Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I really wish I wasn’t sick. That people didn’t look at me as if I was a lost cause. That people didn’t have to worry about upsetting me, or think that I do things because I feel like I have to. I wish people didn’t walk on eggshells around me or feel the need to ask me a bunch of questions about my feelings. I wish people could realize that sometimes I do nice things because I want to, not out of obligation. I wish I didn’t hate silence around everyone but one person. But alas, I’m stuck with a brain that halfway works and the emotional range of a football field.

Recently, my friend Angela has been going through quite a rough patch with her husband, and it seems like she needs all the support she can get. Our friendship had been on pause for about four years, but we've reconnected. Now, she has developed a habit of popping by whenever she feels like it, usually with a whole crowd in tow.

Just to give you an idea of what I'm dealing with, let's talk about last Friday, which happened to be her husband’s birthday. Earlier in the week, she mentioned she was planning a dinner outing for him. However, on Friday morning, her plans seemed to change. She rang me up, curious about what I was doing. When I mentioned that I planned a quiet day watching movies at home, she immediately pitched the idea of coming over to my place for a BBQ instead. She assured me that it would just be her and the kids, which seemed manageable, so I agreed, though a bit reluctantly since I wasn't prepared for guests.

No sooner had I started tidying up than she called again, now more excited than before. Suddenly, her solo family visit had expanded to include a male friend of hers and possibly another one for me, plus another one of her friends. Just like that, my quiet day turned into a potential party scene without my consent. She hadn't asked if it was okay to invite additional people or even if she could distribute my address.

Overwhelmed, I used an incoming call as an excuse to hang up and buy some time. When Angela didn't hear back from me, she inundated my phone with calls. Eventually, I texted her that something unexpected had come up and that hosting was off the table. She didn’t respond. Curious, I later called to check in only to find out she had dropped the BBQ idea altogether. When I questioned her about not using her apartment and grill, and scrapping the dinner plans, she dodged the former and mentioned wanting to save money on the latter.

Now, imagine if all of this happened with cameras rolling in a reality show setting. The confrontation, unexpected guests, and last-minute cancellations would probably escalate dramatically, showcasing a mix of hectic planning and perhaps some humorous, awkward interactions. The viewers would get a kick out of seeing how everyone's reactions played out live, adding an extra layer of entertainment and possibly some sympathy for my predicament.

Was I wrong for evading the setup and ignoring her follow-up calls?

I'm trans ftm right-

I have this friend(not my partner fyi. different person.), I'll call her A I guess. She usually just teases me about my partner and stuff and like occasionally I feel like she takes it too far. Some jokes are cool, I get it. But calling me gay(I support gay people fyi, however I'm not) got old quick, since that's the only thing she really talks to me about. Occasionally she'll call me a girl to make fun of me, even when I say that I'm not comfortable with it. She steals my stuff, even when I say not to. I get that its out of humour, but am I in the wrong for this?

It’s hard to explain to people without sounding dramatic. From the outside, everything probably looks fine. We’ve been married for eight years, we don’t fight often, we keep the house clean, pay our bills on time, and take care of the kids. But behind all that routine is this empty space between us that keeps getting wider. He’s here, but he’s not really here. My husband is emotionally unavailable, and it feels like I’m married to a shadow. When something upsets me, he doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t comfort. He just nods or says “Sorry you feel that way,” and moves on like I didn’t just open uup my chest and hand him my heart. I’ve learned to stop expecting warmth. I’ve learned to cry quietly in the bathroom so I don’t make him uncomfortable. And that’s the part that breaks me—how me feeling something seems to bother him more than it bothers me.

