Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I don't know where else to vent, I feel like I've unloaded enough on a friend of mine and don't want to burden him any longer so...

My Grandma passed away not too long ago and there's some drama going on about the will. Apparently, some aunts and uncles have been manipulating Grandma to give them more things or be given things that other people have taken better care of. Like my cousin wanted to buy Grandma's house after she was moved out of it and she was willing to sell. But then some aunts got in her ear and made her make my cousin pay more for the house. One of the aunts said I would be named in the inheritance, my Mom thinks it's because Dad died and his portion would be split with his kids. She told me not to sign off on anything.

Then again I've heard her non-stop complaining about everything about Dad's side of the family which increased after he died. Pretty much have been discouraged from talking to anyone other than a select few she likes. Part of me understands considering some drama but also feel like she doesn't have the best judgement. She tends to talk down to me even though I'm an adult now and constantly calls me wet behind the ears even when I express interest in going outside my comfort zone and doing new experiences to be not so wet. But of course, she's the Mom and I'm the child so in her opinion she seems to know everything and she's always right, and I'm always wrong. When she asked for my credit card password and I said no she was all "Thank you for trusting me." But who in their right mind would share their credit card password with anyone? Who knows where that info will end up? Then there was the time in high school when I started having a tough time and asked if I could go to the doctor's to see if I had depression. But of course, she said no, I didn't have depression because I didn't act like she did when she had depression. Later I would get so nervous about school that I would get physically ill and I eventually called the doctor myself. And what do you know, I was prescribed anti-depressants. Recently, I was diagnosed with blood clots in my lungs but before that, I had a really bad cold that even took away my voice for a bit. But one night it got so bad I couldn't sleep and my chest was in serious pain. I had a bad feeling so I called 811, they suggested I get Mom to take me to a hospital. I tried to get her to but she refused, insisting it wasn't that serious. But it didn't get better and after half an hour I called a cab to take me to the hospital. There I was diagnosed with pneumonia and stayed there for just over a week, even spent two days in the ICU. When Mom finally came she was all apologetic but when I was checked out I learned she told relatives and friends the reason she didn't take me was because I wasn't clear enough. Even though both the 811 operator and cab driver saw it was urgent and that I was having trouble breathing. It was clear enough for them but not for her?

I believe she thinks I'm a goddamn idiot and so naive I need to have my hand held for every goddamn thing. If I could move out and cut out most people from the family I could but apparently I was hit with anti-employer spray because I can't get a job in my field to save my life. I feel useless but also feel like I could snap at any second. When I tell Mom how I feel, she turns it around and says it's my own fault for feeling that way. When I tell my siblings they either go on about how both sides are to blame or take Mom's side. The same Mom that screamed at them for other things, including one where she threatened to disinherit one of them from Dad's will for not doing what she wants. Granted it involved staying with a not-so-great romantic partner but her having a fucking meltdown only pushed that sibling further into the arms of the fucking creep so it took longer for my sibling to finally break it off with that jerk.

I do have a therapist that I talk to but he's not cheap and I leave still feeling furious. He does give good advice but I never feel myself in the right headspace to act on said advice.

It feels like I'm in a fucking soap opera only the people around me seem to think I'm oblivious to the whole shitshow. It feels like I'm one bad day away from exploding and I don't know how to defuse this timebomb.

I recently encountered a situation that left me questioning whether people were being unnecessarily rude or just a tad too candid. As a 27-year-old mother of quadruplets, who just turned 2, I decided it was time they learned how to swim. This past week, my husband, two of his buddies, and I accompanied the kids to their first swimming lessons. Due to their young age, each child required the presence of an adult during the class, and since all four were scheduled at the same time, I needed all the help I could get from our little supportive team.

During the lessons, it seemed like every other child was accompanied by their moms or female guardians, all of whom were dressed in shorts and t-shirts for their swim attire. My husband and his friends wore regular swim trunks and no shirts. I opted for a two-piece swimsuit. It was nothing overly revealing; however, my midriff and back were visible. I didn’t initially notice or mind what everyone else was wearing until about halfway through the week, and everything seemed perfectly ordinary until the courses concluded on Friday.

As we were all changing and preparing to leave, a few mothers approached me. They chose that moment to express their discomfort with my choice of swimwear throughout the week. They calmly informed me that while they did not want to create an awkward atmosphere during the sessions, they found my two-piece swimsuit inappropriate due to my exposed stretch marks, which I have quite prominently from carrying quadruplets. They even suggested that I should cover up more if I plan to continue attending classes with my children. I questioned them about their thoughts on the men’s attire, and they dismissed it, indicating that the issue was specifically with my "baby belly."

