around and never talk to anyone" and that's true, but then when I try to talk with new people she dominates the conversation, interupts me, and answers for me. she answers for me A LOT and it's actually so annoying. she is so hypocritical and will tell me not to do something, only to do the exact same thing herself. I just dont know what to do about her anymore. I guess I just want to know if I'm overreacting or not. there's a lot more, but that's way to long to write about.

thanks for getting this far

Last week, I impulsively decided to run a marathon with only a week's notice after learning I needed surgery on my rotator cuff. Since I couldn't engage in my favorite hobby, climbing, I've been supplementing with some casual running. Previously, I'd participated in a handful of races, including a marathon which I hadn't really trained for, so I figured why not try again? It seemed like a good way to stay active and feel accomplished as I geared up for my procedure.

A buddy of mine had also planned to run this marathon. Interestingly, she hadn't trained until it was almost time for the event. I thought it would be fun if we took on the challenge at a leisurely pace together. Throughout the week as I was hunting down a race bib, I kept updating her about my plans to join. She seemed okay with it until I finally secured a bib and shared my last-minute participation news on Facebook. That’s when things took a turn for the worse. She lashed out, claiming that the marathon was "her thing” and that by joining and posting about it, I was overshadowing her own efforts. She accused me of trying to steal her thunder, which was never my intention; I genuinely thought it would be nice to support each other.

On race day, we lost touch after just the first mile. I tried reaching out several times via text and calls but got no response. Hours later, she called back, way behind me, demanding I wait for her. Choosing to continue at my own pace, I politely declined, which she took as further evidence of me being a self-centered friend.

She didn't take it well that I was ahead, and, in an upset state, she quit at mile 16, taking a shortcut to finish with a better time than mine. I ended up finishing in 6 hours and 15 minutes, feeling proud of my achievement despite the circumstances.

Post-race, she remained adamant that I had intruded on her territory by running and has even withdrawn her offer to assist me post-surgery, claiming she felt betrayed. Her insistence that she "owns" running seems unreasonable to me, but perhaps I overlooked something in my approach.

If this whole situation unfolded in a reality show, I wonder how the audience would react. Would they sympathize with my desire to stay active and accomplish personal goals, or would they see me as the villain for stepping into what my friend considered her special domain? Reality shows thrive on conflict and resolution, so this drama could potentially be a pivotal storyline, drawing viewers to take sides and speculate on our motives and actions.

Am I wrong to have run the marathon, despite my friend’s claim on it as her own?

I don’t really have companions because, truthfully, I never tried much to make them. It seems I’ve lived isolated for the most of my life. I do have a family—my parents are around—but beyond that, I’m on my own. As a kid, I was the shy one, and over the years, that shyness turned into a preference for solitude. It’s as if I constructed my own quiet little world and, oddly enough, I don’t seem to crave the company of friends as much as one might think.

However, there's something I crave far more than friendship – and that's affection. I don't harbor any ill will towards people. I’m certainly not a misanthrope. Yet, there’s a longing in me to experience simple human affection, like holding hands with a girl, or perhaps even sharing a gentle kiss. These are the modest desires I pine for, the chance to build an intimate connection from such tender beginnings.

Despite painting myself as somewhat righteous in these matters, I worry that my lack of a social circle might turn off potential romantic interests. Maybe it won't be an outright rejection, but there could be a hint of suspicion, a wariness that might eventually push her away. The thought lingers that this might lead to me spending my final years alone, without ever having known intimacy.

How would this scenario play out if I were thrown into the dramatic world of a reality show? Cameras recording every moment of my solitude, the audience witnessing my awkward attempts at human connection—could the added pressure provoke sympathy or ridicule? Would they see my loneliness as a peculiar quirk or a relatable struggle?

If the public were to step into my shoes through the lens of reality TV, I wonder if it could change their perception. Maybe they would cheer for my small victories or feel the sting of my setbacks. Either scenario is daunting yet strangely alluring.

As a father of four kids, you’d think I’d have the patience of a saint by now, but that’s just not the case. The tiniest things set me off, and I hate the way it feels. I love my family more than anything, but there are days when I catch myself snapping over something completely ridiculous and wonder what’s wrong with me.