I didn’t always notice it this deeply. In the beginning, it was just little things—him brushing off serious conversations, or giving one-word answers when I tried to connect. But back then, I thought maybe he just needed time, that maybe it was hard for him to express himself. He had a rough childhood, he never really saw healthy communication growing up, and I gave him grace for that. Maybe too much grace. I thought love would soften him. I thought my patience would eventually make him feel safe enough to open up. But years passed, and I realized I was building a bridge alone, with no one walking toward me on the other side. Every time I tried to talk about our lack of emotional closeness, he’d say, “I don’t know what you want me to do.” As if connection was a task, and not a part of being in love. I’ve begged for something deeper, and all I get is distance in return.

Now I just feel tired. I feel lonely in a house with someone who promised to be my partner. I scroll through my phone, seeing couples who laugh together, cry together, talk—and I feel like I’m watching life happen from a glass window. I envy people who feel seen. I try to bring it up sometimes, gently, hoping something clicks, but it never does. He shuts down, gets quiet, or changes the subject. I’m not asking for grand romantic speeches or poetry—I just want him to notice me. To feel with me. But it’s like there’s a wall I can’t break, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep knocking. I still love him, but I don’t feel loved in return. And I wonder, often, if this is all marriage will ever be—doing life together, but never really together.

Hey, guys. So, I've been grappling with a bit of a morally gray area lately, and I could really use some outside perspective. Is it bad to watch porn? I get that it's a touchy subject, and opinions on it vary greatly. Sometimes, I feel like everyone does it, but no one talks about it, almost like it's this secret secluded to the hidden corners of our lives. The alluring consumption of adult content is accessible as ever due to modern technology and the privacy it offers, yet the stigma surrounding it remains quite palpable. It leads one to wonder about its implications, both psychologically and ethically. I mean, sure, on the surface level, indulging in pornography feels like a harmless escapade, almost like ordering takeout instead of cooking. But is it nearly as innocent as it seems?

There's something undeniably magnetic about the immediate gratification it offers, and let's face it, the variety is vast. However, I can't help but feel that there's a darker underlying current. Does it adversely affect our perception of reality? Impacts cognition and behavior? Or maybe even our relationships with others? These questions keep swirling around in my head. The industry sure is a juggernaut, boasting millions of viewers but is it all coming at a hefty price? Does it heighten unrealistic expectations or foster an unhealthy cycle that one struggles to escape from? I know personally, it's hindered my capacity to connect meaningfully with partners at times. And the feeling of guilt lingers, a byproduct of wondering if I'm feeding into something more sinister. Are others feeling this duality of pleasure and guilt too, or is it just me? Ugh, it's complicated, isn't it? 🤔

