Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

So I hv this girl I’m currently best friends with I’m just gonna say her name bc like 1,000 girls hv it. So I’ve been best friends with Sofia only recently we acc only became friends

Friends because we had mutual ones but anyways in around middle school I started getting really sensitive about things and for a while I thought I was bi and like I’m not right now, but she would say I was like mentally insane because of it and I had about three other friends in that friend group they were all friends from elementary school and they honestly never really listened to me like maybe I didn’t talk enough or like didn’t try hard enough to be included but like I feel like I did like that’s what they say that I didn’t try hard enough to be included and that it was a really long time ago. There was like a lot of little things that she did like I remember there’s this homophobic guy that went to another school and she says that she didn’t but I feel like she gave him my phone number and then he texted me saying about how like people act like insert school knew I was dating a girl and they don’t support my white @ss and then swore at me and it didn’t actually bother me, but it was the fact that she like did this and before she gave him my number she was talking to him about like hey do you know that (my name) is dating a girl and I literally wasn’t. She was actually just making stuff up… well I guess maybe she wasn’t because like I had this joke that there’s this girl that was my wife, but it was actually a joke like I literally told her it was like a platonic wife and also we were in middle school like I was not dating anyone… and so she was talking bad behind my back about me with this homophobic guy and saying how weird and unnatural it was and so one of my other friends, L she sent me pictures of the Gmail’s that Sofia sent to that guy and so having like solid evidence, I confronted her about it but around that time I was getting made fun of for being too sensitive about stuff so I tried to make it like a joke like Sofia I just heard that you were talking behind my back with this guy what but like I made it sound like a joke and she just like laughed like straight up laughed like I mean I guess I was doing as a joke but and like denied it, but like what I literally saw the Gmails…. And there was like a lot of other things that she did like she made fun of some of my other friends constantly she basically called me ugly a bunch of times, but those might’ve been jokes to be honest. So obviously all of this like really hurt my feelings like honestly the only reason I actually think I thought I was bi was because my friendship with them was so bad that I thought having actual friends was like liking someone and so because of that I became like severely depressed. It started off as me just wanting to run away, and I was actually making plans to run away like I was. I had this whole thing planned like I was gonna like run away into the woods and I had this like drinking straw you can get water from rivers and it’ll be clean, but after that once I didn’t do that and nothing got better. I started considering killing myself and it was so bad like every single day that was all that I could think about like constantly ringing in my head I just wanna die. I just wanna die. I just wanna die and I would cry myself to sleep every single night I’d call all the suicide hotline people. They never helped. I’m terrified of pain, but I actually managed to cut myself a little and I know this doesn’t count as like self harm, but even now I still sometimes like pinch myself really hard or scratch myself and like in sort of like a weird way I’m proud of it cause like I don’t know it makes me feel less weak, like I hurt myself That makes me feel less weak. One time I did kind of like a pathetic suicide attempt I tried to suffocate myself with a pillow obviously it didn’t work. And so like all of what she said and with my other friends, but that’s another story like really messed me up in the head and right now I’m in counseling and I’m actually gonna be getting like antidepressants and I still can’t tell if it’s all in my head or not like she didn’t mean it like she actually did not mean it or maybe she did I mean she meant everything she said, but she just didn’t mean it to hurt me because like she doesn’t think before she speaks, but I’m honestly so tired of like Excusing her for what she did like. She’s apologized and stuff, but it doesn’t help. It does not take away the three years that’s still going on that I’m depressed and sad and wanting to kill myself. I just can’t blame her for it because she always has an excuse and it makes me feel crazy whenever I like talk to her about it so that was all like the past stuff there’s a lot happening right now, but I don’t think it will allow me to have this many words so thanks for reading all of this I hope you have a good day

Context: I was with my ex-boyfriend for a little over 2 years. It was definitely rocky, especially toward the end, but the break up hurt. It hurt so bad because it was abrupt, and it was like right when I started liking him again. I became the desperate ex for like a little just trying to get back with him or at the least stay friends. It didnt work after he asked me for advice on how to date a new girl like 3 days. I blew up on him for being an asshole and he blocked me.

