Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I want to start this off by saying that my dad isn't too bad most of the time. most of what he does, he does because he thinks it is the best thing for us. and a lot of the issues that I have with him are caused by the way that he was raised. I do love my dad, but sometimes he does things that hurt me a lot emotionally, even if it is unintentional.

the thing that I am really upset about right now is that he just threatened to shoot my dogs. I have a couple dogs that live inside the house. one of them has some issues with going potty inside the house. this is largely in part due to the fact that the lady who owned my dog before me never took her dogs outside, and trained them to use a litter box i side the house. now my dog never wants to go outside, but we do the best we can to make sure that she spends enough time out there. that being said, she still makes a mess I side every now and then. it is certainly not ideal, but i clean it up and move on with the day. well, today, she had another one of those accidents and my dad found it. he got all pissed off and threatened to unlike both of my dogs. I doubt he would even actually do this, but it still really hurts to have to picture my life without them in it. I love them so much, and I can't understand why he would threaten to take that away. he saw how hurt I was when our past dog passed. I could barely function, and I still miss her every day. I know that he thinks that saying that is just tough love and will make the problem better, but all that it does is cause unnecessary hurt and resentment. I wish I could talk to him about this, but he is the kind of person who doesn't want to listen to his teenage daughter once he gets an idea in his head because he wants to be the man of the house. I have tried talking to him about these issues, but he never listens. so I have just given up. I know he doesn't mean anything by it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. especially since he knows how hurt I would be if anything happened to them.

the second big issue that I need to talk about is the church that he makes us go to. it is a Christian church, but it is horrible. it uses heavy fear mongering tactics, while preaching about love. the church is also quite sexist. they talk about love all the time, yet anytime anyone stops going to church or believes something different, they will turn their backs on them. I have grown up seeing my cousins stop going to church, and then hearing my family talk about how they are going down the wrong path and how terrible it is. they act like the worst thing a person could do is stop going to church. then when someone tries to ask a question and understand what is going on, they aren't met with love. they are met with yelling and anger because they are questioning the church. this to me seems the opposite of love and understanding. then, people preach about how we are worthless and there is no other good church out there. they also have extremely strict rules that if you don't follow, will keep you out of heaven. and of course, those rules are more strict for women. we are judged for not dressing a certain way, or for even being outgoing and vocal about your opinions. I can't wait to leave the stupid church, but i know that my dad is going to be upset with me. and then I am going to have to explain why I left, which is going to be terrifying. so unfortunately, I am stuck until I move out. I don't think he would disown me or anything for leaving, but he would definitely be upset. and I already know exactly how they are going to gossip about me. and don't get me wrong, religion has done a lot of good for a lot of people. but it has also been used as a tool to hurt and control a lot of people. I was brainwashed for the longest time to believe that I had such a wonderful family, and that I was so lucky that I was born into this church. then I started to realize how messed up everything was, and how messed up my extended family is that goes there. I don't have time to get into all the details right now, but just know that it is really bad. now, I can't stand anything to do with religion. it has been shoved down my throat so much all my life, that I can't have anything to do with it. which is tough because I would love to be part of a good, loving church community, but I just can't do that right now, and probably won't be able to for a long time. anyway, thanks for reading all of this, I hope you have a great day

Moomy, sorry if I swear in some of these and please promise not to get angry because I haven’t told anyone this and I feel like crap anyways

I couldn't finish 3 of my exams. I couldn't the last 2 questions of biology, I couldn't finish 1 section in Hindi, and I couldn't finish half the paper in maths. I will fail even all the subjects. Maybe I didn't study enough for all of them. I'm a failure to everyone. I'm a failure in life. I don't have friends, I studied but I didn't have practice, I'm apparently rude to everyone and everything, I can't even draw like my beloved artists, I can't do art in the future because you'll replace me, and I won't pass school next year. It may be the second term and I have one more, but it's not enough. I'm not enough. I've never been. The list should've helped me because I would've been a great human, not the defective fetus my parents were given. That's all I am. Failure. Always will be, unless I figure out a way to just stop. Stop harming others with this mess, because my existence of failing alone is bad.

