Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

i married my husband almost 2 years ago but things just got worse and worse with time and he became pretty controlling so I've been working on becoming more financially independent since due to a very complicated situation I ended up depending on him. In the meantime, I have developed strong feelings for a coworker and the other day he asked me out, since I'm married and my husband works at the same place ( which coworker knows) I chicken out and said no because I was scared of other people that know my husband will hear us. I asked for his number so I would be able to text him in private and he gave me his number and said he was exited to text with me, next day when I texted him he was very dry and ended up leaving me on seen and I feel so devastated cause I really liked him.

I am 52, a woman, and I have been married for 25 years. Saying that out loud still feels heavy. We met young, built a life, raised kids, paid mortgages, argued about paint colors. Lately it feels like we are roommates with shared history. I remember once, early on, he brought me coffee every morning without fail. Now we text from different rooms. That sounds dramatic but it is true. I am polite to him, he is polite to me. There is no yelling. There is also no warmth. People say “marriage takes work” and i believed that. I still do. But what if the work changes you into someone quiet and tired. I wonder if this is normal or if we missed a turn years ago and never noticed.

We have issues, lots of them, but none that feel explosive. We disagree on money, intimacy, and how to talk when we are hurt. He shuts down. I talk too much. He says I nag. I say he disappears. Once, after a long silence, he told me “I just don’t know what you want from me anymore.” That stuck. I don’t fully know either. After 25 years you expect some shared language. Instead we misinterpret everything. I once suggested couples counselling and he shrugged and said “if you think it helps.” That was not a no, but it wasn’t a yes. Friends quote stats like “therapy works if both try,” or “most couples wait too long.” Are we too late already.

I keep thinking about a small moment last year. We were at a grocery store, choosing apples. He reached for the ones i like without thinking. It surprised me. For a second, it felt easy again. Then we argued in the car about nothing important. That is how it goes. Good moments get buried fast. I have my own faults, i know that. I can be sharp. I hold grudges. I replay old arguments when I should let them go. Part of me worries counselling will just list our failures in a calm office with tissues on the table. Another part hopes a third voice could help translate us. As one book said, “under every complaint is a longing.” I am not sure what his longing is anymore, or mine 🤷‍♀️

Divorce feels like a word that floats in the room even when we don’t say it. It feels final and also tempting, which scares me. I think about starting over at 52, and I feel tired before I even begin. But I also think about staying and slowly shrinking. Is couples counselling a real option after so long, or just a pause before the end. I am trying to be fair to both of us. He is not a bad man. I am not a perfect wife. We are just worn. If you have been here, did talking to someone help you reconnect, or did it only confirm what you already knew. How do you tell the difference between a rough chapter and the last page.

Honestly I’m in a bad mental state. I’ll admit it. I’m splitting while writing this.

It’s been years, years of smoking, weed, and arguments. And I’m so fucking sick of it. Sick of the way my nose burns, chest tightens, and my fists clenching. And before you question, “is this you smoking?” No, it’s my parents.

I’ve told them for YEARS I hate that they smoke, and I told them to not do it around me or I’ll yell at them. I think it’s pretty fucking clear I hate it??? I’ve told them to their face, but they fucking LAUGH. It all stems to when I was 6 ish, caught them in the bathroom smoking weed from a bong, breathing it out into the vents.

{present day, I’m 13.} I walk into the house after being gone for 4 hours, walking and playing with these dogs right? I open the door and walk up one step. It smells like FUCKING WEED. Smoke all around the fucking house. I’m already livid, I’ve told you 73 times. Isn’t that enough..!? And yes I’ve kept count because I’m petty as fuck. So i immediately say “I’m not doing this.. I’m just gonna go back.” And then my dad stops me like “I didn’t know you were coming back.” OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T!! EVEN THOUGH I TOLD YOU RIGHT BEFORE I LEFT??? DOES IT JUST GO THROUGH YOUR LEFT EAR AND PUT YOUR RIGHT? Anyway. So yeah. I was mad. I had the right to? So I stormed to my room as I’m so sick and tired of this addiction they have. Are they trying to make me like my sister? Make me addicted at 13 like her?

Before you feel sympathy for my dad, look at my other stories before commenting. Anyway cut my mom some slack.