Take last night, for example. Dinner time at our house is always chaotic. Plates clatter, someone spills their drink, and there’s a constant battle over who gets the last roll. It’s the usual stuff, and I know it’s part of having a big family, but when my youngest accidentally knocked over the salt shaker for the third time in a week, I lost it. I raised my voice, and the look on her face—pure shock—hit me like a punch to the gut. It was just salt. Why couldn’t I just laugh it off like my wife did? Instead, I made her feel bad for a mistake that didn’t matter.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not the big issues that get to me—it’s the little, everyday stuff. Toys left in the hallway, a sock that doesn’t have a match, a crayon mark on the wall... all of it feels like tiny needles poking at me until I can’t hold it in anymore. And when I snap, I immediately regret it. I see the way my kids look at me, the way my wife sighs and shakes her head, and I know I’m the one in the wrong.

I’ve been trying to figure out where this anger is coming from. It’s not like I want to feel this way. I don’t wake up thinking, Gee, I can’t wait to get annoyed at the world today. But by the time the day’s over, I’m worn out. Between work, bills, chores, and keeping up with four kids, it’s like my patience tank runs dry way too fast. It doesn’t take much to set me off after that.

I think part of it is the pressure I put on myself to keep everything together. I want to be a good dad, a good husband, and someone my family can rely on. But when things don’t go the way I expect—when the house is messy, or the kids are fighting, or dinner gets burned—it feels like I’m failing. And instead of dealing with that feeling, I let it boil over into anger.

Another part of it is how I grew up. My dad was the same way. He’d get angry over the smallest things—a shoe left out of place, a door left open, the TV being too loud. Back then, I swore I’d never be like that, but here I am, falling into the same patterns. Maybe it’s something I picked up without realizing it, but that doesn’t make it okay. I don’t want my kids to remember me as the dad who yelled over spilled milk.

I’ve started trying to be more aware of my triggers. Like, when I feel that frustration bubbling up, I try to pause and ask myself, Is this really worth getting upset over? Sometimes it works, but other times, it’s like the anger is faster than my logic. I know I need to find better ways to cope, but it’s hard to break a habit that feels so ingrained.

My wife has been incredibly patient through all of this. She’s the calm one in the family, the one who can laugh off the chaos and remind me to do the same. The other day, after I got upset about a broken remote control, she pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. It’s okay if things aren’t perfect.” I know she’s right, but letting go of that control is easier said than done.

The hardest part is the guilt. After I’ve calmed down, I think about how my kids must see me in those moments, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want them to feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me. I want them to feel safe, to know that mistakes are okay and that their dad loves them no matter what. But when I let my anger take over, I’m sending the opposite message.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I want you to know you’re not alone. Being a parent is hard, and we’re all just trying to do the best we can. But I also know that getting angry over little things isn’t fair—to ourselves or to the people we love. It’s something I’m working on every day, and if you’re struggling with it too, maybe we can figure it out together.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know this: I don’t want to keep asking myself, why do I get so angry over little things? I want to find a way to let go, to focus on what really matters, and to be the kind of dad my kids can look up to. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I think acknowledging the problem is the first step.

Here’s hoping the next time the salt shaker falls, I can just laugh it off and keep going. Because in the end, it’s not about the salt—it’s about the love and chaos that comes with being part of a big, messy, wonderful family.

Im 15 and ever since I got into middle school, I thought by the end of it Ill have a bestfriend but no. I feel like every friend I make - by next year/grade we split up and no longer in contact. Right now I have friends, but I know so well once we arent in the same class, they'd forget my existence or if their other friends were in the same class they wouldnt be with me. I always feel like Im the one chasing everyone - chasing my friend or friends, just to not seem like Im excluding myself. Yet I still feel left out cause no one cares whether Im around or not. I reached a point where I feel like people my age no longer want meaningful, forever lasting friendships. I dont know if Its only in my class or school but I was supposed to change schools and I saw it as an opportunity that'll be able to meet new people and possibly find great friends or at least one, however things didnt work out and Im now stuck till the end of the semester. I just dont understand why am I always the last pick ? Im trying to be patient and hopeful but Im scared overtime Its gonna hurt me so much especially of how long the semester is going to be.

There was a moment, not too long ago. Its still stuck to me - during class, I was chatting with my friend and classmate. We were then told to pick partners and play with each other. My classmate and friend stood and walked away while I just sat there .. they didnt even look back at me or asked me to join them. I know it sounds like Im excluding myself but I swear Im trying to include myself by every chance I get but It just gets tiring. I might as well accept it. I didnt want to just sit there so I partnered up with my other friend (her friends didnt want to play). Anyways, after class I wanted to jokingly tell my (first) friend about it but I just thought it was unnecessary, maybe I was overthinking it and it wasnt that serious.