Nobody wants a failure, nobody wants to fail. Because look where failure got others. People failed to check the reactor core of Chernobyl, many people of Ukraine and other countries died. Someone scored very low in school, he was held back a year and continues like that, even though he's happy now. Someone failed a driving test, so they never drive again because they probably ran over someone. Someone failed an exam, and their parents beat the hell out of them or they get horrible treatment. Someone out there failed to get his family any food in a poor village and they die. Someone who was a topper in 8th became a failure in 12th and never ever got accepted to any college EVER. See? Failure hurts and it destroys. It’s like a cancer, a mutation which occurs when a DNA code fails. Failure’s a prion, a cancer, a mutation. I hate it when books tell kids in school, failure should help you learn. It helped me learn to not fail and resent it. My parents may have been fine, but I don't care. I'm a failure, and I should leave the house because I said so. Dad's right when he says lots of Indian families hate failure, I should too. He's not right when he says it's not good. Stop lying, dad!

Look where it f—king got me. I feel like I failed in everything. How am I gonna make it in this world? I won't. If I fail in one more thing, I'm a useless child. I hate it when they say you can learn and do better from failure. I hate it when dad says not to fear failure. Look where failure got others in the real world! Death! Destruction! Famine! Held back a year! Loss of friends! Abuse! More death! This will happen to me. It will. Didn't failure hurt them?

That's why I'm a problem. I may have been born by loving parents, but right now I feel like they secretly hate me, even though they seem fine. I burnt everything I touched, maybe this fail is it. I failed at maintaining 1 friend, at succeeding exams, at being nice and humorous, at being smart, at looking good and being in the trend, many things. I'm pathetic. I'm the worst thing ever to happen. Why even though I studied I couldn't finish the paper? I'm too slow like a snail, that is! I’m fat, ogre-like and as ugly as someone’s hairy armpits. I hate it when my mom said not to think on her behalf. Making predictions is what we do. Stock workers do it to predict the market trends. Even if she scored 5th topper IN SCHOOL, why is she telling me she also failed? It's a lie! Farce! Fake! Farzi! She's lying that she failed. She's not showing love, it's a story she cooked out of her mother-head to comfort her child. If I hate myself, I'll get better. I'm a worthless, useless, piece of sh-t, v—na candle smelling, stupid, pig-like, hairy, baboon-ish creature who deserves to not live for all her f—king failures. If I hate myself, I'll get better. Isn't it how it works? I admit my failure, I remind myself of them again and again, and I'll improve. It’s what I’ve been told by someone I don’t remember a long time ago.

My high was a waste. My high of feeling better and more confident was an utter waste pulled out my a-s that I really regret because I feel so stupid. Don’t try to convince me failure is good for me. Failure is bad for everyone. Remember my examples? They’re true! I feel more useless than ever. Like my high of positivity and small confidence was wasted. What do you mean I should think more positive, if this is the sandpit it got me to? I hate it when people say it. I’m sorry, but I also hate the fact even my own family hates cynicism and honesty, even though dad embodies both. Hatred of oneself happens when that person understands they are nothing more than their flaws. I’m nothing more than a stupid, short, fat, hairy, ugly, brace-faced, curly-haired, unskilled, lazy, abusive sister, daughter, girl and even human being. Being “positive” is stupid. Look where hoping got me. I didn’t f-cking finish the goddamn paper. My hope that I will finish was a farce and a fart. Listen here, stupid sheeple. POSITIVITY GETS YOU NOWHERE. Say it louder for the people at the back! Don’t tell me to care for myself and look at things to make me happy. Don’t tell me to “LIST PAST ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS WELL AS THINGS

YOU’RE LOOKING FORWARD TO.” “LOOK AT POSITIVE IMAGES AND THINK POSITIVE THOUGHTS TO CHANGE YOUR MOOD.” or even the stupidest, dumbest and most STINKIEST one, “WRITE DOWN NEGATIVE THOUGHTS AND THEN RIP THEM UP OR THROW THEM AWAY.” How the actual hell does ripping up your negative make you better? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANYONE FEEL BETTER, FAKE SCIENTIST! I’M A PRODIGY, A TINFOIL-WEARER IN THE MATRIX OF FOOLS! DON’T SAY SUCH STUPIDITY, YOU HAGS, SLOTHS, MORONS, HAIR-EATERS!