Now that I'm back home, I’ve been torn over their comments. Were they crossing a line, or was I thoughtless about the expectations of others at such a gathering? My husband reassured me that I had nothing to worry about, but it seems like the other mothers felt quite differently. Am I in the wrong here?

I can’t help but wonder how this scenario would play out if it were part of a reality TV show. Would the audience side with me, seeing the others as overly critical, or would they agree that a more conservative outfit is appropriate for a mother in a public setting like a children’s swimming class?

Do you think my swimwear choice at kid's swim lessons was inappropriate?

I'm just genuinely sick of everything

I am 17 and I really do not get why my mom is always yelling at me, like seriously what is even happening here. I try so hard to be a good daughter, not in some fake way either, I mean for real. I clean the kitchen without being asked most days, I wash dishes, I fold clothes even when they are not mine, I help with groceries, I keep my room pretty clean, I do my homework on time, I study a lot, and my grades are very good, like I am not out here failing classes or sneaking around or doing wild stuff. I am polite too, maybe too polite, because even when she is already mad I still say okay mom and sorry mom and I keep my voice low because I do not want more drama. But still she yells. She yells if I am doing something, and she yells if I am not doing something, and sometimes I swear she yells before I even understand what she wants. Yesterday I was literally wiping the table after dinner and she came in and said I never help in this house, and I just stood there with the rag in my hand feeling so dumb and small. Like what was I supposed to say, do you see me or not. One time I got a 95 on a test and I was actually happy, like wow maybe she will be proud for once, and all she said was why not 100, and then later she got mad because I was studying in my room and not downstairs where she could “see me doing something.” How am I meant to win that. I am asking for real, what do people even do when no answer is the right answer. Do you ever feel like someone already decided you are a problem and now everything you do looks wrong to them. Because that is how it feels in my house almost every day. I wake up tense already, listening to her footsteps, trying to guess what mood it is gonna be. If I say good morning and she sounds annoyed, my whole chest just drops. If I stay quiet, then I am “cold” or “have an attitude.” If I ask if she needs help, she says I should already know. If I start helping on my own, she says I am doing it the wrong way. I am not saying I am perfect because duh I am 17 and I forget stuff sometimes, I leave a glass in my room sometimes, I get tired, I get moody, normal stuff, but the way she reacts is like I ruined everything and I do not think that is fair. It makes me doubt myself a lot, like maybe I am secretly awful and just cannot see it, but then I look at what I actually do all day and I am like no, this is too much, this cannot all be my fault.

What really gets me is that I keep trying harder and it changes nothing, which is such a miserable feeling. A few weeks ago I made sure the living room was all neat, I finished a school project early, I even made tea for her because she looked stressed, and later that night she started yelling because I forgot to move one bag from the hallway. One bag. Like that was enough to erase everything else. I said sorry right away and moved it, but she kept going on and on about how I make life harder for her, and I just wanted to cry because I honestly do not know how much more careful a person can be before they stop being a person and just turn into some nervous robot. Sometimes I think maybe she is stressed and taking it out on me, and I try to be understanding because life is hard and money is tight and adults have problems they do not talk about, so I do try to be reasonable. I am not sitting here acting like moms are not human. But at the same time, why am I the one getting hit with all the shouting when I am the one helping. Why am I the easy target just because I am there and quiet and trying. Last month I had this long school day and I came home tired but still started dinner stuff because she was late, and when she got home she yelled that the onions were cut too thick. I am not joking. Too thick. I just said okay, I can cut them smaller next time, and then she got even more mad like my calm voice annoyed her too. That happens a lot actually. It is like if I defend myself, I am disrespectful, but if I stay calm, I am “acting smart.” So tell me, what is left. Am I supposed to disappear. I love my mom, which makes this worse because I do not want to hate being around her, but lately I hear her call my name and my stomach drops right away. I keep wondering if one day she will notice I am trying, or if she already knows and just does not care because yelling is easier. Maybe she thinks it makes me better somehow, but it does not, it just makes me tired and weirdly empty. I still do my chores, still get my grades, still try to be nice, because that is just who I am and I do not want to become rude or lazy from being treated unfair. But honestly I am starting to feel dumb for hoping every day will be different. Maybe tomorrow she will be normal, maybe tomorrow she will not snap because I closed a cabinet too loud or folded towels “wrong” or sat down for five minutes after school. Maybe. But then tomorrow comes and it is the same thing again, and I sit there thinking, why is my mom yelling at me, and I never get a real answer.