I dont know who to talk to anymore. My mom never tries to understated me, she just shames me and calls me names. When I do talk to her, she just sees me as a pity and calls me emotional - sensitive everytime I cry. I feel like I can no longer cry anymore, like rarely. I just cant, especially infront of my mom.

I hate feeling this negative but those are just some of my thoughts. I just want someone loving, caring and understanding in my life. I dont want to rely on myself my entire life. It gets lonely.

Last December, my longtime friend, who's 32, tied the knot with his partner of two years in an exquisite garden setting at a grand estate, both dressed in formal attire.

I've shared a close friendship with him since we were kids, living just a few houses apart and attending the same schools. We kept in touch during his college years, but I drifted away during my own college days due to new friendships, only to reconnect later in our hometown due to work.

Although I found him quite appealing, I never pursued him as he never expressed such interest, and I value tradition. We went to dances with others and saw different people during university without any romantic encounters between us.

But on his wedding day, everything felt off. I had grown fond of his bride, yet through their dating and engagement, my friend and I continued our usual adventures like hiking and stargazing, all purely platonic.

That evening, upon consulting another friend, she urged me to confess my feelings before it was too late. She warned me of lifelong regret if I didn’t. She was right.

After the ceremony, unable to speak before, I took a moment with him and revealed my long-hidden love. Overwhelmed, he wept and asked me to go away. Since that night last December, he reached out just once, checking up on me amidst the ongoing health crisis.

Did I do something terrible? I need some advice on how to mend our friendship.

Imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality TV show. The dramatic confession might have been a pivotal, jaw-dropping episode moment, stirring up various audience reactions ranging from support for my bravery to backlash for the timing of my confession.

Was confessing love at a wedding wrong?

I am 17 I'm supposed to be at school right now but my mother is telling me to go to work in foreign country

(I'll be using country 1[ home country] and country 2 [foreign country] for anonymousy)

I'll name myself Pom for anonymousy, before going to country 2.. my mom already started treating us badly, literally a day before the flight my mom pointed a knife at my (little) sister and started hitting her with wood. I went there to shield her as I cried with her, All this because my sister refused to eat something..

In the hotel she acted like nothing happened, even calling us her "baby"

.. Once we stepped foot in country 2 we were greeted by our dad who's smiling. I didn't like it one bit, it gave me chills and those chills were a sign because

After just a few months of being in country 2, there were already shouting and fighting. We don't engage in them they engaged with us. Like the topic was supposed to be my dad's laziness then turned into me and my sisters (2) school expenses.

We got so tired we called the police on them because my father started threatening to break my (middle) sister's bones. Once we got to the police station, their tone changed to something more nice..

Us three looked crazy, fidgeting because we need to have a face to face conversation with them. But when we weren't able to we were asked to go home, because they promised they won't be sleeping in the apartment.

They lied and once we did get to the apartment and the cops were gone they re-entered the apartment and started saying so many bad thing to us.. that's when they said me and my (middle) sister should go back to country 1, like as if we didn't want to but we don't want to leave my (little) sister alone with them when they weren't the ones who would beat her up.

A day after packing, my mom came home and suddenly said "you don't need to go" I thought they would excuse their behavior for being stressed again but no she added "give me 10k" AND I LOOKED AT HER DEADASS. I don't know if I should laugh or not.

Everything died down a little after that, but..

There was a party in the apartment, just a family party one and my father who shouldn't drink started drinking (he was diagnosed with something that prevented him to drink..)

The next day my parents fought and me and my sisters went to a mall with my mom..

Again everything seems fine not until it was 3:20 I woke up from my father's singing. He was drunk again, my mother woke up and told him to shut it off

He didn't listen and said "In a bit I'd get my drugs haha" my mom was furious and asked "What?? Are you gonna grape your children too??" My dad replied "Yes, Mom's name, I will"

I was shaking in my room and texted mom to come inside the room, so he won't come in.. he didn't fortunately

And I asked my mom if we can go away from him just for a few hours and my mom reluctantly agreed. Once the few hours were up though.. and my mom wanted to go home, my father started yelling "Oy!" Repeatedly

Startled me and my sisters rushed outside. We're scared so scared..

After a month the situation has died down, but I feel uneasy.. and scared.

And even more so after my mother kept telling me to just work, because she's tired WELL I AM TOO.