Dad now thinks I’m a lying, dramatic, piece-of-sh-t daughter who’s only doing this to piss him off. Wow, great observation father! I just love how smart you are! I’m not upset, I’m aroused! I AM a psychopathic, cringe daughter! I am the Belle Gibson wannabe who successfully fooled the goddamn world into thinking she’s got cancer, when bloody lady’s got everything fine and set out for her! I’m a girl who’s farting out problems, and using my tongue! Ever considered cutting it off and removing my teeth? B-TCH?! WANNA F-CKING HURT ME? GO AHEAD. Not that you care if whatever I’m going through now is real or fake, I’m Belle Gibson, Moriarty, Kokichi, all chronic liars! I’M A LIE! And lies deserve to be killed and obliterated by God! IS GOD EVEN REAL? I don’t care, go ahead! Send me away to a sh-t Indian school where nobody cares and they all beat and probably r-pe me, because guess what, I’m toughening up! I’m having the ass of a monkey, callouses as hard a stone!! I’M THE LIAR I’M THE LIAR I’M THE LIAR GOD IS REAL I DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED I’M A LIAR I DESERVE TO NOT HAVE LOVE I’M A LIAR AND I SHOULD BE JAILED AND TORTURED AND R-PED AND KILLED AND SLAUGHTERED AND EATEN!!

So don’t even begin to think about how I can improve, because I can never, ever, ever succeed next unit, or ever, in life for ANYTHING. Plain and simple, 1 + 1 = 2.

Recently, I tied the knot. My sister Sabrina and I have always had a rocky relationship; she's seemed insecure for as long as I can recall, and that strain grew during our upbringing. Despite my efforts to be considerate of her feelings, she often reacts in subtly aggressive manners. This tension amplified after I was accepted into a university she was rejected from.

At my wedding, while I was conversing with guests, Sabrina approached me and commented that I should have worn red instead of white. Insinuating that a bride wearing red denotes promiscuity was clearly meant to be a jibe. Upset, I responded somewhat sharply, "I understand, Sabrina. You're jealous, perhaps because of your own issues, but please, this isn't the time to project your insecurities onto me." I didn't raise my voice, but my frustration was evident.

Sabrina left in a huff, and I noticed that a few of our relatives caught the exchange. Later, my brother criticized my handling of the situation and suggested I owe her an apology for embarrassing her publicly. My parents, on the other hand, felt that Sabrina needed to address her ongoing behavior issues instead.

Imagining this scenario unfolding in a reality show setting adds another layer of drama. Under the relentless scrutiny and judgment of cameras and a live audience, the emotional impact could intensify dramatically. Audience reactions might fluctuate between sympathy for Sabrina's hurt feelings to support for my frustrations with her behavioral patterns. The tightrope walk of family dynamics, especially in such a public and pressurized environment, could certainly spark heated debates and viewers' alignment along contrasting perspectives.

How should I respond to my sister's comment?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, more than I probably should. I’m 20 years old, been in a relationship for a few months now, and on the surface, things are fine. She’s nice, funny, thoughtful, always checking in on me. We get along well, don’t fight, and everything seems… okay. But that’s kind of the problem—it’s just okay. I keep waiting for that spark, that big overwhelming feeling everyone talks about, the one where you just know you’re in love. But it hasn’t come. Not even close. And I’m starting to wonder if it ever will. I don’t dislike her. I enjoy spending time with her. But when I think about the future, or even just picture us next year, it’s like looking at something blurry. No clear image comes to mind. And it’s making me feel guilty, like I’m lying by staying in this relationship when my heart might not really be in it.

I’ve talked to a few friends about it, and I get mixed advice. Some say love takes time, that I shouldn’t expect fireworks this early, especially since we’re both still young. Others tell me if I’m already questioning things, that’s my answer right there. But it’s not that simple. I don’t want to hurt her. She’s done nothing wrong. She cares about me, probably more than I deserve, and the thought of breaking her heart makes me sick. But at the same time, I keep asking myself—is it fair to stay just because I don’t want to be the bad guy? Isn’t that worse in the long run? I don’t want to settle into a relationship just because it’s comfortable or because I’m afraid of being alone. But the fear of regret is real too. What if I leave and realize I made a mistake? What if I’m just not in the right mindset and this is all in my head?