Ok so I’m 15 and my grandmother makes me take a bunch of alternative medicines and vitamins and mainly stuff with ashwagandha in it and since she’s been making me take these things with ashwagandha I’ve had absolutely horrible emotional numbness so much to the point were my childhood cat passed away and the very next day we got another cat I only felt a very small amount of sadness and it was very confusing I thought I was a bad person for not feeling incredibly sad and I just it is so bad I genuinely don’t feel sad or happy or just anything now and I’ve been having very frequent headaches and it sucks but literally just tonight when I saw that my stuff to help me sleep has ashwagandha in it I decided to look it up and wow for the first time in a long time I don’t feel like I’m insane I feel like I’ve lost a couple years of my life but tomorrow I’m going to show my grandma the research I’ve done and tell her I won’t be taking anything with ashwagandha in it anymore. Wish me luck .

I tried looking it up online... But I still don't get it🫠. And there are different meanings or definitions📖. So, I'm hoping real humans can inform me about what the abbreviation... MIL... Means🙇🏻‍♀️✨. This was one of the categories to write on iiwiars.

Hey me.

I see you sitting there, blasting Glass Half Empty on loop through your earbuds in the middle of class. I'm doing the same thing, too. Those lyrics are so relatable, aren't they? Anyway. I know Bowie, Trinity, and Harvie are still ignoring you. I know that Johne and Amelia still forget you're there sometimes. I know that Angel is your only friend left that sees and hears you. But hey, things'll get better. I think. You know, let's just reflect on the past four years before we get to high school. How's that sound? and when we're seniors, we'll reflect on our high school years too. Here we go:

Remember 5th grade? when you and Trinity first met? When you dated Livvie? Remember her? I forgot what school she goes to now... Oh well. But remember recess, playing with all of Trinity's little plastic animals? Remember there Kermits? You never did really become part of that... But that's besides the point. 5th grade was fun! I miss it. I bet you do too.

6th grade was when you met Amelia, Harvie, and Maddie. I still remember the exact places we sat at lunch. The third round table, and you always say next to Amelia. And you would give her your cheeseburger (which you got everyday) even though she had a lunchbox. Those were the good days... Ah well. They're gone now. But those days were easy, you never had to worry about whether or not your existence would be remembered the next day. EVeryone was interested in the same things, and we were all one friendgroup, and there was no stress about who liked who. That is, until you started liking Amelia. But you never asked her out, did you? I don't blame you. Stuff like that is really stressful.

And 7th grade! That was when you met Bowie, Angel, and Johne. Remember how you and Bowie started out? kinda awkward, I remember. Emma had been saying for a while that you and Bowie would be best friends. And you became best friends, didn't you! You two had such fun together. Then Trinity and Amelia started dating. Then you and Maddie started dating. Then you broke up with Maddie. And then you and Bowie started dating. 7th grade was ok.

But 8th grade... That's when everything fell apart. You broke up with Bowie, yet you two still stayed best friends. Nothing changed between you two, except maybe that you'd make jokes about when you two dated, things like, "why did I ever date you" whenever one of you did something dumb. But then... people started drifting. The friendgroup split in half. One half even moved tables at lunch. That was your half. And the other half stopped speaking to you and you only. Even Bowie, who was on that half. And then you started turning invisible with your own half. Even on your birthday. At least you still had Angel. But some days, you were invisible to even her. Depression got the best of you, didn't it? It still has me in its holds.

But listen to me now: you can't let yourself disappear. Get new friends. Ones who see you and hear you. Don't let the old ones turn you invisible. They don't define you. Even if things seem hopeless now, you'll get through this. You have to. And if you don't, then at least you tried, right? so try. Don't let go just yet. Don't give up until you can't go any further. It may seem like you can't now, but you can. Trust me. The apathy and depression may be bad, but you'll survive it all. Maybe. Possibly. You've almost made it to high school. Just keep pushing, and you'll get there. I get it, you want to just fizzle out, to just give up. But you can't. Keep going. Do it for Angel. For Sam, too, even though you can't talk to him anymore. But he'd want you to keep going. So keep going.

See you soon,

You.

Im 8 months pregnant and since then I have always been feeling like my husband is cheating on me. I wanted to talk to him about it but why then it feels like it wont change anything? I wanted to confront him but then whenever it crosses my mind it feels like I will just be wasting my time bec. I cant ask him to be faithful and loyal if in the first place he is really not that kind of person? He may be married to me but it feels like it is not me to whom he will be contented...