I don’t understand it. My son is 10 years old, and to the outside world, he’s the sweetest, most polite kid ever. Teachers love him, other parents compliment me on how well-mannered he is, and whenever we go somewhere, he’s always the one saying “thank you” and “please” and acting like a perfect angel. But the second we’re alone, the second we get home and the door closes—it’s like he’s a completely different child. He snaps at me, rolls his eyes, sighs like everything I say is the most annoying thing in the world. I ask him to do something, and it’s “ugh, do I have to??” or “why can’t you do it yourself?” but if his teacher asks? Oh, he’s doing it without a problem. If his friend’s mom tells him something, he listens immediately. But me? The person who does everything for him? I get attitude. I get disrespect. And I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

I try so hard to be patient, to not take it personally, but honestly? It hurts. I see the way he is with others, how easy it is for him to be kind and gentle with everyone except me, and I start questioning everything. Am I too strict? Too soft? Am I doing something that makes him resent me? I read all these articles saying “kids act out with their parents because they feel safe”, but I’m sorry, that doesn’t make it easier. Knowing that he trusts me enough to let out his emotions doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting when he rolls his eyes at me like I’m the most annoying person on earth. I know kids push boundaries with their parents, I get it. But when your own child treats strangers better than the person who loves him the most? It’s a different kind of pain. And it makes me scared, scared that one day, when he’s older, this won’t stop. That he’ll always see me as the one person he doesn’t have to be kind to.

I’ve tried talking to him about it. I’ve asked him why he acts this way, why he can be so good for everyone else but not for me. And every time, I get the same answer—"I don't know." Like, he genuinely doesn't think about it. It’s not like he’s making some big decision to treat me worse than everyone else, it just happens. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s so used to me being here, being his person, the one who will love him no matter what, that he doesn’t feel like he has to be nice. But why does that make it okay? Why does unconditional love mean I have to be the emotional punching bag? I’m his mother, not his verbal stress ball.

I love my son more than anything, but some days, it’s hard not to feel unappreciated. Some days, I wish he could see how much effort I put in, how much I give to make sure he’s happy, safe, taken care of. I wish he would look at me the way he looks at his teachers, his friend’s parents, the nice lady at the grocery store. But most of all? I wish I knew that this is just a phase. That one day, he’ll realize how much I love him, how much I’ve done, and he’ll choose to be kind to me the same way he is to everyone else. Because right now? Right now, I feel like I’m giving my whole heart to someone who barely notices.

not my typical post this is a horror but no option for horror

this is chapwr one lmk what u guys think

Chapter One — The Hollow Tree

I ran but she caught me when the moon slipped behind the clouds and the world went silent.

Her grip closed around my ankle with a strength that belonged to graves and forgotten things. I fell hard, the breath knocked from my lungs, my palms sinking into the cold mulch of the forest floor. Dead leaves clung to my skin like the hands of the unburied, and for one hopeless moment I imagined that I, too, was sinking—downward—into the dark earth they all returned to.

A low hum trembled through the soil. A voice without words. A summons.

I twisted to look behind me.

I should not have.

She emerged from the dark like a memory that should have died centuries ago—long limbs bending in wrong directions, bones clicking against each other like rosary beads in restless hands. Her hair, long and dripping, veiled most of her face, though the smallest sliver of a grin stretched beneath it, white as moonlit marble and sharp as split stone.

The forest held its breath.

Even the wind dared not speak.

“Please,” I whispered, though my voice felt like it belonged to someone already fading.

Her head tilted. Not with mercy—no creature of mercy would be found in this place—but with recognition. As though she had been waiting, patient and starving, for the moment I would return.

The stories had warned me. My grandmother’s voice echoed, faint and trembling, from the deepest corners of childhood: Do not run from the Hollow Woman. She will come faster. Do not speak to her. She will hear you for a century. Do not look back. She is always closer than you think.

Yet I had done all three.

Her fingers tightened, cold as river stones, and she dragged me across the earth toward the hollow tree ahead—a towering corpse of a once-mighty oak, its trunk split open by some ancient and merciless storm. The gap gaped like a mouth, the inside impossibly dark, impossibly deep, as though it tunneled straight into the underworld.

