Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

i dunno how many times i’ve been through this but it always feels like the first time. you meet someone, you get your hopes up, you think maybe this time it’s different, maybe she actually sees something in you—then boom! ghosted or hit with the “you’re nice but…” line. why is it always that?! why do they go on dates if they already not interested?? like, if u don’t want a second date, don’t go on the first one, right? 😑 it’s not like i’m weird or creepy or anything. i just try to be myself, talk, listen, smile—normal stuff. but somehow it never clicks. it’s always one or two dates, then silence. sometimes i even check my texts 20 times a day like an idiot waiting for replies that never come. pathetic. it’s not like i’m expecting a fairytale, but at least some honesty would be nice!

i’m 21, still a virgin, not that it matters but somehow it feels like it does. i know we’re not supposed to care about that anymore but let’s be real, everyone does. when you see everyone around hooking up or having stories to tell, it messes with your brain. it’s not about sex itself but just feeling like you’re part of the world, like you belong. i go on campus and see couples all the time, holding hands, laughing, doing all that couple-y stuff and i wonder if i’ll ever get to do that. i try meeting girls, usually through class groups or during campus events. and at first they seem to like talking to me, we laugh, we text, and i ask them out. we grab coffee or go for a walk, and i think “okay, this is going alright,” but then i get the vibe shift. you know that weird pause between texts, that tone change, and you just know they’re gonna bail soon. and every time it happens, i tell myself maybe i was too nice or too boring or too something. but how do you even fix that if you don’t know what the problem is?;

it’s hard not to internalize it. like yeah, people say “don’t take it personal,” but how can you not? it’s always me getting rejected. logically, i know it's just not a match or whatever but emotionally, it still hits. i’ve even had girls say “you’re sweet but i don’t feel that spark” and that spark word feels like a knife. what even is that spark? am i just incapable of generating it? is it something i’m missing? maybe i’m too slow, or too respectful, maybe girls my age want someone more bold or mysterious or whatever. i don’t even know how to act differently without being fake. and even when i try to be chill about it, pretend i don’t care, it still messes with me later when i’m alone at night overthinking every tiny thing i said or did. i try to stay busy, hit the gym, study, keep social but man it’s exhausting pretending this stuff doesn’t affect me.

so yeah, how do you even deal with this kind of rejection?? how do you stop feeling like you’re constantly not enough? is it supposed to get better or is this just how it goes for some of us? i’m not trying to sound dramatic or anything, just genuinely wondering if anyone else has been through this. not looking for pity either. just tired of feeling stuck in this weird space where you keep trying and hoping, and it keeps leading nowhere. and the worst part is, it makes you start doubting your own worth even when deep down you know you’re a decent guy. just wish i could stop caring so much, but i do. guess that’s the part that sucks the most.

i’ve been thinkin about this a lot lately, like way more than i probly should, but i just can’t help it. i go to this school where so many kids are rich or like... pretty well off. not just talkin new clothes or fancy phones, i mean actual money. like they get picked up in shiny cars, talk about their summer trips to europe, have the newest gadgets before they even come out. nd then there’s me. my shoes are always a little worn out, i still got the same backpack since 7th grade, and when ppl talk about “weekend plans” mine are usually helpin my mom clean or babysit my cousin. my family’s not just “not rich,” we’re broke-broke. i don’t blame them or anything, they work hard, they love me, we just never had much. and while no one at school has ever been mean to me about it, not once, i still feel it. like this quiet voice in my head always whisperin “you don’t belong here.”

what sucks the most is that i do have friends. like, good ones. they include me in everything, they don’t care i don’t have name-brand stuff or can’t always go out when they do. they joke with me, they listen, they’re just... normal. and i try to act normal too. i laugh, i join in, i smile. but inside, i’m always thinkin about what i’m missing. i feel like i have to try harder just to be at the same level. if we’re doin a project, i work extra hard so they don’t think i’m dumb. if we’re hangin out, i make sure i’m funny or helpful or something, like i gotta earn my place all the time. and they never asked me to. they never made me feel like i’m “less than.” but that don’t change the fact that i still feel less than. i can’t stop comparing. even if i got the same grade or the same laugh, i still feel like i’m catching up to everyone else’s life.