I am the oldest child in my family, and as an oldest and a daughter, I have been expected to help take care of my siblings and house since I was probably around 10. my responsibilities and the amount of work that I take on has grown since then. I am 16, soon to be 17 right now, and I used to only have one little sister, and she was only 3 years younger than me. so I don't remember much from her being a toddler, and I definitely wasn't expected to help take care of her. but as we got older, I started to be told more and more that I needed to make sure that she was getting her chores done, or help her with her homework. basic things like that. well eventually those little things grow into making dinner, making sure that my sister gets to school on time. driving her to all of her events. dropping her off at her friends houses, or picking up her friends after school to give them a ride home. I had already been starting to struggle a little bit with figuring out when and where my parents wanted me to take on a more parental role to her. for the most part, it hasn't been too difficult, she just thinks that I can be a bit bossy sometimes, and she thinks that I try to act like a parent, and that makes her upset. I understand why that would upset her, and I do tend to take on a role that puts me in charge, but that is only because I am trying to keep everything together on days when my dad is gone, and my mom is unable to deal with it due to her MS or depression. I grew up dealing with her always being upset with me for things like that though, so I have gotten used to it and learned how to deal with it. unfortunately it has made it a little more difficult for me to have a good sisterly relationship with her, but I hope that one day she will understand why I have felt that I have had to be a little more bossy at times, and that its only because I want her to be set up the best that she can be. well things have gotten a little more complicated recently. my family have done foster care for a few years now. we have been fostering a 3 year old boy for a little over a year now. he is a great kid, but he has a lot of medical issues. we are hoping to be able to adopt him, but we will have to see how things go. well anyway, it has been a big change for me. he is 13 years younger than me, and I have had to learn how to live with a little kid, and learn how to work with most of his medical requirements. at this point, I am pretty sure that I have tagged along to more of the little guy's appointments than my dad has. when I agreed to doing the foster care, I had expected that my parents would be doing almost all of the work with the kid, and I would get to be the fun big sister. I still planned on helping out because parenting is tough, but I have devoted so much more of myself to this kid than I thought I would. I don't mind too much, and I have even grown to love the kid like a brother, but it is so much work. I babysit him a lot so my mom can get some rest, I have learned how to do all of his at home stuff. I have to put him to bed a lot because sometimes I am the only one who can get him to go to sleep without throwing a fit. I have had to miss out on events or days out with my friends because someone needed to be home to watch the kid. I also tend to get stuck following him around whenever we go somewhere so that I can make sure that he doesn't get into anything. I bring him into daycare every morning on my way to class, and pick him up at the end of the day. this has made me a lot more involved than I had planned to be. so naturally, I care a lot for the kid, and want to make sure that he is happy and his needs are met. because I really do love him. which is tough for me to get to with the foster kids because of how closed off I force myself to be. so when he is crying or upset, I want to try to figure out what is causing it, and how to make him feel better. I realize that I can't just baby him every time he does that because that is just encouraging bad habits. but I do want to try to figure out why he is upset, and if there is a solution before I just leave it be. well anyway, i was up late tonight, and heard him crying. I texted my mom to see if they needed help, and she said he was asking for a hug from me. so I went upstairs to where his bedroom is, and he was upset and crying, and my dad was cranky because the kid was up. he took the kid to go potty, but since they were both upset things were not being cominicated properly betweenthe two of them, and it was just making things worse. so I stepped in and got him to use the bathroom, and then I was gonna go back to his bedroom to give him a hug, but my dad didn't want me to because he thought he was just stalling to get what he wanted. so when my dad went back to his room and the kid was still crying and shaken up, I went in there to give him a hug, and calm him down a bit. which, what do you know? actually worked. I know I shouldn't have done it when my dad didn't want me to, but the kid was freaking out and didn't understand what was going on, and I couldn't stand to just go to bed with the poor kid still feeling like that. my mom agreed that it would be ok. I just went in to give him a hug, and get him a sip of water. well apparently my dad say me through the baby monitor and got upset. I can definitely get how that would be frustrating and seem like me undermining him as a parent. but honestly, I don't regret it. he's a kid who doesn't like to be left alone, and leaving him shaken up like that when all he wanted was a hug was something that I just couldn't do. thanks for reading this. I guess I just needed to vent. I know that there are people in the world with way bigger problems than this right now. but I just feel lost. I want to be a kid, but I get treated like I am supposed to be a partial parental figure, but then get in trouble when I act like it. am I in the wrong for giving my brother a hug? is this a normal oldest sibling experience? does anyone have any advice for how to be helpful and do what my parents want, while still being able to have some time to be a kid myself?

man, i swear my brain just dont kno how to chill. like, i tell myself stop overthinking but then i start overthinking about overthinking and it just never stops. i love my gf, i really do, but sometimes i feel like im ruining everything just bc my brain wont shut up. like, she’ll text me something simple, like “talk later, busy” and my brain immediately jumps to the worst. is she mad? did i do somethin? is she talkin to someone else? and then i gotta fight myself not to double text, not to say somethin stupid, not to ask questions that will make me look like an insecure idiot. and i hate it. i hate feelin like im too much, like im suffocating her with my own thoughts. but i don’t know how to stop.

