Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

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.

ppl at school tell me to kms and that apparantly im a lesbian even tho im straight (if you dont belive me , you should see mh addiction with ryan Reynolds) and i have a therapy friend , but i'm scared of them (i dont know if its coz they're really cool , or that i look up to them so much -since im so short , quite literally - or if , idk) so i cant alk t anyone , not my family , not really my friends... soo its being bottled up in my head , now i'm a really fucked up person tbh , i'm so touch/care-deprived that i want to be r@ped and m*rdered.... yeah

Living in England with my South Asian wife and our twin boys, we've encountered a unique cultural blend within our family. I am white British and relatively uncreative when it comes to names; my own is quite generic. Nevertheless, we agreed early on that our children would carry my surname, "Smith," while my wife would choose their first names. She selected beautiful names from her culture: Ramin Navroz Smith and Rustom Parvez Smith. The meanings behind these names - 'joyous new year' and 'victorious hero' respectively - resonated with us, as did their distinct yet harmonious sound.

Both boys are under two years old and while they share similar features, their appearances diverge due to their mixed heritage. Ramin has inherited his mother’s darker features while Rustom shows lighter traits like mine. Despite being based in cosmopolitan London, where diversity is celebrated, somme comments from family members have sparked concern.

The issues began with my sister-in-law making offhand remarks that Ramin aptly fit his name but Rustom did not. Subsequently, she and my brother began affectionately calling Rustom "Russell," a nickname which quickly caught on among other relatives. Despite our repeated disapprovals, the nickname persisted to the point where Rustom began responding to it. We firmly requested that this stop, leading to emotional upset from my sister-in-law and accusations of over-sensitivity from other family members.

We stood our ground, restricting visits from family members who continued using the nickname, arguing that it inadvertently emphasizes racial differences that our young boys are too innocent to understand. The insistence on using a “whiter” nickname for Rustom seems particularly thoughtless given that it could seed a sense of disparity between him and his brother.

Friends and extended family claim we are overreacting and that the comparisons and nicknames are harmless. However, we worry about the long-term effects of these early distinctions based on physical appearance.

Wonder how all of this would play out if we were part of a reality show? Surely the viewers would have a field day debating our choices and maybe the public scrutiny would sway my relatives into reconsidering their stance. Or perhaps, it would just amplify the drama and misunderstanding.

Is it really overthinking to want my boys to grow up without imposed biases that could shape how they see themselves and each other? Are we being unreasonable in trying to protect our children from these seemingly small, yet potentially harmful, acts of distinction?

This summer marked the beginning of a new chapter for my husband and I, celebrating our first season in a new home equipped with a large, fenced backyard perfect for gatherings. We were both thrilled at the prospect of hosting our first big barbecue, inviting both sides of our family. A lot of effort and resources went into planning this event to make sure everything was perfect.

Early today, my sister Laura, 35, sent a text expressing her excitement about bringing her "babies" to see our new place and reunite with the family. However, her "babies" are her four medium to large-sized dogs, known for their rambunctious behavior. These dogs frequently jump on people, have a tendency to snatch food, and unfortunately, Laura often overlooks cleaning up after them. My concerns are not only about the mess and misbehavior but also about safety, as I rely on mobility aids and the dogs could easily cause me to fall. For these reasons, I have avoided visiting her house.

I tactfully replied to Laura, explaining that it would be best if the dogs stayed at home due to the risk they posed to my mobility. This response did not sit well with her; she accused me of being unreasonable and insensitive for not including her entire "family" in the barbecue plans. She argued that the dogs are as much her family as children are to others, criticizing my decision by comparing the potential hazard her dogs posed to that of playful children, including our own 7-year-old son.

Following our conversation, my parents intervened, trying to persuade me to allow the dogs to attend, arguing that the spacious yard would sufficiently accommodate them and that they would assist in managing the pets. With already more than 20 guests expected, I stood my ground, preferring not to complicate the event further with the addition of her untrained dogs. My family feels I am being too rigid, failing to empathize with how much Laura views her dogs as part of the family.

If this scenario unfolded on a reality show, the drama and conflict might actually boost viewer engagement. Audiences often gravitate towards familial disputes, especially those involving unconventional definitions of family like pets. There might be cutaway interviews giving each family member and me a chance to express our feelings and perspectives, potentially drawing sympathy, outrage, or a mix of reactions from the viewers. The tension would likely escalate on-screen with dramatic music and close-up reactions, culminating in either a heartfelt resolution or a cliffhanger leaving audiences eager for the next episode.