i don’t even talk to anyone about it, not even my best friend. how do you even say, “hey, i feel small around you sometimes even tho you’re nice to me”? it’s not their fault i feel this way. it’s just... the way everything is. the way i grew up always worrying about bills or food or how to fix something ourselves because we can’t pay someone to do it. nd even when i’m at school, doing fine, gettin decent grades, i still feel like one wrong move and i’ll slip and they’ll all realize i’m not like them. it makes me scared to dream big sometimes. like, who am i to think i can be something? go to a big college? have a cool job? buy my mom a house? sounds fake when i say it out loud. it’s hard to believe in yourself when everything around you has always told you to settle. and even harder when you’re in a place full of people who already have what you’re fightin for.

so yeah, how to overcome inferiority complex? hell if i know. i’m still figurin it out. maybe it starts with stopping the comparisons, or reminding myself that money don’t make someone better than me. maybe i gotta start believing my friends actually like me for me, not what i have. i guess i gotta remind myself that i’m smart, i’m funny (sometimes lol), i’m kind, and those things matter too. but it’s not easy. some days it’s like carrying a weight i can’t drop. but i’m tryna be better. i’m tryna hold my head up even when my shoes are scuffed. maybe i don’t got all the stuff they got, but i got my own story. and maybe one day, i’ll look back at this and realize i was enough the whole time. just gotta keep goin. one step at a time.

Facebook is beyond belief. You can't say anything through it. I was just talking about those feelings that are contradictory to advocating for good ideals, and it itself put it up for review. Such an extremely valuable text, it itself put it up for review. It's a question that I found totally offensive.

How could they do that? I feel like with Facebook, you can't write anything, because in principle, no one knows why it puts things up for review. It doesn't mention anything about what I published; it just leaves you at the mercy of uncertainty. I used to vent on Facebook, but over time, I stopped doing that. Frankly, I don't want to post posts like the one I made in WhatsApp groups, after reflecting, because I find it disruptive, and I like to post a lot.

Putting up with Facebook cutting off a post without explanation is harassing. You expect it to remain a post, even more so when it's barely published and doesn't say anything about it being annoying or anything like that. It takes you by surprise. You want to publish in peace, but you don't know what mistakes you made to sustain that. Besides, in such posts, I express my creativity; I'm not attacking anyone or spreading hate speech or anything like that. They're simply creative posts, nothing more, even pleasant stories, for enjoyment, rich reading, and everything is in groups, where that's what they're for. The platform is pulling my hair out; I mean, I need a space to share what I want to publish calmly, and Facebook isn't providing it, even though it gives the false illusion that it is.

I don't know if Facebook or people are worse. What I publish often seems like an attack on prejudice, a search to break molds, to make people think within intimacies that are not socially undermined, and therefore people, at least those around me, feel incapable of being receptive, even though I've heard good comments about it. Facebook is the one I find most receptive, however, despite these surprises, I didn't find it pleasant. I continue to insist that it's the worst not knowing why your post, unexpectedly once again, is being sent for review, especially after someone put so much effort into such texts, because they wanted them to be pleasant, and also exposed to a general audience. I feel it's a way of harming my creativity, I have to say it this way, of making me feel insecure when it comes to publishing.

When I publish myself, I express myself, I vent, I can't go around with fears, or checking to see if my post was deleted or not. This anxiety is exhaustive, and also unfair. I revise my texts very thoroughly, and I also like that what I write is absolutely divine for the reader, and it helps me with my writing. When Facebook sends it for review, it's like feeling like my effort is completely set aside, that such divine art is spit out after having been arduously worked on. It's feeling like the platform treats what you've done in a completely dehumanizing way. Furthermore, in the groups, it appears that the administrator will review it, and they don't agree. This, well, since they and I are strangers, barely through online contact, only triggers problems; saying that Facebook played a trick sounds like an excuse.

Facebook, more than serving as a benefit for publishing and sharing content, is becoming a completely uncomfortable platform. I'd like to discover better platforms, but I also don't want to just go changing because I've already established my life there, virtually. Besides, this isn't happening because of others, but because of the platform itself. I also feel the helplessness of not being able to do anything about it, that the platform can send what I publish back for review in a completely arbitrary way, as I feel it has done with me up until now.

I've seen more than one person complaining about Facebook censorship. At the same time, I feel a sensitivity on the part of the platform that makes readings of the content extremely superficial. However, here I am considering the potential consequences of the platform's actions, but it's a futile effort. It never ceases to appear, naturally, because I am a human being. Before, I felt safe and secure on this platform, but all I feel like doing is moving to another platform, any one, just to avoid these surprises.