The closer we drew, the more the forest changed. The trees bowed inward, crooked like mourners at a funeral. A smell seeped from the hollow—wet soil, rotting bark, and beneath it something sweet, like overripe fruit left too long in the sun.

“No,” I gasped, clawing at the ground. My nails scraped through moss and root, catching on stones slick with dew. My body obeyed terror’s instinct, but my mind was trapped in the slow, creeping dread that had haunted me since I first heard her voice two nights ago.

It had come with the storm.

I had been lying in my grandmother’s abandoned house—our ancestral ruin—when the lightning split the sky and the walls groaned like a living thing. A whisper curled through the cracks in the floorboards, thin as winter breath: Come back to me.

I thought it was grief. Or loneliness. Or the house settling around its last inhabitant.

But then the whisper came again.

And again.

And last night, when the moon was whole and bright, I saw her standing beneath the oak tree at the edge of the forest, her shadow stretching longer than her body should allow.

She had been waiting.

“Not yet,” I murmured, desperate, choking on soil as I fought against her grasp. “Please—not yet.”

For the first time, she paused.

Her grip, though unyielding, stilled. Slowly, achingly slowly, her face lifted, and beneath the curtain of her tangled hair I saw the hollow where her eyes should have been—deep, shadowed pits that seemed to draw in the light around them.

When she spoke, it was not with a voice but with a sound like roots cracking beneath frozen ground.

“You left me.”

My heart stuttered. A coldness spread through my chest, not the fear she inflicted but something older, deeper, something that knew her.

Because I had left her.

I didn’t understand why or how—but the moment she spoke, the truth whispered beneath my memory like something long buried scratching at the coffin lid.

“I don’t remember,” I whispered, and my own words tasted wrong, as if they were stolen from someone else’s mouth.

She dragged me another inch toward the hollow tree.

The moon finally slipped from behind the clouds then, its pale, shivering light spilling across us. For a moment—just a moment—she stopped moving. Her body stiffened. Her smile dropped into a grim line carved of stone.

The moonlight touched her skin, and she recoiled as though burned.

I felt her grip loosen.

Only a little.

Only enough.

With a cry torn raw from my throat, I twisted sharply, kicking with all the panic of a creature half-dead and unwilling to finish the job. My heel struck something soft—her face, perhaps—and her grip faltered.

I scrambled backward, breath ragged, legs shaking so violently they barely obeyed me. She hissed, a sound like a dying wind through hollow places.

But she did not lunge.

She watched.

The moonlight kept her rooted.

I staggered to my feet. Pain lanced up my knee. Blood soaked into my sock. Yet I ran—not with hope, but with the terror of someone who knows the night is far from over.

Behind me, her voice seeped through the trees like mist:

“When the moon dies, you are mine again.”

And above the forest canopy, the clouds thickened—slowly smothering the light that protected me.

I’m so so frustrated, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I had this childhood best friend ( friends since age 3 ) who I dearly loved but as days went by she kept getting so toxic. For example she started hiding stuff from me while she told those same things to our other friends ( we are in the same friend group ). She went abroad for university while I stayed back and I was at peace for a while but recently I kept seeing that she becomes online whenever I am online. On my birthday she randomly posted a story where she posted pictures of our other friends and wrote “ Family “ . I mean obviously she can put pictures of our friends but why on my birthday????. Am I overthinking this?

What’s worse is that I keep dreaming about her, that we are normal, that she apologized, that we talk about what went wrong and it’s messing with my head. I know it was toxic and I know we are better off like this but I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. I miss her so much?

I keep thinking that it’s my fault that everything turned out like this.

“Can I tell you a secret? Well… it’s not really a secret anymore, since you know it, but nonetheless… I need to share something that has weighed on me for as long as I can remember.”