Fast forward about 3 months later and I started dating again. I accidently got into a serious relationship while in retrospect, defintelly still having feelings for my ex. I declined my feelings and moved forward with the new guy. Fast forward to this past summer and I cannot stop thinking about my ex. I wasnt happy in my current relationship so I didnt care to hide it. I told my current bf and said I need to reach out to him. He allowed it and things did not go well with my ex. I end up blocking him. Fast forward about 6 months and again he consumes my mind. I dont reach out as I know theres no point but I still want to.

I want so badly to be as connected as we were. He was funny, playful, cocky, but most of all real (or atleast it felt like it). Ive come to understand that I dont like him, but l miss the way I felt.

Today, I feel so empty. My current boyfriend just makes me anxious and judged. I dont love him but I want to because he is a good guy.

Yesterday I asked him, if I dissapeared, do you think I've made an impact on you. He said no. Hes told me he doesnt think I'm funny, he doesnt think Im smart, he just does not like me.

I want so badly to leave him. With college coming up, I told him I want to break up and he said no. I tried to pushback but it was still no. With me being such a coward I took his answer. I should stand on my ground but I dont.

Ive put myself in this situation and I just want advice.

I feel like I havent explained my situation the best I could and definitely left some things out. But, how do I get the ex off my mind. How do I salvage or break off this relationship.

My boyfriend, Jeff, who's 32, and I, 27, have been in a relationship for over a year now. He had only met my parents once during last year's holidays because they live quite a bit away from us. They decided to visit this past week to see our new apartment and spend more time with Jeff since we recently moved in together.

We have a spare bedroom in our place which Jeff has set up as his gaming sanctuary, but we both agreed it would serve as the guest room whenever we have visitors. Jeff is a big fan of video games and anime; he has this vast collection of figurines and posters from various series.

Among his collection are some items like an anime body pillow with a print of a scantily clad anime girl and a mousepad featuring a voluptuous anime character. I asked him to tidy up the room and put these particular items away before my parents arrived, aiming to make them comfortable. However, I was disappointed to find he hadn’t shifted the pillow or the mousepad.

I’m personally not very keen on those items, but since he's passionate about anime, I haven't made a big deal about it before. Though with my parents visiting, I believed those items weren't suitable for their stay. I discreetly removed the pillowcase and concealed the body pillow in the closet, and hid the mousepad in our bedroom drawer.

Upon their arrival, my parents were shown to their room, and later, Jeff noticed the changes. That night, he addressed the issue, challenging why I hid them. I explained that it was to ensure my parents’ comfort. He was clearly upset and felt that I was embarrassed by his interests in anime, accusing me of reacting like everyone else who had judged him over the years.

The following day, he began packing away his manga books from our living room. He defended his actions by suggesting he was safeguarding me from discomfort. This whole episode has been distressing; he's withdrawn and barely interacts with my folks. They sense something's off and keep questioning me, leaving me grappling with what to explain.

I'm torn; my intent wasn’t to hurt him but to manage the situation thoughtfully. Now, Jeff's feelings are hurt, and it has created a cold tension during what was supposed to be a happy family visit.

If this conflict was a segment on a reality TV show, the reactions would probably be explosively divided. Viewers might side with my protective nature regarding my parents' comfort, while others could argue that I should embrace Jeff's interests openly, regardless of the visit. Reality shows thrive on such drama, often amplifying the emotional stakes with dramatic music and cliffhanger cuts, possibly making the situation appear even more intense than it actually is. I can just imagine the online polls and social media buzz it would generate, questioning the balance between personal interests and respect towards one's partner.

Should I have respected my partner's interests more?

Is it me or are some song lyrics more relatable than others. One of the song lyrics I relate to is

"It was never to end like this"

"so go ahead and tell me what I did to deserve this " From Hurtlees by Dean Lewis. 🎵

This can be related to your mental health struggles or friendship that has ended.

