Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

a poem a wrote to my stepmum who abused me

Dear abuser,

How are you able to sleep at night?

After what you've done

All the anger and pain you've caused

The things you put me through

Dear abuser,

Are you happy now?

Breaking and bending teenagers spirt

Leaving wounds deeper than skin

Dear abuser,

How can you live with yourself?

Forcing teenagers to run away as their only other choice was death

Mentally and physically injuring them in the process

Dear abuser,

Does it feel good to get your way?

Is it everything you wanted?

Was it worth all the pain and suffering you caused?

Dear abuser,

I hope your happy now

I hope it was all worth it

The pain you put me through hasn't broken me

Dear abuser,

I know you will never get what you deserve

But this is my way of getting justice

I hope you read this one day

And realise its about you

Dear abuser,

I hate you.

Yours truly,

A survivor

It’s weird to even say this out loud, but I got a tattoo to cover my self-harm scars. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. The whole idea started off as something empowering, like reclaiming my body, right? You know the line, “Your skin is your story”—some therapist threw that out years ago during one of my low points. It stuck. I thought maybe, just maybe, putting something beautiful over something so painful would help change the narrative. So I chose a design I’d doodled in a journal years ago—something abstract but meaningful, sort of a fractured mandala, each line connecting past and present. The artist was kind and didn't ask too many questions, just looked me in the eye and said, “We’ll make this a transformation piece.” That sounded nice. Better than what it really was: me trying to hide from myself in ink and pain management creams.

Now that it’s been a few weeks, I stare at it and feel conflicted. The tattoo is well done—technically clean, good contrast, smart shading—but the scars are still visible beneath it. Not physically, not if you’re just glancing. But I know they’re there. That skin holds memory like film holds shadows, and even the pigment can’t overwrite the fact that I hurt myself deliberately, over and over, for years. Sometimes I catch my reflection and wonder who I’m trying to fool. Is this ink for healing, or just another form of concealment? It’s a question I keep circling, like a moth around a porchlight. I'm 38 now. Not a kid experimenting with identity. Not a teenager struggling with trauma she couldn’t name. A grown adult who still can't quite figure out what to do with all this leftover pain.

The part I didn’t expect was how other people would respond. Friends said things like “Wow, that’s powerful” or “It’s so meaningful,” like they were in on some secret spiritual moment. I smiled and nodded and said things like “Yeah, it represents growth,” but I never corrected them when they assumed it was just art for art’s sake. One coworker even said, “That’s dope, did it hurt?” and I just laughed and said “Not more than the stuff it’s covering.” He didn’t get it. And maybe I didn’t want him to. The truth is, there's a whole subculture around tattooing over scars, and it's not always about covering things up—sometimes it's about honoring survival. But I’m not sure if I survived something, or if I just stalled it.

I know this might come across as ungrateful or overly cynical, especially since not everyone gets a second chance to rewrite their skin. But what if rewriting isn't enough? What if healing isn't about erasing the past but learning to live with it in broad daylight? Some days I think I did the right thing—turned something painful into something beautiful, like alchemy. Other days, I feel like I’ve just added another mask, one that requires constant touch-ups and explanation. I'm not embarrassed by the scars anymore, but I am tired of what they represent: all those years spent pretending I was fine, when I was really just holding myself together with caffeine and denial.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is—if you’re thinking about getting a self-harm tattoo, ask yourself why. Like really, why. Is it closure? Is it expression? Is it shame in disguise? Maybe it’s a mix of all those. I can’t tell you the right answer because I still don’t know mine. All I know is that ink fades slower than memory, and covering something up doesn’t always mean it’s healed. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe healing isn’t linear. But I do wish someone had told me that before I sat down in that studio, gripping the chair like it was gonna save me.

Just as the title says, my school does care more than my family. More about if I'm okay, if I'm hurting, if i'm overwell okay. Where my family only cares if I convenience them or are doing something they don't like. They've caused me severe anxiety, manic depression, atychiphobia (fear of failure), Bipolar, and an ED. They only focus on what benefits them or if i'm disappointing them. My sibling is the worst, they ignore me unless they find something to tell the person who cares for us.