So I'm at school right now and this week is my last full week of not only 8th grade or middle school but also my last full week at the school I've been at my whole life (past information: I moved to my state I'm in when I was 6 and been here more than most my life) Note: My school is Elementary and middle school (kindergarten-4th, 5th-8th) It's weird that I'm about to be at the end of a chapter in my life. am I even ready for this? I'm also scared to go into high-school cuz I'm worried I have to start fresh and make new friends which I struggled with when I first moved here. I don't want to lose the friends I've gained. but I'm excited because the people in the area are really nice and I love the high school. its like..I'm finally starting my life. for real this time......win or lose.

I feel like I don't like this new family I have. The term "family" and not being a family but rather a group of strangers, disconnected, are the same thing. It can't be that the term "family" meant the union of individuals where each one is in their own world and barely concerned about the other. It can't be that that was family for me. It can't be.

I came to consider family a group of individuals who had a vaguely close connection with me and with each other, practically only organizationally and moderately. I feel like I called them family, and I find it shameful. If I had told them we were family, they would surely have called me insane or something like that or demanded that I report this to a psychiatrist in some way. It can't be.

What I considered "family" was the height of remoteness from what we could consider a union of loved ones. In what was my biological family, we established our family through violence; that was the denial of our distance. We were all complete strangers to each other. What the hell were we doing living among strangers? No wonder we knew how to navigate the streets so easily, because after all, we didn't differentiate between the street and our homes. The streets seemed simpler, and that's why we were somewhat more adept at socializing there. However, there was always a strange quality about us.

It can't be that my family was a gathering of complete strangers where there was no love, sex only served to speed things up. I mean, what kind of family do I come from, for God's sake? Anyone who knows me with this story runs away because of the consequences it might have on me—something that apparently surprises one of the doctors who examined me because I didn't react the same way. I feel like it can't be that I came from an environment where there was no affection, no evidence of organization, but quite the opposite, and that everything that contradicted us as a family was precisely what we considered family. But what kind of world did we live in, for God's sake?

Did no one notice the friction we had with everyone else? Why were we always ostracized? Did no one question why people treated us the way they did? What kind of world did we live in? We were completely isolated from others, at the mercy of our prejudices, with no one daring to go beyond them, except me. In fact, my psychotherapist saw me as the only opportunity to break out. No one questioned why people acted the way they did toward us, what it was about us that made that happen, why we treated other people the way we did, if it even existed. The theory that we had come to Earth to suffer seemed ridiculous to me and was implicit in the family narrative.

I insist: What kind of thing did we have at home, for God's sake? We had nothing healthy. We couldn't go outside. Prejudices blinded us at all costs. We lived to survive in society at the expense of irrational fears. Our anxieties isolated us, and we believed them to be true. In fact, no one noticed that even among ourselves, we acted out exaggerated dramas. It can't be that we can only be among ourselves and that the people who touch us are violent, humiliating people—in other words, family members of the same ilk as us, where emotion blinds, and there's no balance at all with reason.

How hard was it for me to see this reality? I realized this was happening five years ago, and precisely because I saw a pattern among the girls I was looking for that was repeated, and people said it was a matter of letting it go. Everyone told me I was exaggerating; however, I had managed to be precise; I had found the point that would help me escape such situations. How many of my family members are still trapped in a strange, out-of-this-world world? For God's sake, I prefer to be with lucid people, given that these blind, blind people purposefully run over others. I was simply overrun with them. And the worst part is that this gang of beings lived off wanting me to be like them at all costs. That was their philosophy, because that way I would be safe, better, under their support, as if they were the perpetual caretakers. These beings are very adept at taking advantage of others' prejudices and social profiles. However, I always knew there was a way to bring them down, as I did.

How far would I go with these beings, for God's sake, if I didn't realize things? What kind of partner would I get to put a stop to this? What escalations of violence would I go to? And my parents despised psychoanalysis, psychology, and all that. It's something that fills me, it angers me, because they wanted to serve as an obstacle to me going out into the world and seeing them from there. Even my mother, quite bluntly, expressed this to me. They tried to hide this truth from me for their own innocence Conscience, and that's something that bothers me a lot.

How much did I suffer being part of this? When did I suffer living within this family's standards? It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. Furthermore, outsiders took advantage of the weakness they had implicated me in thanks to my rebelliousness as a child, which always persisted given that it made my father realize several things, made me have values, a series of things that he later betrayed. But thanks to him betraying his spirit under the influence of my mother, I didn't want to end up like him. That's why I am where I am today; something I know thanks to this writing.