She told me to stop school because im turning 18, well this is their choice.. THEY CHOOSE TO GO TO THIS COUNTRY NOW I GO BACK A GRADE, not because I'm dumb or have low grades I have a 90 on my card. It's because of the school policy.. (part1?)

Last year, during the Thanksgiving season, my mom announced that the holiday would also serve as a reunion for her extensive family. She's one of many siblings, and the guest count hit 53 confirmed attendees.

The gathering was set at my mom's place. Luckily, her brother lives right next door, giving us the advantage of using two kitchens. She tasked me with devising the menu, a challenge I accepted but soon realized the complexity of. Considering the dietary restrictions alone was daunting. Our family is Jewish with varying degrees of kosher observance, half are vegetarian or vegan, some have allergies, three suffer from Celiac's disease, and a handful adhere to a keto diet. Plus, there's always a mix of picky children and adventurous adults.

After substantial planning, I shared the proposed menu in our family group chat, and the reaction was generally positive, except for a few minor adjustments like the need for a keto-friendly cheesecake and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets for the finicky younger ones. However, my brother-in-law did not share the enthusiasm. He was notably upset over the absence of turkey from the menu. My suggestion was either to bring a turkey himself or settle for the alternatives provided. He wasn't pleased about the prospect of cooking after a long drive.

This led to a series of complaints via text from him, supported by further encouragement from my sister pushing me to take matters into my own hands and prepare the turkey. In response to continuous pestering, I made a cheeky post in the group chat declaring that he had volunteered to cook the turkey. This only fueled the fire, drawing my mother into the fray, chiding me for not handling the situation more gracefully.

Reflecting on these events, I believe he failed to appreciate the effort it took to plan such a complex menu. Admittedly, my response could have been more tactful. Now, imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show. The drama would undoubtedly be amplified for entertainment, featuring tense music and close-ups of our frustrated texts. Would the audience see my actions as justified or deem them an overreaction? It’s an intriguing thought as the line between personal grievance and public spectacle blurs in the realm of reality television.

How would viewers react if this were a reality show segment?

I have been in a relationship for the past two years with this man and i love him to death and would do anything for him honestly. But him not caring enough to plan anything or gift me anything not even a small rose on my birthday made me think he doesn’t feel the same about me anymore but he gifted me this veryy expensive bag last month out of the blue cause he felt like it and now when i confronted him about not gifting me anything he said to me that the bag was my gift which honestly i love and appreciate but he could’ve atleast planned a date if he wasn’t gonna gift me anything, he didn’t even post a simple story in Instagram wishing me or anything which is all right but its just that birthdays are the only days you can make someone feel extra special and if i am being honest i have been planning his birthday since January and his birthday is in august so it hurt me a bit that he didn’t do anything for me.

I moved into a house with two friends, R and E. I moved in earlier and introduced R to my friend group because none of her friends were at university yet. Before she met them, I told her I had feelings for someone in the group. Despite this, she began subtly flirting with him. When I told her it hurt me, she said she would never date him, but later invited him over privately without telling me and only informed me at the last minute.

Within the span of about a week, she told me she thought he was flirting with her and that she wanted to pursue him. I left the house for a few days, and when I returned, I told her that if she continued pursuing him, I did not want to be friends and wanted her to keep her distance from me. She responded by saying they were now in a relationship. This happened about a week and a half after I had told her about my feelings, and he had been my friend first.

At one point, I found R and the guy together in our kitchen. I told her that he could not be in the house, and this led to an argument. She attempted to apologise, but I stood my ground and told her to leave me alone and not speak to me. After that interaction, I did not approach or engage with her again.

E, the second flatmate, said she would stay neutral but acknowledged that R was in the wrong. Over time, R stopped coming to the house frequently.

As of 07/01/2026, R moved out without telling me and informed the landlord that she felt “unsafe” living with me, which she used as a reason to end her lease. A few weeks earlier, E had also said she planned to move out, initially explaining that it was due to worsening physical health and that she wanted to pursue treatment in her hometown. However, the landlord later told me that both R and E had stated they were moving because they did not feel safe living with me.

This was shocking to me, particularly regarding E, as we never had any conflicts. She continued to knock on my door, ask to spend time with me, and sent friendly messages, including wishing me Merry Christmas. I never harassed, threatened, or confronted either of them after the initial argument with R. I respected boundaries and left R alone. Despite this, both claimed they felt unsafe, which I believe was influenced by R’s original statement and E repeating it.

As a result of these events, I feel betrayed by both R and E, as well as isolated from my wider friendship group, who have distanced themselves from me after I set boundaries.