For the past 6 years I’ve been fighting to be noticed and seen by my family, I have 6 siblings, and that counting the half siblings on my mom AND my dad’s side. So, it was hard to get attention. It was hard to get anything, when my dad came back from prison. I was 7 or 8, and at the time me and my family were living with my grandparents (except for my mom, she left us)

So needless to say I missed him, like any child would. But, he barely payed attention to me. When I had problems he would brush them off, when my older brother was physically abusing he didn’t stop him either. Sure, they “talked” but that didn’t make it stop. Years go by…. I try and try and try to tell him that I’m depressed, that I NEED help. And you know what he does? He sits me down and helps me smoke a joint, I was 13. And when I was high out of my mind, that’s when I realized. He didn’t care, he didn’t care if my brother was hurting me. He didn’t care if I was suicidal, he didn’t give a fuck. So i stopped caring, I stopped talking. I stopped leaving my room and only talked to people online because at least THEY noticed me, I felt invisible. It’s funny, it’s not even my dad. It was EVERYONE in my family, my twin and my older sister were quiet about it all and my two younger brothers were KIDS. They didn’t know what was going on, my stepmom didn’t say much either. But everything changed when we moved to Colorado, you see. My Older brother SA my sister for years (she was 9 when it started) the reason why I know is that my dad told me. Because he thought I would be nicer too her after I heard about it, what it really did is fuck me up for 6 months. That wasn’t the only thing that happened though, he basically blamed me for “not being a good sister”

Ever since then, everything got better. I lived in a apartment with my stepmom and my sister and that was probably the best thing that could happen, my stepmom told me that she was sorry for everything and now tells my dad that it wasn’t JUST my sister who got hurt by him, my sister and I have a good relationship and my brother and I are still chill. My dad still blames me for like 75% of what my older brother did to me… idk anymore, I’m still mad that he didn’t give a fuck until my “darling” of a sister told him what happened to her. I know I’m a bad person for saying this but, I’m envious of my sister. Because she at least gets taken seriously

Ps: sorry for all of the typos I KNOW I’m gonna make

My husband Alex and I have always been in a slightly better financial position compared to my sister Claire's family. This has somehow resulted in my parents going above and beyond for her, while our family receives considerably less attention. My daughter, Emma, who is 7, typically gets inexpensive toys from local dollar shops during gift-giving occasions, whereas her cousins are treated to elaborate LEGO sets, brand-new iPads, and even vacations to Disney World. If Claire needs someone to watch her kids last-minute, my parents don’t think twice. However, if I ask for similar help, I need to give them a notice of at least two weeks, along with paying them for their time.

This imbalance has genuinely affected the relationship between my daughter and her grandparents. Emma barely recognizes them as her grandparents; she usually thinks only of her dad's parents in that regard. Today, we had a rare family gathering at my parents' house. During the visit, Emma asked if she could play on the trampoline, which unfortunately was off-limits as it was "reserved" for my nephews. Despite her pleads, my father refused her request, leading Emma to storm off in frustration, loudly expressing her preference for her other grandparents. My parents then looked towards me, seemingly expecting me to scold her, but I didn’t.

Later, during a phone conversation, my mother insisted I should have corrected Emma, arguing it was inappropriate for her to express her feelings so bluntly. I responded by pointing out that they've never made much of an effort to prove they don't favor her cousins, which led to a silence before she reiterated that I should control what Emma says to family members before ending the call.

My husband supports me, although he has his reservations about my family. But I’m here seeking a third-party perspective: am I wrong in this situation?

It's rare for us to visit my parents; we only do so on festive occasions or under special circumstances, like today when I needed to retrieve a document left to me in a will. Regarding babysitting, I've asked only twice, during emergencies, and both times they were unable to assist. I have broached the subject of apparent favoritism before, but the response always circles back to the notion that we don't need as much help financially, which they say isn't favoritism.

Imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality TV show. Viewers would likely be up in arms seeing the overt preferential treatment and the cold refusal of a child's simple wish like playing on a trampoline. The stark contrast in treatment between the cousins could potentially spark outrage, and discussions about family dynamics and fairness could dominate social media platforms, enticing audiences to tune in week after week.

I am conflicted what to do how to do it, so im not enjoying inside my family and feel like i dont belong, im strongly considering leaving them behind but idk if its worth it with the implications that come, i think i got trauma off them but i dont think its so much of a excuse, yet when i respectfully tried to talk about it i get shutdown, not sure if cutting them out is selfish or im rightful to it, ur guys thoughts please

I feel right now that nothing about outside people holds any meaning for me, only my actions have meaning. I feel that what my father does no longer matters, nor the doctors who treated me, nor anything like that. I only seek to act meaningfully in accordance with my actions, not what others give them. I don't even care if they're in sync or not, beyond the agreements we make.

I feel like right now I don't care about anything or anyone, given that everyone's life is everyone's own life, and I can't do more than that. I'm not even interested in getting to know them in depth, at least those around me, since that's an activity they haven't delved into. I feel like I'm with people who have a vague interest in exploring themselves. Recently, my father was strangely reminiscing about one of my books, one of the things I like to read, saying he was going to give me this or that, spontaneously. I've always had the feeling that he was trying to keep me from reading those things.

For some time now, and I think this is why I'm like this, I feel like my father has wanted to attack my psychoanalytic readings. He's like my mother. This family doesn't want anything to be revealed under any circumstances. To the point that they resort to desperate measures. I hope that if I tell this to the psychiatrist, she'll at least let me finish the conversation instead of focusing on what is this and what is that, in depth; I can now understand a girl I knew who just wanted their conversations to flow; people interrupted her a lot. My family isn't interested in being discovered, neither on my father's side nor on my mother's side, under any circumstances. They want everything buried, and that seems irresponsible to me. To go so far as to attack Sigmund Freud? To attack Lacan as well? I think it's already reaching unhealthy extremes.

In fact, I feel that my father, being a doctor, is no longer seeing the limits of reality. Yesterday, she thanked me for reading her messages. She's reaching extreme levels of discernment, something I don't like; in fact, it horrifies me. My family is focused on re-educating me at all costs, on burden after burden after burden. They've become a group of people who are out of their depth. They simply think about our union without any measure. I see them as distrustful people; in fact, I've gone so far as to describe them as not acting normally. Their desire to be in control is excessive, as if something were about to break them permanently. And I understand because it was clear, and even I saw it that way, that I was going to stay with them permanently, serving them, and that didn't turn out to be the case.

I've been observing for some time now that I'm breaking their patterns of reality. That is, they no longer see me as how they used to see me, and they don't see that, and that's why they're always giving in, giving in, without realizing it, exhausted and without any reasoning. They're not well. It seems my behavior has gotten out of their hands, especially my father's. Since my change, the family isn't functioning as normally as usual, to the point where even family members are betraying each other. It's as if they can't process the weaknesses within their structure that I've been able to see. I insist, they haven't been well in their heads for a long time. In fact, they're not reasoning to the point where they judge how I speak, with the tone being what bothers them. In short, I've shattered the family structure, and they've made their lives hell, as if they no longer had a basis for life, simply giving rise to these behaviors.

All of them, I'm observing, now feel like they're without a family because there's no solid structure. It's always been this way, but now they're showing it. In fact, the simple fact that I've changed, from being the easiest to seduce to now the impossible, has completely changed their lifestyles. None of their manipulative strategies are working. It's as if they now feel the world has the opportunity to eat away at them, and they're taking advantage of it. They feel beyond their power and facing the worst of things: others supporting me because, of course, the outside now has power over them thanks to me, just as it always wanted, given that they always trampled on their surroundings.