I was a victim of cocsa like when I was young maybe 4-5 my cousins and me were in a big gallon like a big one where you store water in them my mom got me from my dad (they were separated since I was born ) then leaves me on my cousin's house they set up for that big gallon for us to like take a bath and play it was big and deep like I could hide inside it and need assistance getting out we played right and then my girl cousin said to position his younger brother ( my boy cousin) at my back and I thought it was a game so I didn't question and just did it anyway and he started pulling his pants down and rubbing his thing in my thighs I told them to stop and my girl cousin said that he won't stop until he realises after that I've became hypersexual,then when I was seven me and my grandparents were in Mindanao and there's this boy who's older than me (I was 6 and a half and he was like 12-14 ) idk he then kissed me and touched me between my thighs until it reaches my private parts and stuff I didn't fight cause I thought it was normal and stuff and he told me not to say it to anyone that same boy had a brother he then asked his brother if he can pull out his Weiner and like go at my back while I was drawing when I turned around I was traumatized and I told my grandparents and they told me that it was fine cause he was young and so... After that I went to my cousin's home cause my mom didn't want me in hers anymore and said we needed space and stuff and they would touch me when I was asleep I would wake up with a hand on my ass or my breasts (that's why I go to sleep with my bra on) they would grope me make me sexualizes things and so telle it was all a game and so (the same cousins in the first part) then this happened the two of them fought and me and my boy cousin were sharing a bed then I woke up with pain in my ass and I realised he slid a finger in he then touched my private parts and proceeded to touch my chest but I holded a pillow tight so he couldn't ( I was pretending to be asleep and jolted or move so he would take the finger out) then they still grope me him and her sister she would hold my ass or my boob or my private parts when I was a sleep same with his brother which is my mothers favourite ( my mother wished that it was him that was her child and constantly compares him with me not only her also my stepdad he took him out for movie in his birthday I didn't even know or cared honestly what made me cared when they said " noticed how your step dad and your sister went into movie after that we also took your cousin ( the boy for the movie) and we didn't took you we actuallyade some excuse we were buying a washing machine ) I wanted to scream and tell them what they did to me that time or the fact that my grandfather (mother side) masturbated at my back was normal ..................... I told them at first I thought they were really concerned cause of their reaction they told me if I wanted to report it but my mother said that it would hurt her ( though she physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically abused me) cause it's her sisters son then after a week or two they treat him like nothing ever happened,and even invites him to sleep there I CANT SLEEP PROPERLY I HAVE INSOMNIA SCARED THAT SOMEONE WILL TOUCH ME WHEN IM UNCONSCIOUS I WAS SCARED THAT WHAT IF HE'D ALREADY TOOK MY VIRGINITY AND I DIDN'T KNOW I FELT DIRTY I FELT UNWORTHY I FELT LIKE SOMEONE CRUSHED ME and they ask me why Im not close with them? They ask me why I don't trust them

ever had one of those holiday flings that just knocked you on your ass???? well, that was me this summer. spent almost a month with this guy and damn, those were some of the best days of my life!!! first real love, you know??? now i'm back home and honestly, it feels like i'm missing a part of myself. it’s been 4 months and i can’t shake him off my mind. 🤷‍♀️

back then, everything was freaking perfect. sun, sea, and him—the trifecta!!!!!! we did all the typical touristy crap, but somehow, it never felt cliché, just magical. every night we'd hit up the beach, talk about shit, and it was like our souls were vibing, ya know? or maybe it was just the cocktails talking, hell if i know!!! one night, i swear, he said he loved me. and i believed it. god, was i naive for buying that??? but in the moment, i didn't give a damn. 😏💔

now back home, drowning in real life bullshit. college sucks, friends are the same old buzzkills, and doesn't help when all i think about is him. texting is alright, but it's sooooo different than hanging out. 🙄 long-distance blows. what’s the point?????? can’t help but wonder if he even misses me or moved on. was it all just a sick joke???? but if it was, why was it so damn sweet????

everyone says move on, "there's more fish in the sea," right???? i'm not buying that crap right now. it’s annoying how everyone pretends to know better. like, maybe I want to hold on to this pain a bit more, learn from it, i guess. love is a goddamn emotional rollercoaster. anyone else ride this hellish ride too???? honestly, i just want to scream and maybe slap some sense into myself. but hey, life goes on, yeah???? just wished he was still in it...

I feel like we can't talk at all, friends. I feel like we can't talk much on social media. We're judged too much. On Telegram, I'm judged too much. A strange guy came to judge me as crazy. To speak to me in charming, meaningless language. To tell me that what I write formally is hurting the group. Who does he think he is? I can express myself however I want. When I write these posts with beautiful formality, with the desire to see beautifully what's happening to me, what's happening to me, I feel that instead of inspiring him to be a better person, he actually backs down.

How is it possible that posts like mine, which offer such a detailed analysis of my behavior? Very pleasant, very detailed, very beautiful, and also written with refined data, can inspire such destructive criticism as to say that I'm hurting the group, that I'm making it difficult for the group to coexist. Doesn't he realize that what he's providing is an improvement? How disrespectful.