We’ve had good moments, don’t get me wrong. Little laughs, shared jokes, quiet nights watching dumb movies. But there’s something missing. It’s like there’s a wall I can’t get past, a layer of emotion that never really shows up. I keep comparing what I feel now to how I’ve felt in past crushes, where I couldn’t stop thinking about someone, where I felt that ache when we were apart. With her, it’s different. I don’t count down the hours until I see her. Sometimes, I even feel relieved when plans get canceled. And then I feel awful for feeling that way. I keep telling myself maybe it’ll change, maybe I just need more time. But how much time is enough before you admit something isn’t clicking? I see couples who look crazy about each other, and I wonder what that feels like. I’ve never had that, and I’m scared maybe I’m just not capable of that kind of love—or worse, maybe I just haven’t found the right person yet, and I’m wasting both of our time pretending I have.

So yeah, I don’t know if I should stay in my relationship. I’m trying to be honest with myself, but the guilt is eating at me. I don’t want to be cruel, but I also don’t want to lie by staying when I’m not really all in. I wish someone could just tell me what the right answer is. I wish I could look at her and feel that certainty people talk about. But I don’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And until I figure it out, I’m stuck in this weird place between not wanting to hurt her and not wanting to hurt myself by staying in something that doesn’t feel right.

hi,i m thirteen years old and i am a female i have been struggling with my mental health for a year or two now and it’s sort of on and off -for example: it will go away for a few weeks and then it all just comes back at once like a ton of bricks the main trigger is my severe eczema i have had this skin condition since i was a child and it hasn’t been the kindest to me but recently it has been appearing on my face allot worse than ever it has been oozing and crusting over a yellowish colour and i have been so upset i haven’t even left my room brushes my hair or done basic necessities properly for weeks even month i know its disgusting but its my life unfortunately i used to scream at my parents for opening my curtains because i couldn’t stand the sight of light someone even looking at my face would send me into panic attacks and meltdowns i have gotten over this a little but my fear of leaving the house hasn’t i haven’t left the house in weeks now i feel a burden to others all of my friends go out and have fun but i dont i would rather sit in my room i know there’s something wrong with me but i cant get my head round it ii dont feel real i feel like a ghost someone help me please what do i do.

i’ve been asking myself that question every single day since she left. how do you get over someone who didn’t break your heart with cruelty, but just… left? it’s been a few months now, and still, every morning i wake up hoping there’s a message from her, knowing there won’t be. she didn’t leave me because she stopped loving me—we never even had a real “ending.” she moved across the world for work, for family, for life, and i was left behind with all these feelings and nowhere to put them. i still remember the last time i saw her at the airport, tryin to be strong, pretending like it wasn’t the last time i’d see her for god knows how long. i smiled through it, kissed her cheek, told her i understood. but deep inside, it shattered me. we weren’t even official, not in the way people usually mean it, but i loved her. i really loved her. in that all-consuming, soft, terrifying way that makes your chest ache in the best and worst ways. and now she’s just... gone. in another time zone, living a life i’m not part of, and i don’t know how to move forward when a piece of me is still with her.

everyone says the usual things—“time heals,” “stay busy,” “you’ll meet someone else”—but none of it helps when all i want is her. i’ve tried. i’ve gone out, talked to new people, thrown myself into work, started hobbies i don’t care about just to keep my mind occupied. but nothing sticks. she’s still there, in every quiet moment. in songs i used to play for her, in cafés that remind me of our favorite spot, in the way i still sleep on one side of the bed. and maybe the hardest part is that i can’t even be angry. i can't hate her for leaving. she did what she had to do. but where does that leave me? stuck in this limbo where i keep pretending i'm okay when i'm not. people around me think i’ve moved on cause i smile and laugh and say “i’m fine,” but they don’t see me at night, lying awake wondering if she still thinks about me too. or if i was just a small chapter in her story while she became a whole book in mine. i miss her in ways i can’t even explain. not just her voice or her touch, but the feeling of being seen, really seen. she got me in a way no one ever has. and maybe that’s what makes it so hard—how do you get over someone who felt like home? maybe the truth is, you don’t really “get over” them. maybe you just learn to live around the ache, to make space for the memory without letting it swallow you whole. but right now? it still hurts. and i don’t know when it’ll stop.