I feel like everything has turned upside down for my family. They never thought I would rebel and succeed. I fell many times, and from those times they swore I wouldn't succeed, but they didn't count the constant attempts, and also that I wasn't looking for something immediate but gradual and this time effective, something not present in the other cases. None of their conditioning, nor can I believe it, has any effect on me now. They feel, I experience, that they have lost a family member even though they have them right in front of them, and they can't tolerate the feeling, and that their presence contradicts my own; that combination is too harsh for them, somewhat for which I wasn't prepared, and which is the cause of their instability.

Furthermore, the following happens: How could I emerge triumphant from the treatment as usual if there was no support whatsoever from others in terms of the groundwork for maintenance, for stability? In theory, for them, everything should have been in favor, finally, of producing the extreme fatigue necessary for suggestion, but it's not possible. This is something that simply doesn't add up for them; it's as if they also feel that something in them was born different from them, that they developed differently, as if they weren't a member of the family, having been the fruit of a procreation in which their blood participated. Everything is out of whack for them, which is gratifying because it implies that their tools of family inclusion, which worked for me, no longer work for others, and consequently their dominance, even if sporadic, is weak and of no inspiration to the members trapped there. The family is therefore dismantled on my part, and it's the way for others to dismantle it. It's as if their own actions of uniting the family actually lead to the opposite, to the same thing they said, even as a child, would happen with the acts of suggestion they performed, swearing that things were different on the outside, but that turned out not to be the case.

Hello everybody,

Recently, I became the owner of my maternal grandmother's house, a generous inheritance that felt like winning the lottery. This beautiful home, located a mere hop from the city outskirts, is a perfect sanctuary for my husband, our two children, and myself. Considering our combined income, purchasing a similar property would have been an impossible dream due to the sky-high prices in the real estate market. We're both careful with money, but sometimes, even careful planning isn't enough to compete against such a tough housing landscape.

My half-sister, Mia, shares the same father as me, and we’ve maintained a close, supportive relationship over the years. Recently, Mia secured a job in her dream field right in the bustling city center. Despite the job's appeal, the salary isn’t enough to cover city center rents, and commuting from farther away wouldn't make financial sense either.

When Mia asked to move in with us while she got established, it seemed like a great solution for everyone. She was enthusiastic about contributing to household chores and mentioned she’d be saving money to move out eventually. I was happy to help by offering her the guest room.

Mia has been living with us for about a month, busily settling into her new position. Until now, everything ran smoothly. Occasionally, I would need her to assist with family responsibilities, such as preparing dinner or putting the kids to bed on nights when my husband and I were delayed at work, and she managed well.

However, a recent incident created some friction. Our youngest child fell ill at school and needed to be picked up. I couldn't leave work immediately due to severe train delays, and my husband was unreachable. Since we live just five minutes away from the school, I texted Mia, who was working from home that day, to see if she could help out. Her response was that she’d try to manage it after her meetings ended. This upset me because it seemed she wasn't prioritizing an urgent family need.

I asked her to explain to her boss that this was a family emergency and that she needed a short break to collect her niece, making it clear she could return to her tasks right after. Mia retorted that her workday was still packed, and she couldn't spare time for unexpected childcare duties.

Our conversation escalated as I reminded her of her promise to help around the house, to which she countered that she wasn’t just free labor. Currently, the atmosphere at home is strained, and I feel stuck in a difficult position.

Imagine if this family tension played out on a reality show. The reactions from audiences would be intense and divided. Some might sympathize with the pressure Mia feels juggling a new job and familial expectations, while others might praise or criticize my insistence on immediate family support during emergencies.

What do you think? I want other opinions to help me...