How many times did they not want to stop me from writing? Stop me from researching? Even my psychologist served as an obstacle. Why did my own psychologist serve as an obstacle? The same people, my friends, everyone. I discovered that they were all made up of dysfunctional families, and no one had even realized this. I was alone in such a situation. In such an endeavor. Who supported me? Not even the girl I identified with at the time wanted to support me. It was all about staying with the family when I was going in the opposite direction. It was pesos, after pesos, after pesos. Even at my workplace, they tried to exploit that story, even at a university, but frankly, I made them pay by making them see the reflection of their actions before the law, which was quick to issue its immediate protection. I don't understand how there can be people who believe I'm going to treat them as family or something like that, something I didn't do internally, with my real family members, when I'm not going to do it. In fact, given the simple fact of abusing it, it already implies acting with restraint but without harming, given that it would be an extra effort that will be costly for my family member.

This society almost buried me with my family! Almost! And my family and my surroundings support me! But I didn't allow it. For some time now, I've been looking for tools to support myself by any means necessary. I wasn't going to allow myself to go under the sad fate that awaited me, where I even saw my own death. I deserved to live, I deserved to live what I loved, not at the expense of weight, of a darkness imposed on me by my family, under a clear deception that was the murderer in my life. I deserved a better life. That's why I fought so hard.

For God's sake, how much abuse did I endure because of my family's imposed interests? How much rudeness? How much mistreatment for not being well-educated, and which people responded with simply hidden and undisputed retaliation? How many moments of horrific loneliness? How many times did I need someone to be with me? How many games did my mind not play to survive? How many mechanisms did my psyche not use to move forward? How much writing? How much speaking into a microphone? How many walks? How many strange exercises? How many eccentric creative endeavors? How many betrayals? How many disappointments? I just wanted to stop once and for all. I wanted this journey to finally end. Besides, nothing's worse than getting used to being with your family and then being without them and still having all that weight on your shoulders.

I feel I can't just leave my father like this. He's my doctor, and he doesn't deserve what he's going through, what I'm doing to him, leaving him, being at the mercy of such a huge mess because of me, and having to tolerate it. It's incredible how others want to take my parents' place at all costs. In fact, they don't know how to maintain it either, resorting to confusion worthy of the most serious and justified accusations.

In fact, I feel I can't allow my father to cease being my doctor because neither he nor anyone else has seen what caused my somatization. In fact, no one has been able to pinpoint the cause except for the therapist, who has been the most qualified professional. He, along with the other doctors, have applied desperate measures to resolve the situation, completely ignoring the psychological aspect. This has resulted in a sad, unsettled fishing ground, where everyone has tried to gain ground. In fact, I fear the doctors fueled this, and so did my father, an attitude that is immature from every point of view on both sides.

I don't feel either of them acted well. In fact, I'm open about going with one of them; I would definitely go with my father. If I go with another, the issue would be more complex, in principle, because there isn't the same structured trust that has existed for many years. On top of that, another person won't be willing to listen and sacrifice as my father does. In fact, the ground where everyone has their own life is at the mercy of being exposed. Indeed, the other professionals' fight for me is touching, but if I stay with them, it's detrimental to me in the long run.

The attempt to seize power by any means is impressive, even in the field of medicine. These professionals, including my father, should be ashamed. My body can't be a seizure of power, nor should any patient's. Truly, it's disappointing. Frankly, I don't want to speak to any of these professionals again. They don't measure the impact of their actions. In fact, they should have been even more cautious than my father if they wanted to win me over. I find them all worthy of distrust.

With my father, at least there are some comforts already established, even though the bond is the same as I would have with these professionals. That's why I see myself with this one. But, if I'm honest, I wish I wasn't with either of them because neither of them is committed to being in complete harmony with me. It makes me wonder: When will a mature person come into my life? In this case, I can't take care of myself as a doctor; in fact, I don't even like that question. That's why I say there must be someone who can at least adequately assist me in this. I don't know if I'm asking for some kind of guardian angel or something like that.

Why the hell should I depend on a third party? Why me? Why can't I depend on myself? Frankly, I don't understand. I wish things were different. I wish it all depended on emotions, but that would be like living in a daze and closing the door to that person if they came along. Why can't I trust any professional to help me?

In fact, I have to confess, I feel like the psychiatrist isn't helping me. She's not doing anything. I feel like therapy is just serving as a show for the professional. I hate that I'm serving that purpose. I would like a serious professional to treat me. When will that professional arrive, for God's sake? With which professional will I ever feel truly safe?