My 30th birthday dinner was meant to be a special occasion. Planned as a joyous family gathering at a restaurant, it was essentially the highlight of my birthday celebrations since I hadn’t organized a party. However, events took an unexpected turn earlier today when my brother and his wife called me, bubbling with excitement to share their news of expecting a baby. Naturally, I was overjoyed for them and we went through all the customary celebratory conversations. But then, they dropped a question that caught me off guard. They wanted to know if I would be okay with them announcing their pregnancy to our parents during my birthday dinner, explaining that since his wife had been feeling nauseous and wasn’t drinking, it would make sense to share the news now. They assured me they could wait and announce it at another family-focused event if I preferred.

The mere fact that they asked this of me stung a bit. It’s not been easy celebrating personal milestones recently, with numerous past birthdays ending in disappointment and my university graduation being overshadowed by the pandemic. Turning 30 felt monumental, especially considering I don’t plan on the traditional milestones of marriage or children anytime soon. With these thoughts heavy on my mind, I asked for some time to think and promised to call them back.

Feeling somewhat cornered, I decided it would be best if they didn’t share their news at my birthday dinner. They seemed to understand, but when I expressed how their request had put me in an awkward position, the conversation quickly soured. They became defensive and my sister-in-law even raised her voice. The call ended on a terse note, leaving me more distressed than before.

This upheaval completely soured my mood and the thought of sitting through a dinner pretending to be cheerful was unbearable. I ended up calling my parents to postpone the dinner, unable to provide a full explanation, which led to their obvious frustration and the reservation’s cancellation fee.

In a bid to clear the air, I reached out directly to my brother. I tried to explain the depth of my feelings and questioned whether he would have made such a request if it were another significant celebration, like an engagement dinner. The conversation was a long one, with pauses and equivocations, but it ended with my brother apologizing, though the damage was done.

Our rescheduled dinner now won't happen until far after my actual birthday due to my brother’s job constraints, making the whole event feel somewhat pointless.

On top of it all, the backlash from the family for the dinner being delayed and the resultant unpleasantness has been directed at me, making me question if I am the one at fault here.

Imagine if this scenario had unfolded on a reality TV show. The dramatic phone calls, the tense family dynamics, and the emotions riding high could have made for quite the episode. Viewers likely would have been split—some siding with me over the importance of respecting my birthday wishes, while others might argue that family news could enhance the celebratory atmosphere. The debates would swirl not just within the confines of my family, but across social media platforms, as the public weighed in on the family drama unfolding on screen.

Would you have let your siblings announce their pregnancy at your birthday dinner?

You ever have one of those friendships where you’re not sure how you’d survive without the other person? Well, that’s me and Jessica. I mean, life would probably be a hell of a lot duller without her sarcastic comments and loud laugh cutting through my everyday monotony. At 33 years old, I’ve realized it’s rare to find someone who not only gets your weird quirks but embraces them, likes an oversized sweater on a cold winter night. There’s this strange comfort in knowing that while the world can be filled with backstabbing and fake smiles, you have your best friend who unapologetically supports you, even when your life resembles a dumpster fire. 🔥

Jess and I met in college, both of us nursing unfulfilled dreams and a healthy dose of reality check. I remember one late-night study session that turned into us binge-watching terrible reality TV shows instead. We should have been revising for exams, but we were too busy critiquing the fashion choices of anyone who walked through that screen. Crazy enough, we somehow made it through college with decent grades, all thanks to the 'shared misery' index - if she was freaking out about her work, I could focus on mine. The amount of times we’ve nurtured each other through anxiety and doubt could fill an entire book if we wrote it. And isn’t that what friendships are all about? Building each other up, even when the world seems determined to tear us down?