Everyone is so mean to me, like really mean!!!! I do not even understand what the hell is going on anymore?? I'm 19 and I go to uni like everyone else, I’m studying communications and marketing which is supposed to be all about people and connection and empathy and whatever, but none of these girls in my program act like they’ve even seen a human being before!!! They literally look at me like I’m dirt on their shoes, and I swear it’s just cause I’m hot. I look older than them, maybe mid-20s or something, I’ve been told that a million times at parties or events, and somehow that’s enough for these girls to start whispering and side-eyeing me??? I walk into a seminar room and it's dead silence. Dead. Like did I say something to them??? No. Never. I'm polite, I say hi, I try to make convo, but no. They just act cold as ice like I'm some alien with a disease. It's so pathetic honestly.

And yes, I have an OnlyFans, so what???? What’s the issue???? I make real money. Like more than enough to cover rent, tuition, food, and still have nice things. My content is nothing extreme, nothing illegal, nothing wild — it’s art, okay?? High-quality photography, consistent brand aesthetic, SEO optimization, smart pricing tiers, premium subscriber rewards — it’s literally textbook content marketing but with my face and body, so of course it works. But these girls act like I committed murder!!! I heard one of them saying "at least I’m not selling myself online" like?? Babe, I’m not selling myself. I’m selling a lifestyle, a vibe, a curated digital persona that pays for my goddamn bills while you’re still begging your dad to Venmo you 20 bucks for takeout. Grow up. Stop acting like I’m some kind of danger to the institution of higher education or whatever. You're just bitter.

It’s been like this since the second week of semester. First week they were fake-nice, you know? Those little “omg we should study together!” type lies. Then they all slowly ghosted me. I had one girl literally leave a group project and switch teams just cause she “didn’t feel comfortable.” Like be real, what part of me is uncomfortable??? Is it the fact I have better makeup? Is it cause I know how to dress well for my body type and don’t show up in wrinkled leggings and knock-off Crocs?? Or is it cause guys on campus actually talk to me, and it bothers you that I don’t even chase them? They come to me. They ask ME for notes. They offer ME rides. Maybe focus on why you hate yourself so much that you think someone else’s success is a personal attack. Like what even is the psychology behind that????

But whatever. I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t hurt — it really freaking does. I go home some days and just cry, cause it’s lonely out here when you’re actually doing well for yourself and no one claps for you. Like damn, I’m 19, I’m running a profitable content platform with solid monthly growth, I ace my presentations, and I still get treated like trash by basic girls who can't even spell "algorithm." 😤 But I’m not gonna stop. No way. I love how I look, I love making money, and I love the future I’m building. If you hate me for that, that says way more about you than it ever will about me. Maybe one day they’ll grow up and realize the world isn’t high school anymore. Until then, I’ll be doing me — and maybe that’s enough. Or maybe not???

Why do i feel attached to people who hurt me? So like, i have this friend, whom i considered one of my few close friend, i told him i was bi, he was fine with it, but after a yew years he suddenly just texted me smth like "i hate people who's being special on purpose" "if you weren't bi you would be more special" "instead of posting art why not focus on getting a scholarship", honestly this hurts me a lot, i blocked him but for some reason a part of me wants to unblock him and still text him- like i miss him but i hate him idkkkkk- i also made friends with someone, i liked them a lot even tho they told me how to hrm myslf and took pictures of me even tho i told them dont, which made me uncomfortable, so why did i feel so sad and lonely when they were gone?

Like genuinely I’m really starting to believe the whole ‘it’s really about the mindset’ thing like going into manifesting and all like IM in control with what I do with my life.. so I just have a couple stuff to ask about manifesting??

< attraction vs detachment vs assumption which is better??

< so manifesting is all about the mind and what u believe in so I don’t really have to do all that affirmations?

< like genuinely how can I make my mind believe something that isn’t there?

A Home That Doesn’t Feel Like Home

Lately, I feel like my own house isn’t my safe place anymore. Ang ingay ng sigawan at away ni mama’t papa, parang wala nang pahinga. I thought after losing kuya and mommy, they would see me, take care of me, hold me a little closer. For a while, they did — but only for a short time. After three months, they went back to their old ways. They knew my triggers, they knew how much their fighting breaks me, pero parang wala lang.