I'm 22, a guy. I've had 5 proper friendships in my life.

First and second one in school, after I moved states. They lasted around 10 years until I got into a relationship. They hated my boyfriend, so I got ghosted and blocked everywhere.

Third was a girl in the city i live in now, after I moved out from my parent's house. We got along until she got more and more toxic. She was 18 at the time, she acted like a spoiled 13 year old. Insulted, bullied and humiliated others. I quit that frie4ndship. She stalked me for 9 months.

Fourth was with an ex of mine, after a year of being apart we got to talk again. He's a nice guy. I adore him, in a very platonic way. He's been ghosting me for 2 months now for no reason.

Last one just broke apart today. A friend of 6 years told me about his struggles. I've been there for him for weeks now since he was feeling bad, but i ran out of tips and tricks. Ran out of solutions, so i simply suggested he'd go back to his therapist, that's what she's there for after all. He ignored me for the day and then started insulting me, calling me names, and much worse. I blocked him.

22 years. and not a single lasting friendship because all people turn out to hate me, ghost me or be toxic. I'm giving up on friendship.

My wife and I have been trying to conceive for over a year with no success. Our chances aren't great, so we're looking into costly alternatives.

As a scientist and engineer, I am naturally skeptical of unproven methods. I despise scams, especially in the realm of health, because they exploit vulnerable people. I trust conventional medicine and evidence-based practices, so we're sticking with those.

My wife, desperate to get pregnant, has friends urging her to try alternative medicine like acupuncture and herbal remedies. These options are expensive but still within our budget (though costs can escalate as they hook you in). There's no solid evidence that these methods work beyond the placebo effect. Some even seem like faith-based practices or outright scams.

I can't accept anything that lacks a scientific basis, something that can be proven or disproven. However, I also can't force my wife to think like a scientist. She believes that trying her friends' suggestions might make her feel more hopeful about our efforts.

I've advised her not to spend too much on these alternatives and explained that I think they're exploiting her desperation. She admits she's uncertain about them but feels they might offer hope. I told her that our very expensive fertility specialists provide us with plenty of hope. I said she can do what she wants and spend what she feels is right but asked her to be honest with me about it. I also mentioned I’d be disappointed if she fell victim to a scam.

Now, imagine if we were on a reality show, dealing with all this in front of cameras. How would viewers react to our different approaches to this sensitive issue? Would they sympathize with my rational stance or her emotional struggle?

I feel like today was a day of hell. Everything was so disorganized. I felt like I was skipping work since I only showed up two out of three days this week. I don't want to show up on other days, but I feel a very uncomfortable level of responsibility, especially when it comes to birthday celebrations and other things. I don't want to attend celebrations; I'm there to do a great job, not to integrate in such a friendly way. I like my solitude.

I feel like I regained my solitude today. I don't know, I felt like I was getting my life back after a long time. I don't like the country I live in; there are difficulties and so on, but I feel like everything is bearable. I had to manage the psychiatrist in detail; she was influenced by my father, as I thought. She took it seriously, thank goodness, that I didn't stop the treatment; I feel good because she's attentive and also, she admits, the effect of my routine on the healing of the issue. I feel very valued by the psychiatrist, but it's difficult for her; nevertheless, we're on the journey together. It's not the best I ever hoped for.

For some reason, I feel like I've returned to normal because I feel like I can tolerate the world as it is, imperfect from my perspective and like everyone else's. I feel like I can tolerate everything now, and I'm happy about it. I was also happy to see my stepmother and her father. I don't know, all in all, I had a normal day and I was able to tolerate it well; I didn't expect that. Maybe it's because I was also able to get away from the psychiatrist and her influence. Seeing that we were able to handle ourselves, I feel like everything is fine now. It was always my life's goal to be able to manage with a psychologist, or a psychiatrist. I felt welcomed back into the world, into society itself.

I have to confess, out of all this adventure I went through, I feel like I finally got what I wanted. To be able to deal with a therapist, to work as a team in some way, not just one person on one side and me on the other. That's why, I confess, my dental treatment didn't work, in any way, that was it. Since I left my therapist, I felt like the world had turned its back on me because there was no way out of my environment; that's how I understood it. Feeling like I've finally entered, entered the world, is simply fantastic, sensational. I feel like I can walk the streets again completely normally, tolerate the day, write many things, many ideas, but always with the feeling that my efforts in mental health, if they're welcomed by anyone, well, actually by everyone now, but mainly by those who consist of the mental health aspect. That support, that verification, makes me feel like I'm on the right track, or at least, seen by someone beyond myself, and I like that, I have to confess.