You don’t really know it’s toxic when you’re a kid. It’s just your normal. You think everyone’s house is like this, that every kid walks on eggshells, trying not to set someone off. That it’s normal to feel your stomach drop when you hear a car pull in the driveway. That it’s just how things are when conversations go from 0 to screaming in seconds. But then you grow up, and you start seeing things differently. You hear your friends talk about their parents, the way they support them, how they actually listen when they have a problem, and it hits you—your childhood was not normal. It was not okay. And suddenly, everything you tried to ignorre, to downplay, to make excuses for, comes rushing back.

One of the biggest signs you grew up in a toxic family? You don’t know how to take a compliment. When someone says something nice about you, your first instinct is to brush it off, to laugh awkwardly, to assume they’re just being polite. Because you spent years being told you weren’t enough. Not smart enough, not good enough, not anything enough. And now, even when you know better, it’s like your brain refuses to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re actually worth something. Instead, you’re always waiting for the but. The insult that follows the rare compliment. "You did well on that test, but don’t get cocky." "You look nice today, but too bad you don’t dress like that all the time." So when someone is genuinely kind to you, you feel uncomfortable. Like it’s a trick. Like love and approval are things you have to earn, not just something you get for existing.

Another sign? You apologize. Constantly. For everything. Even thiings that aren’t your fault. You say sorry when someone bumps into you. You say sorry when you ask a question, when you talk too much, when you take up space. Because growing up, you learned that the smallest mistake could set someone off, that your feelings weren’t valid unless they were convenient for everyone else. So you learned to shrink yourself. To be small. To be invisible. And now, even when no one is mad at you, you still feel like you’re in trouble. Like at any moment, someone’s going to yell, to criticize, to make you feel like a burden. And the worst part? Half the time, you don’t even realize you’re doing it. It’s just who you are now.

And then there’s trust. Or, well, lack of it. Because when the people who were supposed to protect you, love you, make you feel safe, were the same ones who hurt you, lied to you, manipulated you… how are you supposed to just trust anyone? How are you supposed to believe people mean what they say, that they won’t turn on you the second you let your guard down? You don’t. Instead, you assume everyone has a hidden agenda. That every act of kindness has a cost. That no one stays, not really. And so, you keep your distance. You let people in just enough to not be alone, but never enough that they could actually hurt you. And maybe one day, you’ll learn how to unlearn all of this. How to stop waiting for the worst to happen. How to believe that love doesn’t have to be painful. But right now? Right now, you’re just trying to get through the day without feeling like you’re still stuck in a house you left years ago. 😓

I’m currently in family therapy with my dad, his new wife, my sister, and my new stepsiblings. My dad remarried two years ago following my mom's death, which means I now live primarily in one household. Adjusting to this blended family setup has been less than thrilling for me, despite understanding that the choice wasn’t mine to make.

Ever since my stepsiblings—who all suffer from severe food allergies—came into our lives, many aspects of our routine have drastically changed. For instance, a beloved tradition of visiting the local noodle bar to celebrate academic events is now off-limits because the menu doesn’t accommodate their dietary restrictions. Even simple pleasures like bringing ice cream home or whipping up a sandwich have been curtailed; now only my dad and his wife handle all the cooking.

Birthdays are another domain where adjustments have been made. The dining out choices now cater solely to what’s safe for my stepsiblings, sidelining my sister's and my preferred eating spots. My dad often expresses gratitude towards these changes in the spirit of family unity.

However, a few months back, my dad’s wife picked up on the lack of enthusiasm from my sister and me. Our disengagement sparked a decision to initiate family therapy, prompted by noticing that my sister had excluded her and her kids from some family photos she displayed in her room. Once therapy began, we spent session after session dissecting the issues, with my dad frequently championing the perks of our new family dynamics.

The tipping point arrived during a recent session when the therapist inquired if I was genuinely okay with these changes. That question unleashed all my pent-up frustrations. I vehemently expressed how much I disliked these changes and how they felt unjust. I highlighted how no one considered my preferences during birthday celebrations and how restrictive these new rules felt. My outburst covered the entire session, oscillating between my rant and responses to the therapist’s questions.

Both my dad and his wife were displeased with my outburst—him for my tone and her because her children overheard the passionate objections, which inadvertently revealed that I had never embraced these changes. She seemed unnerved by my monopolization of the therapy time, although she also appeared to acknowledge my feelings to an extent.