With which professional will I ever feel truly welcomed? With which professional will I feel they are leading me in the right direction? I feel in some way that I'm searching for my father in some professional, for someone outside who resembles him, given that I no longer seek him. However, that doesn't mean I've stopped searching for his personality in another person, just as it happens with my mother, and I hadn't realized it.

I have to say it: Where will I find the model of father I want? Where will I find the model of mother I'm looking for? Does it exist? Could it be that I'm there somewhere? I have to say it: Where will I find a substitute family model for mine? Whatever it is I want? Where will I be able to live in that family I so wanted? It was always my dream to live those years that I couldn't live and that I feel I deserve to live, that I feel that life owes me no matter what, because I feel that under no circumstances was it fair to have had a family so uprooted to the point of questioning whether there really was a family and not some kind of apartment with people who were living there by pure coincidence and by the grace of fate, which is how I felt at home, with no chance for anyone to leave.

Where is that house I love so much? Where is that home I long for so much? Where will there be that place where I feel I can live my childhood again? With whom will this be possible? With whom? Who will be able to make me fulfill that dream? Will the answer exist? Will it be worth it? Is it something I could regret? Damn.

I'm tired of searching outside for that childhood I couldn't experience with others around me. Although I confess, I feel I've achieved it, and that's precisely what my submission to my father was, the debt he considered he owed me, and I can understand why he pays it today, precisely for bringing me life and for having me live all these things when the conditions weren't favorable under any circumstances because, in the beginning, there wasn't anyone stable enough to help him with his, and that was exactly what he needed. I understand the financial support, the unchecked freedom, and the heightened restraint of my feelings; These were precisely the three missing elements he always wanted to give me, but for fear of the consequences of his environment, he never succeeded. These were devastating consequences that attacked him as the family's financial supporter. These extremes weren't something he should take into account.

I have to say it. After this text, I feel like I now understand my life as it is.

I'm about to choke. It's 4:20 am right now. I'm doing homework for tomorrow and some assigments i had to turn in ages ago. I'm trying to take my mind off things because i swear i'm so close to throwing up. I'm too scared to sleep. I'm so scared of what tomorrow will be like. There are so many tests coming up all at once, and my grades are only getting worse. I'm ruining everything i've worked for and now i feel like a failure. Two years ago i was actually doing well. i though things were getting better, that i was making progress but i ruined everything. I'm trying to be better. More productive, more polite, more present, more responsible, smarter, nicer, Better. But i can't. I keep on failing. I keep on messing up. And i'm so tired. I'm always so tired recently. It's so hard to do anything. Even things i used to love doing now feel like a chore. I'm stuck. I feel like a i'm falling behind while everyone else Is moving foward and i don't know what to do.

“So you think being a lesbian is worse than being a rapist?“ was not something I wanted to hear in the first 10 minutes of class.

But I keep my head up, and laugh when something funny happens because what else can I do?

I can act like it doesn’t matter.

Who are you to me anyway?

But no one says anything

and the words keep coming like waves crashing onto the shore

“Who even cares about the LGBT community anyway?“

“Why are you so gay?“

“just put the boy or girl on the website, the other ones are too complicated“

Petty jokes that flaunt your obvious queerphobia like a trophy.

And I know the teachers are trying their best

But I’m so tired of them changing the subject

“Just let it go!“

“I’m okay with it, but sheesh.“

You get a slap on the wrist so they don’t have to actually deal with the problem

Everytime it gets okay enough for me to feel good for once

I get hit with something like “Homosexuality is a sin!“ or “isn’t it some sort of disease?“

which is so easy for someone straight like you to say

Who’s questioned skipping class because you can’t handle another trumpie telling you how to exist

Who’s never questioned who the right person to tell about your crush is because you don’t know how they’ll react

Who’s never had someone get up and run away from you after you told them about your sexuality

Who’s never had a friend say “I don’t talk to lesbians because I’m worried they’ll like me!“ behind your back.

No one’s blackmailed you for being straight.

No one’s said you’ve betrayed the opposite sex.

You’ve never spent a birthday party sitting next to some girl trying to convince you you’re too pretty for this “lifestyle.“

You’ve never sat there and taken all the comments and rude gestures while you talk to a person of the opposite sex because you’re too scared to tell them the truth.

You’re not sick.

You’re not a sinner.

And you don’t have to deal with the consequences of your actions

Because you have queer friends!

You get a free pass!

You were just kidding!

And everyone believes you.

What do they care?