I have to confess it. I feel like that was the cure for my entire illness. Just that. I feel like I'm finally believed, taken seriously, that I see beyond, that I can handle the treatment. That I can finally handle treatment, that I'm taken into account within it, that I, as a patient, deserve respect for myself and my processes—I finally achieved that. I have to confess: The only cure was having someone check on me with my mental health, working as a team. That was it. I can't do that with anyone in my circle, because no one takes care of their mental health, that's the pure truth. So, it's feeling an immense burden.

I feel that the cure, moreover, was always returning to a mental health professional, but one that truly exists. That they don't abandon you, that they're not a scam, that they don't leave you stranded, that they don't act on behalf of others but on behalf of you, that there is a therapy given for me, given by another, that you can be supported by another. Not help, I didn't want help, support, support to keep me going. That was all I needed to get back to life, to go back to my life as before. That was it. Not someone coming and doing my job. The fact that I can't do it, that was the worst part. That's why dental treatment became pure hell for me. I understand everything now.

How difficult was this for those around me? A little support, so I could do my thing my way, without changing my routine unless it was for support. This, I insist, and I think it sums it all up, was the cure. A feeling that my life could be accepted by others based on my well-being and not theirs, and even so, it produces well-being for them, perhaps not giving them what they want, but by setting an example of being in context and not unconsciously destroying a world in unrecognizable ways. How difficult was it for everyone to see that? It was too simple. How hard was it to find a psychiatrist? Too hard. In the end, he was the only savior of everything because he was the only one around me who could do that. Does that make sense? That he's the only one? The problem with the psychiatrist is that everyone had the blessed humility to say they didn't know how to treat me. But was there any? Barely one and a half people, although my mental health was pushed aside during treatment. How difficult was it for others to see that? Honestly, the dental treatment was the least of my worries, from every point of view. Rightfully so, and I understand wholeheartedly, I ended up exploding at everyone.

Ironically, right now, the psychiatrist is the one putting the pieces together. She barely does six minutes of treatment, and she does so much more than the others. In addition to one person, whose example lifts heaven and earth and changes my life. From the smallest details, I categorically say, these people saved my life. In the dental service too, listening to me for a while, playing for a while, caring for me, being present, making the effort. That also did something very meaningful for me, and I'm not going to just give up. I can't do it. Also, damn, another doctor who supported me with the psychological aspect took it seriously, and in a way that I didn't get carried away with illusions. That one also deserves my award. These people, who did something, because those who operated didn't do a thing, except move some teeth with sophisticated and useless methods because they didn't attack anything, I can't let them be left aside in any way.

After I had finished making dinner, I left some dirty dishes in the sink to wash them after I was done eating dinner. While I was having dinner, one of my roomate's girlfriend entered the kitchen saw the dishes and washed them herself. When I saw the clean dishes, I felt kinda embarressed because I felt like she was lowkey forced to wash the dishes because I had left them there, making me look like a dirty lazy pig.

In order to show her my gratitude, I wanted to give my roomate (who had shared with me some snacks a few times) and her some grapes, becaue that was honestly the best I could give them. She was showering while I was preparing the grapes and putting them in the cutest cups I could find, and, when she came out the bathroom, I stopped her in the middle of the hallway. The problem is that she was not wearing her PJs like I thougt she would. Instead, she had a towel wrapped around her. So, the situation turned a bit awkward and, as a stupid being I am, I just stood there awkwardly and offered her the grapes. She told me (as politely as she could) that she didn't want them, but maybe her boyfriend did and then she started walking to their bedroom. I thought that she was going to ask her boyfriend if he wanted the grapes, so I followed her to the room, but she just closed the door once she reached there, making me look like a creep that had just followed her to the room while she was practically naked :)

Even though it was something really random and stupid, it made me feel very bad, but as the self-gaslighter I am, I told myslef to pretend that nothing happened. So, I just went back to the kitchen and kept the grapes, and then I went to the bathroom to wash my teeth. As I was washing my teeth, I heard their door opening, and after a few seconds of giving myself a pep talk I exited the bathroom because I thought that my roomate actually wanted the grapes like his girlfriend had told me, but there was no one there, leaving me quite confused. I also had to pee, so I entered the bathroom again. When I was done, another roomate told me that the other guy wanted to enter the bathroom, but since I was inside he turned around, but then I opened the door (cause I thought he wanted grapes), making him think I was done, so he directed himself to the bathroom again. However, I entered the bathroom again (cause I had to pee), pissing him off.