But let’s not kid ourselves; there are days when I question why I even bother with this friendship. Sure, Jess brings a ton of good energy, but there are times it can feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum when they don’t get their way. Like that time she just showed up to my place unannounced with a bottle of cheap wine and an even cheaper movie, demanding we 'decompress.' On a Tuesday night. Seriously? Sometimes, I sweat bullets just thinking about how she manages to be both a wonderful support system and sometimes an exhausting drama queen. It’s an emotional rollercoaster I never asked to be on! 🎢 Honestly, I sometimes wonder if being this close makes me question her sanity or mine; still, she somehow balances my chaos with her own while insisting, “I’m just here to spice up your boring life!”

I guess that’s friendship for you. You recognize the red flags, that mix of frustration and loyalty bubbling beneath the surface, and yet you stay. You endure. And you lean on each other in those moments you just want to scream, "Why the hell are you like this?" But then there are moments of clarity, where I'd be lost in my thoughts and Jess would pop up out of nowhere saying, “Get it together, you got this!” It’s sincerely annoying yet oddly comforting; she holds me accountable without firing me up. It’s the kind of friendship that just makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes, but also genuinely appreciate the messiness of it all. And honestly, who can say they have that? 🤔 You ever find that friend who drives you crazy but is still your rock? What would you do without them???!

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?

It’s honestly one of the hardest things to talk about, and I didn’t really understand it until it happened to my best friend. Her dog, Luna, passed away two weeks ago, and I swear I’ve never seen her so heartbroken. Like full-on crying for days, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, barely wanted to talk to anyone. At first I didn’t even know what to say. I mean, what do you say when someone loses a pet that meant everything to them? People always act like it’s “just a dog” or “just a cat” but to the person who lost them, it’s like losing family. And Luna was family to her. She grew up with that dog. They did everything together—walks after school, cuddles on the couch, even birthday photos. So yeah, when Luna died, it was like something huge went missing from her world, and all I could think was, “I hope I don’t say the wrong thing.”

I made the mistake of googling stuff first, trying to find the perfect words. But all the suggestions online felt so cold or fake. Stuff like “she’s in a better place” or “at least she’s not suffering anymore.” I didn’t wanna say those things. They felt empty. So instead, I just told her I was sorry, and that I was there if she wanted to talk—or not talk. I let her cry without trying to fix it. I didn’t push her to go out or “cheer up.” I think sometimes people try too hard to take away the pain, but the truth is, grief needs time. Whether it's for a human or an animal, loss is loss. So I sat with her, even if we just stared at the wall or watched TV in silence. I brought her favorite snack and let her tell me stories about Luna, even the ones I’d heard a hundred times.

And honestly, I think that helped more than any fancy words could. Just being there, showing you care without making it about you or trying to make the sadness go away. That’s what I’ve learned so far—when someone loses a pet, you don’t need to come with a perfect speech. You just need to show up with love and patience. Let them grieve in their own way. One of the only things I did say that felt right was, “She was lucky to have you.” And my friend cried even more when I said that, but not in a bad way. I think it helped her know that Luna’s life was full of love, and that she gave her dog the best she could. That kinda thing matters. Sometimes we blame ourselves, thinking maybe we could’ve done more. So hearing someone else say “you did good” can really make a difference.

Now that it’s been a little while, she’s still sad, but it’s not as heavy as before. She’s started smiling again, even laughing sometimes. I think she’s gonna be okay, but I know she’ll always miss Luna. And that’s okay too. Pets aren’t just pets. They’re companions, comfort, joy, and unconditional love all rolled into one. Losing them is real grief, and it deserves real compassion. So if you’re ever in that position, where someone you care about has lost their furry best friend—just be gentle. Say you’re sorry, listen more than you talk, and don’t rush them to move on. Grief isn’t a straight line, and love doesn’t end just because someone is gone. Whether they barked, purred, or squeaked—if they were loved, they mattered. And that’s all anyone needs to hear.

I’m put into a position where I have to choose who to live with. Either my grandma or my mom and it’s hard because I love them both and I hate that I’m forced here. My mom is going to move out because my grandma says that she brings trouble to the house and because my mom forgave her boyfriend after he hit her and took her car. So my grandma is making my mom move out so my mom and her boyfriend can live together instead of bringing him here to where I’m currently staying (which is in a home with my grandma and my mom). Today my grandma asked me “Your mother is looking for a place to live. I assume you’ll stay here with me, right?” <— (In Spanish) and all I did was look down. I didn’t give her a clear answer so she shrugged it off but it makes my chest ache, feeling like my family is falling apart and there’s nothing I can do. I don’t want to have to choose who to live with, I just want things to be happy.