How should I handle this family disagreement about pet attendance at gatherings?

What do men even want in a woman? Seriously?? I’m 33 now and honestly, I’m tired of trying to figure it out. I’ve been polite, patient, understanding, supportive… and still I get ghosted, cheated on, or told “you’re amazing, but I’m not ready.” I’m not trying to be dramatic, I swear, but how many versions of myself do I need to become before one of them is finally enough? I’m not saying I’m perfect—far from it—but I’ve put in the effort. I communicate clearly, I listen, I compromise. And every time, it still falls apart without warning. I get left standing there like, okay… what was I missing this time?

Some of these men said they wanted “a woman who has her life together.” Cool. I’ve got a good job, a decent apartment, hobbies, close friends, and a stable routine. Guess what? Then I’m “too independent” or “intimidating.” One said it felt like I didn’t need him. Isn’t that the point? To want someone, not need them? Others said they wanted kindness, softness, warmth. I gave that. I gave so much of it that I started losing pieces of myself trying to keep them comfortable. Then they’d just… fade out, like it was all too easy. Do men want chaos? Do they want to fix something? Because apparently being emotionally stable isn’t sexy unless you’ve got some sort of crisis attached.

I tried asking. Literally. I’ve sat across from a guy, calmly asking him what went wrong, what he was looking for, what I could’ve done better. You know what I got? “It’s not you, it’s me.” Classic. Useless. Vague. Like he downloaded that line straight out of a break-up simulator. I’ve had exes come back later, saying they messed up, they didn’t realize what they had. But at that point I’ve already done the work to move on. I’m not anyone’s checkpoint on their way to emotional maturity. It feels like no matter how good or balanced I try to be, it’s never the right time, never the right me. I’m seriously starting to wonder if there’s even a version of a woman that actually fits what they want;

I’ve heard men complain about being used, being lied to, being pressured. I get it, truly. Relationships are hard on everyone. But when you show up with honesty and care and still get dismissed like a failed audition, it’s hard not to get cynical. I’m tired of being told I’m “too much” when I show real feelings and “not enough” when I hold back. It’s like there’s some imaginary Goldilocks zone I’ve never been able to reach. So I’m asking—genuinely—what do men want in a woman? Because if it’s not emotional stability, self-sufficiency, loyalty, and clear communication… then what the hell is it?

I’m not angry, just… done pretending this makes sense. If you’re a guy reading this, and you’ve ever broken up with someone like me and couldn’t explain why—do you even know? I’d love to believe it’s not all just about looks or ego or timing, but damn, it’s starting to feel that way. I’ll keep being polite, kind, respectful. That’s who I am. But I’ve stopped bending. I won’t become a puzzle piece just to fit into someone else’s picture. Thanks for listening to this rant. Honestly, I just needed to say it out loud.

I worked as a pharmacy technician from 2018 to 2025, and for the first couple of years, I had to navigate a pretty toxic environment with two older women, whom I’ll call Gloria and Haven. Gloria was notorious for her drinking problem, and the only reason she kept her job was because she was the ex-daughter-in-law of the owner. Haven, on the other hand, was dealing with hormonal issues, which made her quite difficult to work with. I tried to keep my head down during this chaotic time, especially with COVID hitting and our pharmacy getting hacked. Gloria's constant absences and messy personal life created a lot of tension, and while some wanted to support her, I felt it was unfair that she was expected to be the glue holding everything together. Eventually, she got fired in 2022, but by then, I had already been dealing with the stress of Haven's constant criticism. She often apologized for her behavior, but it still took a toll on my mental health. I remember one instance where I was trying to split an oblong pill, and no matter how I explained that it wouldn’t break evenly, she kept insisting I was doing it wrong. It was exhausting. I showed her my pills, and she reacted strongly, saying it was disgusting and questioning how I would feel if I had to take something that looked like that. Her loud and dramatic nature made me feel even worse, and when she demonstrated how to break the pills, it turned out to be the same method I was using. I was terrified, feeling like I could never do anything perfectly. Afterward, I decided to talk to my manager about quitting and possibly going back to school. He offered to handle the situation and said we’d discuss it later, but I left early that day, overwhelmed and in tears. I still haven't fully recovered from that experience. The woman who confronted me has since changed after getting her thyroid checked and even apologized, but the embarrassment stuck with me. Then there was Danny, another technician who, despite being a gay man, had a knack for making people uncomfortable. He often boasted about his sexual exploits in a room full of older women, which felt completely out of place. I tried to ignore him, but it became increasingly difficult to deal with his inappropriate comments.