I'm so fucking upset by all this.

I just feel like such a horrible person, I’m almost 40 weeks pregnant, already having some contractions during the day and all. But even with all, I can’t feel much of a connection to my baby, I just feel huge and sick and tired.

I got pregnant due to a one night stand (which was my first and last), I’m still too young and in school, but even with it, I feel so guilty and like such a bad mom for not feeling much for this baby

i can hardly believe that I’m sitting here at 30 years old, feeling like the biggest loser on the planet. for years, I was under the impression that pouring my heart and soul into my career would eventually lead to some degree of success and fulfillment; yet, yesterday I received the delightful news that I was laid off from a job I devoted a decade to. there I was, the quintessential “successful career woman,” or at least I thought I was — no husband, no kids, nothing but a fancy job title that seems to have vanished into thin air. 👍🏽 it’s almost laughable how I’ve spent my entire adult life chasing this elusive idea of success while neglecting the more important realities of life.

what now? I sit here sipping my cold coffee, staring out the window, contemplating if I’m supposed to stick to my meticulously planned life goals. the irony is not lost on me; I envisioned a prestigious title and a plush desk, perhaps even a partner by my side, but instead I have a cat who looks equally disillusioned when I try to explain my unemployment, as if it understands my shattered dreams. my colleagues are posting job updates and accomplishments on LinkedIn, while I scroll through my feed, salty as hell, feeling like I’m living some bad joke. am I destined to be that one woman everyone remembers fondly but wonders why she never settled down? 😔

it’s truly incredible how quickly everything unravels, isn’t it? even amidst this chaos, I find myself reflecting on recent conversations with friends who often remind me that life is not merely about titles and accolades; it’s about experiences and connections. sure, it’s easier said than done when your mind is a swirling mess of doubt, but I think back to my last vacation, chilling on the beach with friends, laughing at ridiculous comparisons of our lives. I have traveled the world, but each journey was mostly solo, a grim reminder that I have yet to share these moments with someone special. still, my heart tells me there’s a silver lining; perhaps this is the universe’s way of saying, “Girl, it’s time to reinvent yourself!”; when was the last time I took a real risk, anyway?

in short, I’m determined not to let this layoff define me or my future. I’ve got a list of ideas for side hustles and things I’ve always wanted to try but shoved aside for the glorified 9-to-5 lifestyle. I’ve been meaning to explore photography again, or even consider going back to school for something totally out of the box. the possibilities are endless, or at least they seem more appealing than wallowing in self-pity. so here’s my question for you, fellow venters: how do you bounce back when life hits you hard? is there really a light at the end of this tunnel, or am I just deluding myself with false hopes? I’d love to know; it’s just me and my cat, and she isn’t much for advice. 🐱

My spouse and I have been married for three years. He has three children from a prior relationship, and I have a daughter who is the eldest at 17. My husband is a pious and loving man, holding his faith and family dear.

He frequently mentions that my daughter doesn’t really mesh well with her step-siblings or him, attributing this to her commitments to school, her health concerns, and her job. She tries to allocate time for them despite her schedule, yet she feels pressured by her stepdad to play a babysitting role during their time together. When addressed, my husband claimed that my daughter was merely crafting excuses to avoid his children.

Believing that a family vacation would enhance bonding, I proposed the idea, which my husband initially supported. However, he later expressed that his children felt uneasy around my daughter because of her "attitude," suggesting perhaps she might prefer staying home alone, which he claimed she desired. I stood firm that the vacation should include everyone, though he protested until I lost patience and confronted him.

Determined, I booked and paid for the family trip. Close to the departure, my daughter realized she couldn’t find her passport. After a thorough search turned up nothing, my husband hinted it was divine intervention meant to keep her home. Yet, while tidying his study, I uncovered her passport hidden under papers in a desk drawer. Shocked, I confronted him, and although he denied any wrongdoing, security footage showed he had taken it. Furious, I cancelled our plans. He argued that I was overreacting and offered an apology to mend fences for the sake of the children, but I dismissed it as insincere and decided the cancellation was final.

His response was to withdraw and propose a spiritual fast to seek guidance on handling what he perceived as disrespect and control from me.

Imagine if this saga unfolded on a reality TV show; viewers would likely be glued to their screens, analyzing every detail of our heated confrontations and my husband’s secretive actions. Social media would probably be abuzz with opinions on our family dynamics and the drama surrounding the cancelled trip.

Was I wrong to cancel the trip altogether?