Why, instead of hindering good progress, don't you go somewhere else to do it? There was a guy who wanted to be my ceiling, and I didn't like that. I don't think anyone does. I hate that guy deeply; it doesn't do me any good. Those people who put a ceiling on someone aren't good people. They're always obstacles. By the way, there's a space on Telegram where they tell me that their space is the privileged one for expressing themselves, as if they were the superiors; it turns out I'm very distrustful. It's impossible that I found one of those people in an emotional support group. How is it possible that I found a guy like that?

The previous day, along with a classmate, they told me I was an artificial intelligence. That they should kick me out of the group for that. Can you believe it? I can't believe that because of my writing style, which is what I mentioned above, they considered me one of those things. The problem isn't that; the point is that they told me they should kick me out. How are they going to kick me out after expressing myself? How, after expressing myself through my beautiful writings, are they proposing to kick me out? It was something I couldn't believe. They were monsters. I couldn't believe it. The other guy I mentioned, the one I mentioned earlier, told me I was an artificial intelligence. He insisted, even when I told him no thousands of times. The guy I mentioned earlier insisted, despite being scolded, that I was an artificial intelligence. They even went so far as to claim that my writings couldn't have been written by a human being. I felt extremely offended, angry. I'd never encountered such an offense to myself.

It was like feeling like I had no place anywhere, friends. That my voice, my words, my desire to improve, had no place anywhere. It was one of the most terrifying experiences I'd ever experienced. How could they kick me out of anywhere for expressing myself? Besides a place of support?! It was something I couldn't believe. I wanted to die after that. I never thought I'd have such an experience, ever. Besides, my writing was beautiful, pretty, precious, and didn't bother anyone. They only considered it harmful because it bothered others, because their writing style wasn't theirs. Because I wasn't like them, should I leave? Or should I lower myself to being like them? Everyone's writing is a very personal thing; or rather, their improvement, because that's what I aim for with these writings. It's working with anxiety. How the hell could they frame my process? That's harmful to anyone's health! Both physically and emotionally! How can monsters like that exist on social media? I still can't believe it. It was a truly terrifying experience.

I just wanted to write calmly in that Telegram group. Relaxed, calm. And that's what happens to me. Also, for a long time now, I've been in need of consolation. I confess, I need to talk a lot. I feel very accomplished about things. I feel like I need to talk to someone, but they're not there. She's a girl who should have arrived a long time ago, but she hasn't. I don't know where she is, and I'm worried about her. I don't know what to do about her. I feel like something happened to her or something. I don't know where she is. I swore I'd leave her—I confess—so I could get her out of a negative situation, so she'd somehow reach out to me, and yet she hasn't. I've seen it work with other people, but not with me. Well, I'm being grim: I respected her space. I feel like that's why she should come. Knowing she's with a respectful person, who gives her peace, who doesn't control her life. Why isn't her life coming? Could it be that someone managed to control her life and I don't know them? I feel like she doesn't value the effort I'm making to wait for her. I don't know what to do to run into her. She was supposed to be my life partner, at least, that's what I expected. I feel like I wasted my time looking for a way for her to be with me, also for her pleasure. It can't be that she did this to me, it can't be that she's I'm going through this. This is hell. How could I have lost her?

being in your twenties

like what the hell? is it okay to be such a mess?

seriously Nothing is working for me am so tired like does it ever get better

I love my best friend so much she seriously means the world to me but I just need to vent about something. Since ive met her she’s always been a very negative person. She constantly makes choices she knows she’s going to regret with money and school and men then when those choices bite her in the ass she plays the victim. Nothing is her fault and there’s always something wrong. I’ve never answered the phone and had her tell me something is going good. She used to be part of the family everyone loved her but she drove everyone crazy with her constant negativity and whining that I don’t even want to bring her around my family (That and one of her bad decisions with men was with my cousin). My 21st is coming up and I’m so scared she’s going to ruin it or turn it into a pity party, and if she does I’m scared my family is going to say something to upset her. I’ve been working on myself a lot and I’ve been so much happier lately with what I’ve been doing but talking to her brings me down a lot when all she does is complain. With anyone else on earth o would just simply talk to them but I can’t with her she’s very sensitive and everything is a touchy subject with her. I can be myself around my friends and family and I can with her but there’s many moments where I have to walk around on eggshells. I know I’m complaining about her but I really do love her she’s my best friend and we’ve been through a lot together I just needed to get this out.