It’s not about them anyway

I’ve spent too much time pretending not to hear you

or that you meant something else

I’m not asking for much

But you don’t need to look at at through the lense of your religion

You don’t need to look at us through the lense of being less

You just need to look at us the same way that you look at people

Your fellow humans

All I ask is too be humanized

Is that too much?

About 2 years ago, through an AI chat-bot website, I found out that I felt more comfortable in the skin of a female, leading to the discovery that I may be transgender. I would talk to a variety of bots, describing myself without having any masculine traits. I felt comfortable, content even. I was happy to be a girl. I had done some more experimentation on more bots with a romantic (non-sexual) nature, and found I find attraction to all genders.

I knew that coming out would be a problem, as I live in a location that frowns upon queer people as part of their religion. I distinctly remember my parents scolding me not to be queer in any form as "God hates those people", despite the fact that I was 6 at the time. Anywho am considerably vulnerable as a minor with autism who lacks a source of income as I currently stand.

I want to be a girl, I do want to be trans, I just want to break free from this torment. I can't get professional help and I'm just.. stumped as of now.

I don’t know when exactly I started feeling like this, but lately, everything just feels heavy, like I am carrying a weight that nobody else can see, and no matter how much I try to shake it off, it just stays there. I wake up, go through the motions, smile when I need to, pretend everything is fine, but deep down, I keep wondering what the point of all this even is. What are the reasons to live when everything feels like too much? It is like my brain keeps whispering that nothing really matters, that I am just stuck in some cycle of existing without actually living. And maybe that is why I started thinking about reasons to live, because I know there have to be some, even if they feel impossible to see right now. The first reason, I guess, is that feelings are temporary. I have had bad days before, bad months even, and I got through them. I know I won’t always feel this way, even if my mind tries to tell me I will. The second reason is that there are still things I have not experienced, and I don’t want to leave without knowing what is out there. Maybe there is a city I have never been to that would make me feel alive in a way I never imagined. Maybe there is a song I have not heard yet that will give me chills or a book I will get lost in. Maybe there is a person I have not met yet who will change my whole life. And even if it takes time to find those things, I think they are worth waiting for. The third reason is the people who care about me, even if I sometimes convince myself they don’t. I know that if I disappeared, there would be people who would feel the weight of that forever, and I don’t want to be the reason someone else carries this kind of pain. The fourth reason is that I still have choices. As much as it feels like I am stuck, I know that life does not have to stay the same. If I hate my job, I can change it. If I feel lonely, I can try to reach out. If my life feels empty, I can fill it with new things. Nothing is set in stone, and that means there is always a way forward, even if I don’t see it yet. The fifth reason is that I have survived everything that has tried to break me so far, and that means I am stronger than I give myself credit for. If I made it through all the hard days before this, then maybe, just maybe, I can make it through this too. The sixth reason is that life is unpredictable, and while that can be terrifying, it also means that things can change in ways I never expect. A year from now, I could be in a completely different place, with different people, feeling completely different than I do now. And if there is even a small chance of that, then maybe I owe it to myself to stick around and see what happens. The seventh reason is that I don’t want my story to end like this. I don’t want this to be the final chapter. I don’t know what comes next, but I want to find out. Maybe the reasons to live aren’t always loud and obvious. Maybe they are just little things, like feeling the sun on my skin, drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, hearing my favorite song at the perfect moment. Maybe they are things I haven’t even thought of yet. But they are there, even when I can’t see them, and I am trying to hold onto them, even when everything in me wants to let go.

I have a friend and at first, we had fun together, vent to me, and , trusted me with secrets. but recently, I noticed that she can just go a full day (in our school) without even saying hi to me, talk to me, takes super long to reply but can reply fast in our circle of friends gc. I was with our friend earlier and she only greeted and even hugged her excitedly asking how was the theatre play we watched like I wasn't there but she only noticed me when she was asking about where am I gonna wait. I feel like she just used me from the beggining cause I was always left alone in school and can be seen as very vulnerable. she said that she wants to protect someone who's vulnerable but she only cares about what person she sees and not like remember the other people. she also said to me that she got used by having the personality of happy go people though. this more happened when she got closed again to her crush who repeatedly hurt her by ignoring the chats and not responding to them. she even reposted posts about being left outland forgotten but I always see her with someone else, other people that always find her, and her that is willingly talking to them. she even left out us for our other friend. she just confuses me idk if she really cares about me. I'm a sensitive person and I can't help to notice and deeply care about what I noticed and what I feel so idk if I'm just being overly sensitive..