And on top of all of that I just wish I could have a dad to go to. “Daddy issues” is so sexualized but it’s not my fault my own father isn’t there for me emotionally / mentally so now every time I see a dad and daughter having a healthy relationship it makes me cry and I get so jealous that it hurts. My mom doesn’t have her shit together, she’s always coddling her boyfriend and there’s no privacy with her or her boyfriend because of a camera I mentioned in one of my other vent stories. I just wish I had both of them, a mom to go to that respects my privacy and can just comfort me and a dad who can do the same. But I’m 15 and I’m already aware of the dangers online so I don’t trust easy anymore after having a couple online friends that talked behind my back to my boyfriend. My boyfriend also has his own things that he’s going through and I don’t want to burden him so I wish I could have my own online family. Like a little support system to escape reality.

I wish there was a way to factory reset my family, lol.

For almost half a decade, my husband and I have battled infertility. This trying path has seen us engage in numerous IVF attempts, endless medical consultations, and ride an emotional rollercoaster. Despite this challenge, we’ve kept most of our family informed, including my sister, who recently celebrated her marriage.

At her wedding reception, she decided to deliver a speech that started on a conventional note. But unexpectedly, she veered off into making a joke about my childlessness, suggesting I was the “favorite” child for being able to live 'freely' without kids, unlike herself and other parents worn out by their duties. Her words, followed by laughter from some guests, hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment and disbelief; her sarcastic remark was a direct hit to my years of hidden struggles. Knowing how much my infertility pained me, it felt as if she was mocking my deepest insecurities.

I managed to stay composed for a few minutes, but soon, I couldn’t bear it any longer. In need of escape, I quietly left the celebration, with my husband by my side. As we drove away, my phone flooded with messages from relatives curious about our abrupt departure. It turned out that my sister had noticed our absence and was livid, accusing me of making a spectacle and overshadowing her special day. The family seemed divided, with some echoing her sentiments, labeling me overly sensitive and claiming it was “just a joke.”

My exit from the wedding wasn’t intended to cause drama; it was a necessary retreat to preserve my mental wellbeing. Leaving was my silent protest against her insensitivity.

If this scenario unfolded on a reality show, the reaction might be amplified. Cameras would capture every nuance of my reaction and her speech, potentially sparking a dramatic, tear-filled confrontation. Viewers could see interviews where family members pick sides, and social media could become a battleground of opinions, with hashtags siding with either me or my sister. Such publicity would magnify every element of the family drama.

Was I right to leave my sister’s wedding after her "joke"? I chose the "bridezilla" category, not exactly that but you see...