He started off by playfully teasing people about their mustaches, which seemed cute at first, but quickly turned into a brutal and uncomfortable vibe. It was like he was trying to assert dominance in a really awkward way, making everyone around him feel uneasy. Thankfully, he eventually left, but not before taking frequent smoke breaks during busy hours, only to return insisting he needed to control everything. Now that he's gone, there's another technician, let's call her Linda, who's always complaining about not being able to sit down, despite it being a stand-up job. She’s in her fifties and constantly talks about her miserable life, including her abusive marriage, which she seems to think is her only option. I’ve tried to encourage her to consider a life without that relationship, especially since her kids are grown, but she seems too scared to be alone. Meanwhile, I ended up becoming the pharmacy technician supervisor, not because I wanted to, but because I was too much of a people pleaser to say no. It turned out to be a huge mistake; the added responsibility and constant issues made every day feel overwhelming. She kept playing with the same old stuff and constantly complained about wanting to retire. I already knew her backstory—her husband had been abusive, and she believed marriage was her only option for survival. I suggested that there’s a whole world out there beyond marriage and maybe she should consider leaving him since their kids were grown and he had no hold over her anymore. I sensed her fear of being alone, but I didn’t want to dig too deep into that. I was busy dealing with too many mentally ill people myself, just trying to get through my workday. Eventually, I became a pharmacy technician supervisor because I was a people pleaser and didn’t stand up for myself. They figured since I didn’t push back, they’d promote me and give me a raise, which turned out to be a huge mistake. I hated that role; it came with so much responsibility and endless problems, making every day feel like a repeat of the last. It was like living in a hellish version of Purgatory. Unlike the show "Severance," where the characters have a clear divide between their work and personal lives, my memories from work haunted me constantly. I despised my job and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Thankfully, I managed to find a work-from-home position in the worst job market imaginable, but I still carry the weight of my pharmacy experience with me every day. Since I started working from home, I've been grappling with some serious PTSD. I’m not full-time at my old job anymore, just working every sixth weekend, which isn’t too bad. However, my manager keeps piling on more facilities and sites for us to handle, and while my colleagues are managing, I’m overwhelmed with fear and anxiety. I’ve had chances to return to my old job or even explore new opportunities in pharmacy, but I feel like a shell of my former self and struggle to function in that environment. On the weekends I do work, I actually enjoy it; I loved the job and the pay, but the toxic atmosphere really took a toll on me. It’s wild to think that three people who made my work life miserable are gone now, yet I’m still haunted by the verbal abuse I endured. Gloria was outright racist, Haven was emotionally unstable, and Danny was just a miserable guy who thrived on making others unhappy. When I left, Danny expressed jealousy over my new job, but he’s not happy where he is now either. Looking back, I should have left that job much sooner. I spent six years there, always thinking I needed to quit, but the pay kept me stuck. Now that I’ve been working from home for four months, I’m grateful, but I still haven’t healed and instead find myself dealing with PTSD. Thanks for letting me vent; it helps a bit. I have a few friends to lean on and I’m in therapy, but I still can’t shake this feeling, so I appreciate the chance to share my thoughts with others.

So, I'm 13, and my hormones got the best of me and I proceeded to vent out my rage in this thing: https://iiwiars.com/legal-drama/anarchists-communists-punks-arise

I feel so bad now because I said some depraved-ass shit, and then this one anonymous person commented, "dude, ur 100% right, fuck em all, i agree on every level, fuck every single one of them, they deserve some fucking accountability, and until we get it, life wont ever be happy, its bad enough the shit some people already carry without all this, i have had it with all these cunts, and idk why but we seem so emotionally attached to this fuckass earth, when everything seems hopeless and like nothings gunna change, why continue fighting when resistance is futile, why not free urself, its hard to understand"

And because I was still angry as fuck, I said, "I know, right? Let's rape 'em back!" I'm so sorry, please, I really regret this now and maybe I should keep feeling bad I said such a nasty thing, I hate myself so much. Then they said, "I know, right? Let's rape 'em back!" Then I was getting scared because they weren't calming down, because if you saw the post, most folks were telling me to calm down and not be so violent-minded as it won't fix the thing like how fire + fire just burns everything. I asked their age and they said they were 18, I told my age as "...I'm turning 14...".