So, basically I had embarrassed twice in less than five minutes, when the only thing I wanted was to give those people grapes!!!! After thinking for a while, I think I'll be avoiding them for a while for my own sake lol.

I recently purchased a semi-detached home and it's turning out to be a massive project. Everything needs an overhaul, right down to the framework.

My neighbors keep to themselves; there’s a father and a daughter who has special needs, and there are mumblings of a son and a mother, though I've never laid eyes on her.

We've just begun remodeling the bathroom, which unfortunately adjoins the daughter's bedroom.

This bathroom is a disaster - we have to demolish and replace everything, including the plumbing and light fixtures. It’s a huge job.

We began demolition four days ago, and immediately, the noise triggered the daughter’s loud, piercing screams. Despite the clamor of our equipment and our own ear protection, her distress was unmistakable.

The next day, her father came over, rather upset, explaining that his daughter is autistic and particularly sensitive to disturbances. He mentioned that our drilling had shaken loose some of her possessions, causing breakage. I apologized, and he walked away somewhat relieved.

However, that evening he returned, furious after work, and berated me and my brother Jake, who’s helping me out with the renovations. He shouted about our lack of consideration and stormed off.

Yesterday, he appeared again, visibly angry, accusing us of being ruthless for continuing the work despite his daughter’s evident turmoil. I saw his daughter looking quite shaken, which made me feel sorry, but I explained we needed to press on with the work.

Today, he demanded we halt our noisy work as his daughter was struggling to recover from her ongoing distress. He looked completely worn out.

I apologized once more but told him that it's his responsibility as a father to manage his daughter’s reactions, and that our renovation schedule couldn't accommodate their situation indefinitely.

He left angrily, and since then, my pregnant wife has been ignoring me, labeling me insensitive and harsh. She insists that if it were our child, we’d expect understanding from others.

I acknowledge the father’s frustration, but my brother and I need to finish this job promptly, and it's just not feasible to stop now.

My wife is still upset, and I’m now sleeping on the sofa. The neighbors are clearly unhappy with us too.

Suppose I was on a reality TV show with cameras capturing these confrontations and my family's reactions. Audiences would probably be split. Some might sympathize with the need to progress work on the house, while others could view me as the villain for not being more accommodating towards a child with special needs.

Am I the bad guy here?

I'm wondering, if you were to put this situation to a public vote, what would people say?

I'm not a particularly religious person, and usually, I respect everyone's beliefs as long as they don't impose them aggressively on others.

I'm employed as a delivery driver at a local pizzeria. Typically, I cover the morning shift alone since it’s not usually very hectic.

Today, out of the blue, a call came from a woman requesting a large order to be delivered to the nearby hospital. It took quite a while to prepare because of the size of the order. Meanwhile, another order was placed online, destined for a church, which happened to be in the complete opposite direction of the hospital. My boss had to inform the woman at the church that her delivery would be significantly delayed due to the circumstances.

Once the hospital delivery was done, I headed back to the shop to pick up the church order. I heard that the lady from the church had been furiously calling the shop, complaining about the delay. She did not seem pleased when I finally arrived with her order. Her first words were, "I don't care who's to blame, but this is forty-five minutes late. This should never happen, I've got hungry kids waiting."

I chose to remain silent.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" she prodded.

"Just trying to ensure you have a good day, ma’am," I replied coolly.

She scoffed, turned away, and as I muttered under my breath, "That’s very Christ-like of you."

Returning to the shop, predictably she had already called to complain about my 'mocking' her faith. My manager isn't my biggest fan, so she took the opportunity to lecture me about customer service, demanding I always apologize and smile, regardless of the situation.

I questioned whether it was justifiable to apologize and smile after being verbally abused, and she nearly terminated my employment on the spot.

Since I was already doing overtime this week, I decided to wait till the end of my shift today before quitting.

Does that make me a bad person?