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’m 13, female and I went on a website looking for someone to talk to so I could vent about my issues with my family. My family, while I love them, has flaws. My parents, even though they’re divorced, still live together in my Mom’s apartment with me and my sister. It had been a rough divorce and I’m not sure if I’m fully over it but I still have lasting things going on. My mom and dad mutter bad things about each other, mostly my dad though. Living in an apartment it’s easy to hear through the paper thin walls and his loud voice doesn’t help. I don’t know if my little sister notices or not but I hope she doesn’t. Anyway, I went on a website that was 18+ where you could talk to strangers anonymously. As expected there were a lot of weird people on there but I skipped past them and found a few good ones. I matched up with this one German guy. I live in New Jersey, USA so we’re nowhere near each other. I found it cool I could talk with someone across the world and we talked about the different countries and our lives. He told me he was 22 and I said I was 19 since the age was 18+. I probably shouldn’t have ever gone on in the first place but I was desperate for someone to listen to me. So we talked and talked. He was really nice and sweet and he listened to me and gave feedback. I told him my insecurities and he said that I was perfect the way I was and not to worry about it and let it drag me down, despite not even seeing a picture of me or anything! I felt so seen and heard. We both had cats. I had one and he had too so we talked about that and made jokes. He was funny and made me smile. So, when I started picking up on him flirting with me I was flattered but dread started to pile up. I liked the flirting, I never felt so nice like I had nothing to change or worry about. Not to mention I’m fairly socially awkward and not on the popular side in my school so while everyone started to date and experiment I lagged behind. Maybe a bit ridiculous I know but I always wanted something like true love. Or even just someone to cherish me like the guys in the books and shows.. and he gave me that. I told him I was part French but only by blood and I didn’t really know French but we still joked about it. I’m in French class so I knew a few French words and sentences so I showed him just as fun, things like how to order from a restaurant and whatnot. He said he had a thing for French girls and I couldn’t help but feel happy and the flutter in my stomach I never really felt before. The time difference was major and he had to go to sleep soon as it was very late at night, or rather early in the morning for him. I never flirted back but I did pick up on all of his. How he wished me goodnight in French, he called me hun, said specific things about comments I made that I knew he did intentionally. That problem is, I’m 13, not 19. It’s wrong and nothing will ever come of it but he doesn’t know that. I’m cat fishing him and I didn’t even mean to! I’m not sure what to do. I’ve been a genuine connection like that for so long and I feel so good around him, he said I make him smile by talking with him. But he doesn’t know I’m 13. I don’t want to let go of what we have, I’m afraid I’ll never find something like that again. I know it can never happen though. And even if I could manage to just stay on a friendly level I’m sure the feelings wouldn’t go away and it wouldn’t change the fact that I have to keep pretending to be 19. He’d find out eventually or at least get suspicious right? I couldn’t tell him, he’d be furious of course and I don’t want to lose the friendship and connection I have. I don’t know what to do now.

sometimes I seriously wonder if I’m the only one who dreads traveling with my family. like, don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and our three kids, but holy crap, the anxiety that comes with planning these long-distance trips is unreal. my husband, bless his soul, is all about hitting the road—“Let’s go explore the world!” he says, with that unrealistic enthusiasm that makes me want to roll my eyes. I get it; I really do. But the logistical nightmare that revolves around it? It's like I'm drowning in a sea of suitcases, snacks, and “Are we there yet?” coming from the back seat.

don’t even get me started on the packing. like, how do you even begin to decide what to take? I’ll have a mini panic attack just looking at the clothing options for a week-long trip. I mean, why are there so many categories of “travel wear”? Casual, active, beach, smart casual? At this point, I feel like I need a full-on schematic to figure out what my kids will need for a simple road trip. And of course, let’s not forget the inevitable last-minute chaos where I find half the kids' belongings scattered throughout the house, from their favorite toys to those socks that my daughter claims are “magically lost.” who has the time?

and it’s not just about the packing. there’s this overwhelming fear of the actual travel day. what if the car breaks down? what if the kids start fighting in the back seat? or worse, what if we stop at some terrible roadside diner? it’s like a mental game of “What could go wrong?” and I always manage to come up with the most outrageous scenarios. I mean, am I alone in thinking that travel is just a perfect storm of potential disasters? one minute you're excited about visiting the Grand Canyon, and the next you're dealing with a flat tire, three kids screaming for snacks, and a husband who's somehow oblivious to all the chaos around him. "It's an adventure!" he says, while I'm plotting my escape route home.

despite all the stress, I do think there's a silver lining in this craziness. maybe it’s the collective eye rolls or the sighs of exasperation that bring our family together in the end. those moments where we can bond over shared calamity and laugh about the flat tire that turned into a spontaneous picnic—who knew getting stranded could lead to such memorable family moments? and you know what? it might be chaos, but it's our chaos, right? there’s something unbelievably beautiful about navigating the mess of a family trip, knowing it’ll lead to stories that we’ll be telling for years to come. "Remember that time Mom lost her mind because Dad wanted to stop for coffee?" Yeah, I have a feeling that’ll be a classic.

so as much as I might dread packing our bags and enduring travel day madness, I hold on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, once we pull away from our driveway, all the stress will fade away. it’s a journey not just on the road, but also through our family’s antics. that little flicker of positivity keeps me going when my anxiety threatens to overtake the excitement I should feel. if you relate to any of this—seriously, let me know! are we all just a bunch of travel-anxious parents trying to survive family road trips, or is there a secret group out there that has figured this out? I need some tips, people!!!