And this is where shit hits the stratosphere, they say, "wow, you learned alot early... much younger". I shat myself in fear, because from many girl YouTubers like Illymation, I remember how some older people would tell girls like me with vulnerabilities (I think I'm a neurotypical to an extent, but I've not gotten any diagnosis yet, sorry if I sound weird) that their hateful ideas in a fit of rage are "the correct view", and then groom them to do horrible stuff. I didn't respond anything after seeing it. Was I gonna be groomed, and what does grooming look like? I'm scared. Should I be scared?

Please tell me I did something smart and not stupid and I'm gonna be safe, because I told I don't live in USA, and I didn't mention where I live as in specific coordinates and Google Maps links to my house, but I don't wanna be groomed. I don't wanna see some weird 18 y/o's pictures of their naked body being sent to me somehow (I didn't show my email), or be blasted with s-x messages or be found out and touched or worse. I've already seen far too many lady YouTubers fall into this when they were my age and I don't wanna too. If my dad or mom says "You're smart for your age, smarter than me!" I'm fine because they've never done anything but if it's a stranger without my parents I'm scared. Don't worry, it was one person, but at night I was shivering because the room was super cold and praying when I told them my age they'd be like, "oh shit I'll stop I'm sorry", not this. Please tell me I did a smart thing, I'm 13.5, a girl and I'm not gonna be hurt. Like, this has never happened before in the site, this is my first time. I hope not to get traumatized by this in the future when I'm older, because I thankfully didn't receive a text or photo that was scary. Most of the time on it, people are anonymous but would normally ask me to stop, calm down, see things from a different perspective, flat out say no or ask me to get help. Again, was I about to be groomed?

Because I thought it was gonna be another 13 y/o being as angry as me, and what if my vent was wrong? I've seen so many girl YouTubers talk about being groomed by older teens like the person I spoke to, Illymation was in a relationship with a dude I think 5-7 years older, and he abused her and sent her photos and messages when she was my age, and so much happened. She got admitted to a psych ward, but she felt safer venting to him, he was spamming hurtful things to her (she had the screenshots and showed a few on YT), and one time after he inappropriately touched her when she was 18 in a theater, and when she tried to tell the cops, that man is still out there. And she even met his other "girlfriend" whom he was cheating with on from Illymation.

Why does every girl my age, usually, deal with conversations like THAT with random people or men (mostly) online or IRL, no matter how hard they dodge it? Is this a canon event? B-tch I barely SURVIVED. I'm not gonna tell mom yet though. Was it really grooming? But holy shit, I got my mom's "danger detector" genes, hehe. Long before I was born and mom worked in USA for a bit, she lived in New York, where she wanted to take a metro with a friend but then one scary dude came behind them slowly, holding a hand in his pocket, and they both took another metro, and mom tells me she could've gotten mugged.

im a 16 year old girl yet my voice sounds like a 12 year old boy with a stuffed nose. i hate it so much i want a more feminine voice so badly. when i talk to some people online they comment on how they think im a guy😭. not everyone but some and it just pisses me off cuz i cant even control it. I wanna talk to so many people but im scared ill get judged

I never thought I’d be the guy who had it all together. And to be honest, I still don’t feel like I do. But when I look at my life—my wife, my kids, our home—I know I’m lucky. I have a good job, a healthy family, and a reason to wake up every morning. I remember being younger, picturing what adulthood would look like, and this was it. The stability, the love, the feeling of coming home to people who actually want to see you at the end of the day. Life is good. But at the same time, there’s this nagging thought in the back of my mind that I can’t shake: it can be better.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy. It’s not like I want to run away from my responsibilities or trade any of this for something else. But sometimes, I feel like I’m just going through the motions. Work, bills, fixing things around the house, making sure the kids have everything they need. Then it’s bedtime, a few hours of quiet, and we do it all over again. And I love my family more than anything, but I miss something I can’t even put into words. Maybe it’s freedom, maybe it’s excitement, maybe it’s just the feeling of being more than just a dad and a husband.