this happened two years ago now, but I cannot look at her without sobbing. for some backstory, we were both teens when this happened, both females. we're gonna call her fay. well, fay had just gotten into a relationship and she loved her girlfriend. I was her best friend at the time, but fay wanted more, and she liked to remind me of this. she would always be all over me, touching me in ways that made me sooooooo uncomfortable. it got to a point I screamed in the middle of the mall in town that I'd call her girlfriend and she snatched my phone out of my hands and begged for me not to. well, she had forced me to shower with her and pulled my bathing suit top down. she also attempted to "get in my pants." WELL. fay started cheating on her girlfriend. and this happened many, many times. when I told said girlfriend, fay blamed an unaliving attempt on me because of her actions. I blocked her and had a panic attack nearly all night because I genuinely thought I had done something wrong. guess what? they're still together. now, fay is trying to be my friend again. she showed up to color guard auditions and I had to run away crying because she loves to take things I've loved: guard, instruments, names, clothing styles, music tastes, so on and so forth. what do I do? how do I keep distance, and how can I process everything? I don't know.

lately, it’s like i’m walking around in my own body but everything feels off. like im not really here, like someone swapped out the real me and left this weird, tired, distant version behind. i still do all the same things—wake up, go to work, see people, even laugh at jokes—but none of it feels right. there’s this weird fog in my head, and even when im smiling, it doesn’t feel real. i keep thinking back to how i used to be. more energetic, more excited, more… alive, i guess. but now? now i just go through the motions and hope no one notices how weird everything feels inside. it’s like my brain is on autopilot and i’m just watching. and what’s worse is i can’t even explain it properly when someone asks what’s wrong? cuz i don’t know. i don’t know when it started, or why, or what triggered it. all i know is that i don’t feel like myself anymore—and that terrifies me.

some days are worse than others. sometimes i wake up and for a second i feel okay, like maybe today’s the day it breaks and i’ll feel normal again. but then something small happens—like i forget something stupid or someone says something in a tone that hits wrong—and boom, it’s back. the emptiness, the disconnection. i try to force myself to do the things i used to love. music, movies, friends, even food. but they don’t hit the same. i keep waiting to feel something spark again, something that says “yes, this is you,” but it just… doesn’t come. nd the more i try to force it, the more fake i feel. like i’m pretending to be okay because im supposed to be okay. i mean, nothing major is happening, i have a roof, a job, people around me. but still, this weight sits on me like i’m broken in a way no one else can see.

i thought maybe it was stress. maybe burnout or something. or maybe it’s just one of those phases people go through when they’re figuring stuff out. but it’s been weeks now, maybe even months, and i still don’t feel right. i’ve started pulling away from people cuz i don’t know how to be around them when i feel like a stranger in my own skin. i cancel plans or show up and zone out the whole time. nd it’s not that i don’t love my friends, i do. but i feel like im watching myself from the outside, doing and saying what i’m supposed to, while inside i’m just numb. or sad. or tired. or all of it. nd it makes me feel guilty too. like i’m wasting time, ruining things, making people worry when i don’t even have a good reason. so i just say i’m fine, just tired, hoping no one digs deeper, cuz i wouldn’t even know what to tell them if they did.

i just want to feel like me again. i want to wake up and not feel like i’m bracing for something i can’t even name. i want to look in the mirror and recognize what’s behind my eyes, not this dull, distant look that doesn’t match the person i remember being. i miss that version of me—the one who laughed loud without forcing it, who got excited over small things, who didn’t feel so... out of place in her own life. i don’t know how to get back there. or if i even can. but i’m trying. slowly. some days, just getting out of bed feels like progress. and maybe that’s all i can do right now. keep trying, keep showing up, even if i feel like a ghost of myself. cuz somewhere deep down, i know i’m still here. i have to believe that. even if i don’t feel like myself right now... maybe, someday, i will again.

I'm not super close with my family but like they aren't bad people. I have no idea if I'm overreacting but it feels like I'm just a stranger hanging out in their house. It's really obvious that they like my brother more which really hurts because I try so much to be the perfect kid and I just can't do it. Once my dad was trying to have a sweet moment with me and he said "I love you (brothers name)". Honestly it really shook me up to realize that they don't even think about me. I have no idea if I'm over reacting but like it feels like they just kinda put up with me.