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show. How intense would the reaction be on social media or among the show's viewers? The dramatic interaction could potentially become a pivotal moment, underscored by debates on professionalism, religious tolerance, and personal limits in service-oriented roles.

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'm not trying to complain but I'm having to use this app on my tablet bc it's saying it's not compatible with Samsung galaxy a13 anyone send me some advice

My husband and I have a sweet 7-year-old girl, Emily, who recently made friends with a pup she found wandering in our front yard. It was all fun and games until we discovered the little dog belonged to our neighbors. They initially thought Emily had taken the puppy away from their property, which caused a lot of upset. Subsequently, my husband imposed additional chores on her as punishment. Emily stood her ground, asserting that she hadn't stolen the puppy and refused to do the chores.

The situation took a turn for the better when our neighbors came over to apologize. It turns out, their own son had accidentally let the puppy escape while they were out for a walk because he removed its leash. That's how the puppy ended up in our yard.

When I got back from work that day, my husband briefed me on the apologies, but still insisted Emily should be reprimanded for not completing her chores. His view was that it was a matter of principle and she should obey her father regardless. I couldn't disagree more. To me, punishing her for an act she hadn't committed was completely unfair. I argued that teaching her to accept wrongdoing silently was not something I supported.

The disagreement escalated as my husband labeled me unreasonable. I was left wondering if my stance was indeed wrong.

If this confrontation were to unfold under the public gaze of a reality TV show, I can only imagine the heightened drama and varied opinions from viewers. Social media would likely be ablaze with debates on parenting styles and the fairness of imposing discipline. Would the audience side with fostering obedience or upholding justice? The dynamic would certainly be enticing to viewers who thrive on real-life conflicts and resolutions.

How would people react in a reality TV scenario?

It starts in the morning, even before I’m fully awake. That subtle tightness in my chest, like a hand hovering just over my heart, not squeezing it yet but letting me know it’s there. The air feels a bit too heavy, my thoughts slightly too loud. I open my eyes and immediately scan the room, not for threats, but as if I’m checking whether the world still exists the way I left it the night before. I convince myself it does, but something still doesn’t sit right. This isn’t a panic attack—those I know well. This is something else, quieter but more persistent. A low hum in the background of everything I do. Some mornings it fades by lunch. Others, it sticks, lurking in the corners of my brain like a storm that never breaks. I go to work, interact with people, smile politely, laugh even. But internally, I brace. For what? I have no clue. That’s what makes it worse. It’s like my body knows a secret my mind can’t access.

I don’t catastrophize events; I’m not the kind of person who assumes the worst. I’m grounded in logic, in fact, in reason. But still, this eerie anticipation of disaster follows me around like a shadow. I’ll be walking down the street, enjoying the breeze, and suddenly be gripped with the sense that someone I love is about to die. Or that something irreversible will happen. Not in a dramatic, cinematic way—but more like I’m emotionally prepped for a call that says, “It’s too late now.” And I hate how familiar that feels. The worst part is, I don’t have any evidence for this constant dread. Nothing’s happened. Nothing is happening. My life, objectively speaking, is stable. I have a job, I pay my bills, I eat my vegetables. But somehow, I’m never really relaxed. Even in moments of supposed peace, I’m scanning for signs. Is that a weird sound from the fridge or is it going to catch fire? Did my sister sound off on the phone or is she hiding something serious? And this isn’t about control or anxiety management. It’s just this cold, nauseating certainty that something is coming, something I can't see.

People say to focus on what you can control, right? Do the deep breathing, get enough sleep, maybe even journal it out. But I’ve tried. And I do these things not because I expect them to fix me, but because I want to believe I’m not passively waiting for doom to arrive. The dread still seeps in though, like fog under a door. I don’t think this feeling makes me broken, but it does make me tired. Chronically. It’s exhausting to live like a warning siren that never gets turned off. Friends tell me I need a vacation. Maybe I do. But how do you rest when your gut keeps telling you the world’s about to tilt on its axis? I don’t want to be one of those people who walks around acting like they’re psychic, like they just “feel” things—but I can’t ignore the part of me that believes there’s truth in this fear. A truth I don’t want to discover too late.