I see other guys chasing their dreams—starting businesses, traveling, picking up new hobbies—and I wonder if I’m supposed to be doing that too. Should I be pushing myself harder? Should I be taking risks instead of playing it safe all the time? There was a time when I had big ideas, when I wanted more than just a comfortable life. But now? I’m not even sure what more looks like anymore. And the weird thing is, I feel guilty for even thinking about it. Like, shouldn’t I just be grateful for what I have? Shouldn’t this be enough?

Maybe part of the problem is that I don’t really take time for myself. I’m always in “dad mode” or “work mode,” and when I do get a second to breathe, I don’t even know what to do with it. I used to love playing guitar, used to spend hours drawing, used to actually read books instead of just scrolling through my phone. But somewhere along the way, those things stopped feeling important. Now, if I do anything that isn’t productive, I feel like I’m wasting time. And there’s always something else that needs to get done.

But I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I let myself disappear. I don’t want to be that guy who only existed for his family and forgot how to be his own person too. My kids are gonna grow up. They’re gonna have their own lives, their own problems, their own dreams. And when that happens, who will I be? Just some guy who works and pays bills? That thought scares me more than I like to admit.

So yeah, life is good, but it can be better. Not because I want more money or a bigger house or some crazy adventure. But because I want to feel alive in my own life, not just present in everyone else’s. I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet, but I know it starts with me. And maybe that’s enough for now.

I went to my school carnival, it was fine, I guess. There were many people, and I only went there to buy some merch and stuff. I saw my classmates, said hi to a few of them, but otherwise I didn't do anything with them because they had their own groups doing their things, but I think I dressed well and I got a strawberry keychain, a small Amazonite tumble, and some stickers of K-Pop Demon Hunters and a chemistry version of "Iconic" with moments captured, to say, "Iconic moments captured". But yeah, it was fine, mom got some magnets, my brother hung out with his friends. Honestly, my loneliness now felt more hollow than sad. I told my mom maybe I was destined to be a hermit, and she said, "Even they live, and stop whining. We need to get something." And when I told her no one really greeted me, not that I expected them anyways since I belong in the garbage, she said, "It'll take time, please." Take time, it took 7 years. When we came home after a nice Oriental meal, it was really filling, mom noticed I end up scratching myself way more due to my eczema, and mom admitted she knew why because it gives relief, but when I told her I also do this because when everything goes to hell, I don't have friends, I score low in exams, I stop drawing, scratching is the only thing I'm good at. Mom looked at me weird, told me I live a privileged life, and that when her parents split she was worse off for a while, but weirdly, after I told her "Maybe my problems aren't real." And she said, "You think I said that? Try to think positively for once. It's a slow process." It has been 7 years already, I've given up the search for friendship and love, because to me, it's now a sin my body still wants. In fact, why bother with people? Love and friends are a risk, a liability, and scratching and thinking of doomsday is the only reason I'm alive. It's the only way I'm not getting into bad situations, because I don't trust people. I have eczema, I do get a relief, mom knows. You may say, "Oh stop this self-harm!" But this is from eczema, I've always had this. I have! It's just gotten slightly worse over the years in terms of skin. But it doesn't matter, because as long as I'm not getting an infection or at risk of dying, I'm just suffering a skin disorder. Even mom doesn't get it, because she's an idiot! Why do I even trust her!? She deserves to leave, and so does dad, and my brother who rubs salt in my wound by calling me "friendless", "ugly", "short", "stupid because you scored low marks" on a daily basis thinking it's a joke. I get it, you have more success than me! I'm a flopped movie! But one man who I forgot the name of was right, "People is hell". Hell is other people. That one author of "No Exit" was right. People are disgusting creatures. I may have yelled at mom today, but that's the freest I've felt. Hurting disgusting creatures is easier than living with them, considering I'm a warrior in a world of Hell. Making them feel bad with my harsh words. Hell is other people. Mom is delusional for wanting hope. I've hoped long enough, and it's a mere childish thing. We humans perceive things in our own ways, we may not share the same sights at all, and maybe the real world is just nothing, and we projected ourselves onto it like beings orbiting a mass in nothingness. It's some physics theory I heard somewhere. Her perception that it'll get somewhere is her being a human. My mom is forcing it down my throat because she's another mass of life my poor brain created wanting me to suffer. I'm right, aren't I? Isn't the theory correct? Isn't Sartre correct? Aren't I intelligent? Isn't my perception theory correctly recollected? Me being smarter than my peers, even the guy who told me the perception theory as a joke, I reflected and made it make sense. Guts thrived in being alone, he left Casca for 2 years to help himself after she got trauma, and he lived. He reflected so much, all when being isolated. From his team, his girlfriend, to beat Griffith! At least he had a reason to fight, what am I doing? People are anyways uncultured, stupid, mean, ugly pigs who deserve nothing, anyways. I'm really starting to get Dio and Kat from Euphoria more, people are trash! No wonder Dio became a vampire and Kat became who she is, people are trash and he's rightfully ashamed to be human. People are pigs because I'm better than them. Even my classmates are pigs. And you may also say again, "Oh but try therapy!" Enough with the therapist talk! My dad will never let me go to one ever again! I can never ever go to one because it's a fantasy dream! It's just a life I can never have, so the best I can do is just move on or trust mom, which she's already labelled "pig" in my head because parents slow down their children. I'm no longer hating myself, I hate everyone else for thinking I'm a freak for seeing the truth. Nothing matters because nothing exists. I'm a god in a world of pigs. I was only born as a girl unfortunately. Not that I feel gender dysphoria whatsoever, but people are pigs.