it’s not even like she’s given me a reason to feel this way. she’s always been good to me, always been there, always says she loves me. but my brain don’t trust good things. my brain is always waiting for the "but". like, yeah, things are good now, but what if she gets bored? what if she realizes im not enough? what if she’s just staying bc she feels bad for me? it’s like i keep lookin for proof that something’s wrong even when everything is fine. nd it’s exhausting. bc then i act weird, she notices, she asks what’s wrong, and then i gotta lie and say "nothing, just tired" bc what am i supposed to say?? “oh, im just convincing myself u secretly hate me”???

sometimes i think maybe it’s just a me problem. like, maybe i just dont know how to be happy, maybe i need some kinda reassurance constantly that no normal person is willing to give. nd i kno that’s not fair. she’s her own person, she has her own life, she can’t spend every second proving she loves me just bc my brain refuses to believe it. nd the stupidest part? the more i overthink, the more i actually push her away. like, it’s this messed up cycle where i get anxious about losing her, so i act weird, nd then bc im acting weird, things feel off, nd then im like "see?? somethings wrong!!". except the only thing wrong is me.

so yeah, how to stop overthinking in a relationship? hell if i know. if i knew, i wouldn’t be sitting here at 2 am analyzing a text she sent five hours ago like it’s some kinda secret code. maybe i just need to chill. maybe i need to trust that not everyone is gonna leave, that not every silence is bad, that i dont need to be perfect for someone to love me. but thats easier said than done. so for now, i guess i just gotta fake it. pretend im not overthinking until maybe, one day, i actually won’t be.

I took a nap earlier that was an unintentional 9 hours. During that entire time, not a single one of my friends messaged me to check in on me or strike up any conversations. It felt like that once I stopped putting in the effort for a little while, no one actually gave a shit about me. It feels that once I stop trying, I cease to exist in their memories. My one friend is putting more effort into their polycule lately and it feels like because of that they don't care to message me at all until it's late in the evening and the only thing they're messaging me for is to say goodnight and make empty promises to talk to me more in the morning. They're allowed to be happy, I'm happy they are- but what about our friendship? It feels selfish to ask that, feels selfish to want them to stop paying attention to them for more than five minutes to talk to me again. Hell the only time they talk to me like they used to anymore is if one of their wife does something that severely upsets them.

In our early thirties, with a solid seven years of marriage behind us, my life took an unexpected and tragic turn when my husband George suddenly passed away a few months back. Coping with his death has been the most challenging period of my life. In those first numbing weeks, I could barely function. Thankfully, George’s mother was right there to support. She took care of all funeral costs, a gesture for which I was immensely grateful, considering I was in no state to manage anything.

Only recently, I recalled that George had a modest life insurance policy set up through my workplace. I had completely forgotten about it amidst all the grief. After processing the claim, the payout wasn't vast, but it was sufficient to cover my moving expenses back to my hometown and perhaps even a down payment on a small house where I could start anew.

However, the atmosphere changed once my mother-in-law discovered I received this insurance money. She became very upset and demanded that I reimburse her for the funeral expenses, accusing me of taking advantage of her son's death. Her words were not only harsh but deeply wounding; she went as far as to label me as selfish and suggested I was profiting from our loss. At that time, I wasn’t even aware of the insurance policy. Now, as I struggle with my grief, her accusations of me being heartless only increase my pain.

I understand she is grieving too, but attacking me doesn't seem fair. I am merely trying to find a way to heal and begin life anew, something I believe is essential. Given all this, wouldn't paying her back seem like I’m just trying to appease her anger? Right now, I'm at my limit and need to focus on rebuilding my own life.

What if this whole ordeal was under the relentless scrutiny of a reality show? Considering how they thrive on conflict and emotional outpourings, the portrayal of our disagreements could potentially paint me in a terrible light or, conversely, rally support for someone trying to heal from such a substantial personal loss. The public's reaction could vary drastically—some might sympathize with my situation, while others might side with my mother-in-law, viewing my actions through a lens skewed by dramatic narratives.