If this episode unfolded on a reality TV show, the reaction from viewers might be split. Some might sympathize with my need to maintain certain traditions and others could think that I was harsh and disrespectful. Reality shows thrive on portraying drama and intense emotions, so my outburst likely would have been highlighted as a pivotal, controversial moment, sparking debates and social media buzz.

Am I wrong for voicing my discomfort in this situation?

I often scratch myself when I’m triggered or angry and such and one time I got very upset and the scratches were prominent and a bit inflamed. I always did such thing discreetly so my parents wouldn’t notice but it was so inflamed and my mom noticed. She immediately got angry at me and told me that I’m stupid for harming myself and that it won’t solve anything and that I should just stop. Now I want to do it more. What should I do?

So basically, I'm in online class due to having this heart problem that's called VSD (ventricular septal defect), and it makes me lose my breath easily, and I get palpitations every time I run. So there's no hope of actually going to face-to-face schools due to walking long hallways and going up stairs. And there's barely anyone in my online class that I can be friends with. It makes me feel a little lonely, and I'm an introvert. But just because of the sole reason of wanting to be alone, I don't want to be lonely, y'know? And because my class starts from 8am to 4pm, I have to stay home for 8 hours, which makes me feel a little isolated inside my house. And when I go out, I can barely even have fun anymore since I always lose my breath so easily. I can't even swim in cold pools and beaches since I get cold so easily. At family gatherings, I can barely even hang out with my cousins since they go out every night. I can't, though. It's basically because I get cold so easily and I can quickly get sick and have a runny nose. I barely even have any friends to talk to; last time I went to school when my disability wasn't a challenge, I had tons of friends. But now, I've only had one friend from my old school that still keeps in touch with me. And she has regular class, so I can't really chat with her every day. Plus, I barely know anyone that shares the same interests as me. Sometimes during online classes, I use my phone during lessons. And technically, every now and then I use my phone to cope with the fact I barely have any friends to talk to and have fun with because I find it fun to use my phone since it's not reality; it's the opposite. It's getting out of reality.

Wrongfully accused and now wrongfully convicted and for what? I cheated on my then spouse, found myself in this whirl wind bad boy wrong side of the tracks lustfilled adventure only to wake up and find myZelf swept up in this unimaginable legal battle that I have lost. The judge bore down with that gavel and instantly my whole life came to a hault. One month. I've got one month left. One month left to be a daughter one month left to be a friend one month left to be my kids mother and I can't stand this anymore. The stress the anxiety the worry what will happen to my kids what will happen to my aging mother what will happen to me? I can't believe this is happening. One bad choice one wrong mistake my whole life gone . I want to scream I want to cry I want to die.

I hate it soo much!! I hate it here, I hate existing so badly because I'm anxious every single second, I feel as though everyone's eyes are on me, and every time I move, it feels like I'm a robot because I'm conscious of my every movement. I move and talk how people want me to, and it's so hard to be myself because I fear that I will be judged. My anxiety is so bad I can't even show my true colors to my friends. I know they're good people, but I'm just scared. So scared, you know? I know they won't judge for every little thing but even so, I'm terrified. My traumas won't let me be the person I wish to be; I'm always holding myself back because I'm just so anxious. I hate feeling like this because I'm wasting my whole life acting like someone I'm not.

I keep asking myself this question more than I should—am I good enough for her? She’s amazing. She’s 35, confident, elegant, makes six figures doing something I don’t even fully understand but sounds important as hell. Meanwhile, I’m 31, still figuring my career out, working in a jobb I’m not even sure I want long-term. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely lost—I’ve got a decent job, I pay my rent, I’m not some couch-hopping slacker. But when I look at her and then at myself, I can’t help but feel the gap. And it’s not just the money, even if that’s a big part of it. It’s the way she carries herself, the way people listen when she talks, the way her eyes light up when she’s explaining something she’s passionate about. And then there’s me, nodding along, trying not to sound like an idiot when I chime in.