Am I the only one who lives with this kind of mental static? That quiet, persistent buzz of existential alarm? Maybe someone out there can relate to what I’m saying. Or maybe I’m just oversensitive, overaware, overwired. But what if I’m not? What if this strange intuition is actually a warning I’m supposed to heed? I don’t even know what I would do differently if I knew for sure something bad was about to happen; I already walk on eggshells with everything I love. This isn’t a cry for help or attention—it’s more like logging an observation, like documenting a pattern that no one else can see. And I just wish I could explain it in a way that makes sense. Because as much as I sound composed now, there are moments when the weight of this feeling is too much to carry without breaking into pieces.

Why does my girl best friend always constantly stay with her boyfriend even when he always lies to her and doesn’t spend much time with her( just for context both of them are my best friends I had been best friends with my boy best friend before they got together)

So let’s just call my girl best friend Amy and my boy best friend Ethan

So Amy always complains to me that Ethan is always hiding his phone and she eventually gets to the bottom of it where he has got pictures of girls on his phone and he is lying about having them, she has “broken up” with him too many times and I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t know what to tell her anymore coz I say to her it’s up to you what you do it’s not my relationship, she still goes back to him and forgives him but how many times is she going to repeat the same things all the time and she gets mad, upset and even blocks him and then unblocks him and then is all perfectly normal with him the next day , he always gets annoyed at me or take it out on me if he is frustrated about something but never his own girlfriend like I’m his best friend not a verbal punch bag, she never confronts him about it because she will get upset about how he will react, she doesn’t confront about him about certain things coz he always reacts the same he gets in a mood with her, he says I’m not doing this, I’m not listening to what you are saying because you are constantly going on,a woman has the right to say what she is feeling and if it is bothering her then she should be able to talk about it without someone getting annoyed about it or doesn’t want to listen because men know they are in the wrong they just don’t care, so what do I do about this guys

My friend Hannah recently moved into her own place, becoming the first among us to do so. Naturally, she was eager to turn her new space into our regular hangout spot. To kick things off, Hannah organized a chilled get-together last Friday, inviting just our closest friends and a few of her relatives.

The night was a blast, but as it often happens, a few of us—including myself—had a bit too much to drink. At some point during the evening, I ended up spilling my red wine on one of Hannah’s decorative pillows. Despite my best efforts to clean it, the stain wouldn't come out. Feeling guilty, I offered to replace the pillow. Hannah directed me to the online store where she’d bought it, only for me to discover it cost a whopping SEVENTY DOLLARS. I agreed to replace it but mentioned I might need to wait until my next paycheck since the cost was a bit steep for me.

The following day, I joined some friends on a thrift shopping spree for Halloween outfits. Even though I already had my costume ready, I went along for the fun of it. It seemed fate was on my side when I stumbled upon the exact same pillow Hannah owned, complete with the original store tag, but for only twelve dollars at the thrift shop! Thrilled at the find, I bought it immediately, thinking this could resolve the pillow issue faster than anticipated.

Later that day, we swung by Hannah’s to show off our Halloween finds. I gave her the pillow, expecting her to be excited. Initially, she was thrilled, but her mood shifted when she inquired how I could afford it so suddenly. I explained the lucky thrift store find, but instead of being pleased, Hannah tossed the pillow at me in disgust. Despite our habit of thrifting, she confessed she never buys soft furnishings from thrift stores for hygiene reasons. I offered to wash it thoroughly, but she refused and insisted I purchase a new one from the original expensive store. I pushed back, arguing that washing the thrifted pillow was the best compromise, but Hannah wouldn’t budge, stressing that the original mishap was my fault and accusing me of being too careless.

Things escalated quickly, with Hannah calling me out for not taking responsibility, and in the heat of the moment, I criticized her for making such a big deal over a minor accident. I left soon after, feeling the tension rise. Now, our friends are divided over the issue. One of them even mentioned a new group chat named “The Pillow Crisis of 2024” where everyone is debating who's right in this conflict.

I did end up washing the pillow and handed it to a mutual friend to pass back to Hannah, but I heard she refused to use it and it’s now relegated to a corner as a floor cushion. This whole ordeal leaves me questioning if I was really at fault.

Imagine if this entire debacle unfolded on a reality TV show. The cameras capturing every eye-roll and the dramatic toss of the pillow. Viewers would likely be glued to their screens, picking sides, and firing up social media with comments and memes. In the dramatic world of reality TV, such a trivial dispute could become a sensational episode, sparking reactions from laughter to disbelief over the magnitude of the fallout over a single pillow.