I’m expectant, albeit somewhat anxious, about the reactions and perhaps criticism that might come my way from sharing this.

I wonder, if I refuse to pay her back, am I being unreasonable?

I feel so selfish whenever I do feel and have thoughts like these, however, I just feel like no one truly understands me. Maybe it's because I've never felt comfortable enough to really be myself, but sometimes I just feel like I'm the odd one out. I've never had those types of friendships where we would call or hang out outside of school. Maybe it's self-centeredness, but I always feel like a second friend or just a back-up. Never as the priority. Yes, I do have friends, but I just don't think our conversations flow smoothly how others do. Or it might just be that we don't have the same interests. I envy friendships where it's easygoing and they can go back-and-forth. Or just understanding each other. I always smile and try to keep the mood light during the school day, but deep down, I feel empty, like what's my purpose in life? Do I even exist in other people's worlds? Do people like me? Or think of me? I get these feelings of a heart dropping or panging occasionally, and I don't know where it comes from, maybe just a sudden wave of sadness. Sometimes I want to hit myself for having these thoughts because I should be grateful for my current friends and family, but I really don't know. I would consider myself happy, but maybe there's a lack of fulfillment somewhere in my life? This rant is probably meaningless, but I just wanted somewhere to vent. Thanks.

I dunno what to do ahahahahaa.. the loml is stalking me. Hahahahah .. it's a bit a grey area it's a good and a bad situation pls help hahahahaha I'm going crazy.

It’s not even like I woke up one morning and thought that... but yeah, I don't really know who I am anymore right now... It was a slow, agonizing realization, one that gnawed at the edges of my mind every damn day, like a relentless parasite. I’ve given up so much of myself for this relationship. My personality, my interests, my humor, my own fucking preferences. I remember how I used to laugh at stupid things, how I loved blasting heavy metal in the car and feeling the bass rumble through my chest. Now, I sit there in silence, pretending to enjoy his godawful indie playlists because, apparently, that's what "we" do. Do you see the irony? I don’t even know who I am because I’ve been eroded, worn down like some fucking rock in a stream. One little compromise at a time, I traded myself for this empty façade of “us.” But what about me?

I don’t even recognize my face in the mirror anymore. I used to wear bold makeup, vivid colors that made me feel fierce and powerful. Now, it’s all muted tones, subtle pinks, and nudes. Why? Because he said it was more “natural.” Natural? Who gives a shit? I used to stand up for myself, used to call people out on their bullshit, but now I find myself swallowing my anger like it’s some bitter pill I have to take just to keep the peace. I hate myself for it. I hate that I’ve become this quiet, compliant version of myself, a woman I’d probably roll my eyes at if I met her. And the worst part? He probably thinks I’m “happy” like this. Well, fuck that. I’m not happy. I’m trapped in a persona I created to survive this relationship, and I’m suffocating in it. How the hell did I get here?

I tried to claw my way back to who I was. I picked up my guitar again, the one I used to play every day before this relationship turned my world into a grayscale. But the strings felt foreign under my fingers. I couldn’t even remember the chords to my favorite song. It was like trying to speak a language I used to be fluent in but had completely forgotten. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is? To lose not just your interests but the muscle memory of who you used to be? It’s like my brain was reprogrammed, overwritten by his preferences, his needs, his fucking whims. And the scary thing is, I let it happen. Bit by bit, I chipped away at myself until there was nothing left but a hollow echo of the woman I used to be. And he didn’t even notice, or worse, he noticed and liked it.