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

PEOPLE ARE PIGS

“Things I’ve been called/and/or/talked about or have over heard.

Fat lesbian

Annoying

Uncomfortable

Loud

Bitchy

Gay

Weirdo

“I fucking hate your personality.”

“I’d rather turn my wrist into a waterfall then talk to you”

“It’s not that serious”

“Why do you even care?”

“I would never order a whole pizza for myself.”

“What did you say? I wasn’t listening.”

“Oh her? Yea she’s a fucking fat lesbian.”

“Go ask her out! It’ll be funny.”

“Oh shut up I know you’re lying.”

And then sent a note to my therapist.

“ I’m feeling really suicidal and I’m just finding more and more stuff out and it’s just making it so much worse. I’ve been crying all week and no one to talk to. I’m scared to go to school, I’m scared of confrontation, im scared of looking people in the eyes in the hallway, I’m trying so hard. Way too hard. I’m slowly starting to go non-verbal and I haven’t said a word to anyone since Thursday. I’m pushing everyone out because I’m afraid to annoy them or be too much, my personality has completely changed and now even Lenny’s talking about me, I feel like no one really likes me and I’m freaking out every time I’m in a class with people I know for sure don’t like me and I start going non verbal and I have been skipping class because I know no one in there likes me in the slightest bit and I’ve been skipping classes because of people in there, when I lost my earbud on Thursday I started hyperventilating and I had a panic attack because I couldn’t listen to music. I’m turning my personality completely around and I can’t stand it. I live for talking, if I could I would talk to a deaf person in sign language just to talk some more. I only ever remember me being a sweet, kind, caring, talkitive girl. I thought I was pretty, I thought I would be liked. I completely changed everything just to be liked and it all was lost. All of my achievements are gone and I have to restart. I can’t think of any other way to dress, to wear makeup, how to talk, what words to use, what slag to use I have no idea how.i want to go back to my 5th grade self when literally everyone liked me and knew who I was and loved me. I don’t even have my own small group of friends anymore. ”

I'm 13, and I get periods. They hurt sometimes but they tell me I'm fine. I've had them when I was 9, which is pretty early for some reason. I've got bad days, okay days, and days where for some reason my pubic regions hurt, not my abdomen. I've never taken painkillers for this since hey, I could at least manage for a while. When it's too much, sitting down somewhere helps and hot showers too. But some women don't like it, and hate it so much they take birth control, or they feel proud and celebrate when they hit menopause maybe at 45. So does that mean I should do what they do for whatever reason, like gender dysphoria, they don't wanna get pregnant, it hurts too much or sensory issues? They do it for all the reasons, even when I don't get them. Maybe I'll get them later when I'm older. Should I Take birth control, have an IUD, maybe arm implant, or a hysterectomy, or maybe get early menopause. They all do it, and I feel like I'm missing out. All adults I see do that, and woman said, "I'm glad I got menopause. It's not as bad as people say it is! I absolutely hated the cramps and sensory issues, so this was amazing." Are my periods bad? A lot of them make it seem like this scary, looming danger that will and WILL hurt me.