She’s never made me feel lesser, not once. She’s kind, supportive, loving. When we’re together, I feel safe. But that little voice in my head doesn’t shut up. It whispers that I’m just the fun guy for now. That eventually, she’ll want more—someone who matches her pace, her level, her lifestyle. She takes me to these nice places, introduces me to her work friends, and I’m just there trying to keep up. They all seem so put together. Great jobs, great clothes, expensive watches and inside jokes about client calls and conferences in Zurich. I stand there with my craft beer and force a smile, wondering if they can see through me. If they can tell I don’t really belong in that circle. I feel like I’m pretending half the time. Like I’m her guest in a life that I don’t have the credentials for.

It messes with me more than I want to admit. I start holding back, second-guessing everrything. Like, should I even talk about my problems when hers are clearly so much more important? Should I even suggest where to go for dinner when she can afford places I’ve only ever walked past? It’s not that I expect her to change or that I resent her success—far from it. I admire her. But I’m scared that my admiration is turning into something poisonous. Like I’m not showing up as her partner, but as some guy who's constantly trying to catch up. And how long is that sustainable? I wonder if she notices when I flinch every time the bill comes and she insists on splitting it. Or when she mentions future plans and I pause, not because I don’t love her, but because I don’t know how I’d ever afford the kind of future she deserves.

Sometimes I think maybe I should just let her go. Not because I want to, but because it might be easier than this constant feeling of falling short. Maybe she’d be better off with someone more like her—someone who already owns a place, who already figured it all out. But then we’re alone together, and she’s lying on my chest, laughing at something dumb I said, and in those moments, I forget about everything else. I remember how much she chooses me, how she looks at me like I’m everything. And I start to believe, even just for a second, that maybe I am good enough. Maybe she sees something in me that I can’t see in myself yet. But it never lasts. The moment fades, and the doubts sneak back in.

I know part of this is my own baggage. I grew up thinking men were supposed to provide, to lead, to be the “stronger” one, whatever that even means anymore. And now here I am, with this incredible woman who checks all the boxes and then some, and I feel like I’m the one falling behind. Society doesn’t say it out loud, but it whispers just enough—if she’s ahead, maybe he’s not a real man. And that pressure, that outdated, toxic expectation, it’s crushing. I want to be proud of her, and I am, but I also want to be proud of myself. And right now? I’m not. I feel stuck in this in-between, where I love her so much but don’t know how to let myself feel worthy of being loved back.

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring it out. But maybe writing this, admitting this, is the first step. Maybe I don’t have to be perfect to be good enough. Maybe I just need to believe what she already seems to believe—that I have value, not because of my salary or status, but because of who I am with her. It’s not easy. I still have a long way to go. But I’m trying. I’m trying to silence the doubt, to be present, to show up for her and for myself. Because if there’s even a chance that I am good enough, then I owe it to both of us to stop running from the question—and start proving it to myself.

(Convo I had with my bf this morning, we started off talking about Papa by Rosendale)

me: yeah so I can’t play that song for my dad bc of that one part, he’s gonna be like “oH tHIs Guy Is TRaNS???” nah man he’s just gay

him: heh… your boyfriend is trans!

(there were two kids behind who went to the same middle school as us and had just heard that)

me: (nervous) the fact that you just said that with those two behind us (laughs it off nervously)

him: OH SHI- oh well I don’t care what they think

me: yeah, well I do… (I turned and went down the nearest stairway, usually me and him go down the second stairs instead of the first and hang out under the stairs over there, but I went down the first and then just went to class as fast as possible)

like I know he doesn’t care what people think but I do and he probably knows that

this was actually so upsetting I immediately found my friend/platonic child Allen (not real name) and vented to him about it like-