Sometimes, I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck I’m doing. Who am I? Am I even a person anymore, or just some prop in his perfectly curated life? I fantasize about walking out the door, slamming it behind me, and reclaiming my fucking soul. But then I think about the logistics—where would I go, what would I do, how would I even start over? I feel like a ghost, haunting a life I never agreed to live, and I don’t know how to escape. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t even want advice. I just want to scream into the void: I don’t know who I am anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if I scream loud enough, the real me might hear it and claw her way back. Or maybe she’s already gone. Who knows? 🖕

so i’m 28, and i’m sitting here wondering if it’s worth it to get back with my ex. she’s still out there, waiting for me to decide, and i’m stuck in this mess of my own making. i left her a while ago because of the pressure from my parents; they never really liked her. it wasn’t about her as a person—they just couldn’t get past the fact that we have different religious beliefs. it got ugly, and i said things i didn’t mean, things that were fueled by frustration and by the walls closing in around me. and now, i can’t help but think i might’ve thrown away something real.

it’s not like i haven’t tried to move on. i’ve dated a bit, met new people, but no one’s quite clicked the way she did. she’s the one i kept comparing them to, the one who made me feel like i wasn’t alone in the chaos of the world. when we were together, it felt like we were fighting the same fight, you know? like we had each other’s backs no matter what. but then, that fight turned inward, and it wasn’t just about us against the world—it was me against her, me against my family, me against myself. “if you can’t make peace within your own family, how can you expect to find it outside?” that’s what my dad said. it hit hard.

now i’m torn. should i just swallow my pride and reach out to her? i know she still wants to be with me; she’s made that clear in the few awkward texts we’ve exchanged. but part of me wonders if it’s just nostalgia talking. what if we get back together, and the same problems resurface? the arguments, the tension with my parents, the religious differences—they didn’t disappear just because we broke up. they’re still there, waiting like landmines. can love really be enough to overcome all that? or am i just romanticizing what we had because i’m lonely and regretful?

and then there’s her. she deserves better than someone who’s constantly second-guessing his decisions, someone who can’t even stand up to his own parents. if i go back to her, i need to be sure, not just about my feelings but about my readiness to fight for us. i owe her that much. “you can’t build a future on a foundation of doubt,” my brother said once. maybe he’s right. maybe i should let her go and focus on figuring myself out. or maybe, just maybe, we both deserve a second chance. what do you think? am i being a fool, or should i follow my heart this time? 🫤

A few months ago, at the beginning of my sophomore year, I met this guy. He had amazing hair, and dazzling blue eyes. We exchanged socials and talked for a bit, and then he abruptly unfollowed me. I have been thinking about him ever since, even though it's wrong. He has a girlfriend. He's older than I by two years. And he's going back to France at the end of the year. I mean, fuck, I've tried to get this man off my brain. But that just makes him reappear even more. I have had 6 dreams about him since then, and one about his language. I have tried talking to myself about the reality of this situation, and it always brings my out of the feelings, miraculously, but somehow I always end up in this bind of feeling for him again. How do I get over this stranger?

Isn't it strange how life takes unexpected twists and turns??!!! Here I am at 31, feeling like I should have everything figured out by now, but deep inside, I keep asking myself, "Why do I hate myself so much?" You know that feeling when you wake up in the morning and the first thing that pops into your head is, “How did I mess that up again?” That's me, every single day. 😅 I mean, how unfair is it to feel so inadequate despite achieving a decent amount in life??! It's like there's this invisible rain cloud following me around, pouring down self-doubt whenever I least expect it. There's just this sadness that I can't seem to shake off.

Sometimes, I look at myself in the mirror and think, "You're such a loser." And then I remember, I have friends who care, a job that pays the bills, and maybe even a little sparkle of potential hidden somewhere deeper. 🤞 So why?? Why do these thoughts even exist?? After all, it's said you're supposed to love yourself, right? And there's this inner voice whispering louder and louder, "You're your own worst critic, buddy!" It's frustrating, but also oddly motivating because I refuse to let doubt rule my world indefinitely!! Perhaps it's time to channel this energy into something good, to actually believe in myself for once. You've got to love the irony; here I am, dwelling on negative perceptions, yet clinging onto the hope that one day I might just wake up and feel “enough” for real. Is that too much to ask?? 🤔