When I got sick, I just wanted to be found. I left my door unlocked hoping mama would come in, sit beside me, ask how I was. Pero when papa told her to check on me, she answered coldly, like caring for me was a burden. Masakit marinig na parang wala akong halaga.

It hurts even more because I help her at home. I wash the dishes, I clean, I do my part. Pero kahit gano’n, mas maalaga at mas sweet pa sila sa pinsan ko, kahit hindi naman siya nakakatulong sa gawaing bahay. Ako na nga yung gumagawa, ako pa yung parang hindi nakikita.

That’s why these past weeks, I’ve been cold to them. Parang mas gusto pa nila yung pinsan ko kaysa sakin. They don’t realize how much it kills my spirit when I give, give, and give, but I don’t feel cared for in return.

I feel so fragile. I miss kuya, I miss mommy, I miss the way they made me feel safe and loved. I just want someone to take care of me, especially when I’m sick. Pero sa halip, I get sharp voices, cold answers, and the feeling that I’m too much to deal with.

Sometimes, I just want to leave this place. Ang hirap tumira sa bahay na parang hindi tahanan. I want peace, I want love, I want to breathe.

And maybe they’ll never really understand, but I know this: my pain is real, my longing is valid, and I deserve the kind of love that doesn’t make me beg for it.

Even if my own house doesn’t feel like home, I’m learning to carry myself and be my own safe place.

I moved across the country to be with someone let everyone I know behind. Everything was perfect when we were long distant. We would talk everyday, FaceTime all day. Then after I moved it just seemed to stop. It’s the little things I miss. The good morning texts, the kisses goodbye of I’m sleeping and they have to work. Sending TikTok’s all day . All of it just stopped and o feel like I’m just being dumb.. like that stuff shouldn’t matter, but.. done some reason it does to me.

My mother, who is 75 years old, recently discovered she requires a knee replacement operation that isn't fully covered by her insurance. The total out-of-pocket costs add up to $15,000. My elder brother, Jake, rang me up to see if I could cover half of these expenses. Financially, I've been on shaky ground for the last few years. I had to secure a loan just to cover my car payments and am barely keeping my head above water with my regular bills. Jake, conversely, holds a well-paying position, resides in a large home, and frequently vacations.

I made it clear to him that I'm not in a position to fork out such an amount at the moment, but he persisted. He accused me of being uncaring toward our mother’s health and labeled me selfish. He argued that he is already paying more than his share, considering he cares for her daily. It’s true—I live miles away, so he does handle most of her care.

I deeply care about our mom and wouldn't want her to suffer, yet it seems Jake can't grasp the depth of my financial troubles. He suggested I take out another loan, but the idea of sinking further into debt is just plain frightening. Currently, Jake and I aren't speaking, and this rift makes me feel incredibly guilty every time I speak to mom. She's aware that she needs financial assistance for the operation. However, she doesn’t know about the conflict it’s sparked between us.

The situation worsened when I proposed that Jake could perhaps shoulder a greater share of the cost, given his financial stability. That suggestion infuriated him. He accused me of exploiting his financial success and shirking my duties when needed most. He keeps reminding me of the personal sacrifices he makes in caring for our mom, suggesting the least I could do was support financially. While I acknowledge his stress and sacrifices, my financial bandwidth is stretched too thin.

Our discussions have grown tense and fraught with misunderstandings. Jake even mentioned severing ties if I fail to contribute. This leaves me trapped between my financial limitations and my responsibilities. Suppose all of this were unfolding on a reality TV show. Viewers might be divided, with some sympathizing with my financial plight, while others might agree with Jake about stepping up financially in times of family need. Reality TV thrives on conflicts like ours, possibly escalating emotions and tensions to boost audience engagement.

How would people react if this conflict aired on a reality show?

It is my time to say goodbye now

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JdNLbap0V8QYpjjrcZCqpRVawIJI48Y6KT0DDjr8BMY/edit?usp=drivesdk