I'm not ok, I think. I haven't slept in three days, haven't eaten a thing today except for some Smarties and don't plan to eat anything else. I just feel like I'm sinking in the deep end. All my friends are changing and I'm left behind, the same as I've always been, wondering where everyone else went. I just need to grow up, people tell me that all the time, sometimes to be reassuring and sometimes to be insulting, but I can't, I don't change even when everyone else does. I'll always be me, the one who hides everything inside and only shows people what they want, but yet I'm still hated and ridiculed because I did something wrong, because I refused someone's help, because I forgot to be who they wanted me to be. I just wish I could show them the person inside, with no fear that they'd hate me more than they do. Everyone around me only tolerates me, and barely at that. Maybe I'm being a drama queen, people often say that I am, but I'm just so sick and tired of being misunderstood. They see me as an attention seeker when I try to hint at the fact that maybe I need more help than I'm letting on. Everyone's tired of my crap. I constantly give people issues, I start fights, I don't deserve to be here. People would be better off without me. Don't worry, I have something to remind me that death is never the only way out of things. But that reminder hasn't been working as well lately. Nobody really even likes me. I'm a hypocrite, and idiot, a weirdo, and nuisance, a burden on this world. I'm hanging on but barely. I keep stumbling through the tunnel but the light is getting dimmer. The clouds are coming back. The sun is gone. I am unlovable and unloved. No one wants to even try with me anymore. And it's not like I can tell anyone this. They'd never understand.

I'm currently in my 32nd week of pregnancy with our first child, which my husband, Felix, and I are very excited about. Luckily, Felix works as a builder, so setting up the nursery was a breeze. We decided early on the style and theme we wanted, and now it's almost finished. It feels great getting this big task out of the way before the baby arrives.

However, my mother-in-law, who has always been a bit overbearing, has been a challenge, even more so after learning about the pregnancy. Despite trying to be supportive, her approach can be critical. For instance, she once suggested I should lose weight for the sake of my health and the baby's, fully aware of my past battles with anorexia. Usually, I let Felix handle her because of her overbearing nature.

Lately, as the nursery neared completion, her pop-ins have increased—especially inconvenient since I work from home. She often comes in, casually asks about my meals, and proceeds to invite herself to join. She doesn’t stop there, though; she often heads straight into the nursery and begins rearranging what Felix and I have set up.

Yesterday was particularly trying. She arrived unexpectedly, criticized my attire, and made a scene about changes I made in the nursery for safety reasons, like removing pillows and fairy lights from near the crib. I tried to explain, but she retorted with outdated advice and hurtfully questioned my potential as a mother. Overwhelmed and tired, I finally snapped and asked her to leave, which she did, albeit begrudgingly.

I wonder if I overreacted; Felix is already planning to speak with her about respecting our boundaries. But was it just pregnancy hormones, or was I right to stand my ground?

Honestly, I imagine if this were to happen on a reality show, the audience would probably be split. Some might cheer for standing up to such an invasive mother-in-law, while others might think I was harsh, interpreting my reaction as part of a dramatic storyline. Reality show or not, it's hard balancing others' expectations with your own during such a vulnerable time.

Was my reaction to my MIL over the top?

My partner Eric, whom I've shared a loving companionship with for nearly a decade, has always been on the heavier side, tipping the scales at about 242 pounds (110 kg). He's sensitive about his weight and doesn't even like appearing without a shirt. We've been cohabiting for three years and his body image issues have always been a subtle undercurrent in our relationship.

Recently, I splurged on a pricey ergonomic chair that cost me over $1,500. It's a special chair designed for petite individuals like myself, and it comes with a strict weight limitation of 100 kg. Despite my repeated, gentle reminders, Eric sometimes uses the chair, which I reluctantly tolerate because he shares all his things with me without hesitation.

Today, however, when he once again settled into my chair, my patience waned. I usually avoid conflict, but being under the weather and slightly irritable, I explicitly expressed my concerns. I explained that my issue wasn't him using my belongings, but specifically the chair that isn't built to support his weight, emphasizing how expensive it was and the lack of remedy if it were to break under him.

This revelation upset him profoundly. Now, Eric is avoiding eye contact and ignoring my attempts at conversation. I might have been direct in my wording, but was striving to clarify the rationale behind my repeated requests rather than hurt his feelings.

If this scene were part of a reality show, imagine the dramatic music and tension as the camera zooms in on our faces during the confrontation. Viewers would likely be on the edge of their seats, split between sympathizing with my concern for the pricey chair and empathizing with Eric's hurt feelings. It would be discussed fervently on social media, with people taking sides and debating personal space versus sharing in a relationship.

Am I wrong here for insisting on my point?