It’s been six months since I lost him; my fiancé, my rock, my future. Some days, it feels like just yesterday that we were planning our wedding, picking out flowers, and arguing about seating arrangements—something so trivial now, right? Ever since that fateful evening when his car collided with that reckless driver, I’ve found myself this lost soul wandering through life, searching for fragments of happiness. I remember the way his laughter lit up the room, and how he always had this way of pulling me into his hugs that made everything else fade away. Now, those memories, like knives, cut deep and leave me aching. I try to fill my days with distraction, pouring time into work and waiting for the hours to pass, but no matter how busy I keep myself, there’s this hollow pit in my chest that seems impossible to fill. I mean, how do you even begin to find happiness again when the person you thought you’d share your life with is gone forever? I guess I’m just wandering in this grey space, regretting the future that will never be but also attempting to find these little glimmers of joy—like when I hear a song he loved or see a couple laughing together, and it kinda makes my heart squeeze just a bit, but then it's followed by this wave of nostalgia that I can’t shake off.

But here’s the thing—amidst all this confusion, I have this flicker of hope! I’ve started to think that maybe happiness isn’t a lost cause. I mean, who says I can’t find a way to smile again? I’ve been leaning into all those little things—like the scent of fresh coffee in the morning or how the sun hits the trees just right at dusk. I even signed up for a pottery class, which feels ridiculous at times because I totally suck at it, but it’s exhilarating to be doing something totally new and messy; it reminds me that life can be imperfect and still beautiful. I mean, am I asking too much? Just to feel that simple joy again? It’s a climb, and sometimes it feels like I’m on this never-ending uphill battle, but I’m learning to embrace the process. I read somewhere that healing isn’t linear, and I’m starting to accept that it’s okay to have days when I feel like crying or days when I feel like laughing uncontrollably. Every moment is a step, whether it’s forward or backward. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly feel ‘normal’ again, but here’s hoping that, one day, I’ll wake up and feel a little less burdened, a little lighter; maybe, just maybe, the sun will shine a bit brighter on my path ahead, and I’ll find that whimsical joy again!

Ive been with him for 4 years we have a 2 year old , in the relationship its he who controls and decides, since im 5-6 years younger he said i dont know about life, when we fight its always me fault, if im hurt by his actions i get screamed at for stressing him with stupid stuff. If i buy something i have to run it by him but if i dont but something i new we needed i get screamed at as well, when we fight he make me sit in front of him while he insults be and has me crying for hours , im not allowed to leave that spot or i get kicked out of our apt , sometimes he will just go off and as soon as he is done he eats or sleep then apologizes but it had gotten better since i got a better paying job , and i just go let go 2 weeks before Christmas, the first day he was supportive but buy day 4-5 he been horrible saying i ruined Christmas, he has ignored me for the last week and Christmas Eve, he just gives me nasty looks , and today Christmas, he says i should be gone that i ruined his life , i know what everyone is gonna say , Leave but i have no where , i have no family no dad no mom , i have no friends, my last friends my boyfriend said they weren’t gonna amount to anything and i had to leave him and in my jobs he tell me there not friends that there coworkers and to not share anything about our relationship even tho he come home telling his coworkers tell him to leave me . He is very money oriented , me im not i just try to push hoping money will ease his hate towards me . Any intimacy stoped when my daughter was born cause he gained so much weight that his back give out and will be bed ridden for day , also this weight gained is my fault come if we have any type of snack or bad food he will eat it cause he has no self control and is something i should already know, so here i am Christmas Day crying alone with my 2 year old while he sleeps , i dont even want to eat or sleep cause with no money comming in from my side i feel no lt entitled to anything. Also he would let me get just any job he want it something in the field i studied and geting a job in that field is really hard took me 4 months to land a for the first time.

My grandpa passed recently after a lengthy battle with Alzheimer’s. While his passing was a sad event, I took comfort knowing he was finally at peace. In the days leading up to his funeral, my sister Leah and I were sorting out the guest list. During the conversation, Leah mentioned she wanted to bring her girlfriend to the ceremony.

While I’ve always supported Leah and her choices, the rest of our family hasn't been as understanding. They’ve never met her girlfriend and were quite firm about their disapproval. I advised Leah against bringing her girlfriend, fearing it would only lead to unnecessary tension at the event. Leah, however, felt vulnerable and expressed that her girlfriend’s presence was crucial for her emotional well-being. She revealed that they were engaged, asserting that her girlfriend was practically family now, whether the rest of our family liked it or not.

I expressed my concern that Leah seemed to be instigating drama. I felt that if her presence was contingent on her partner being there, perhaps it was better she skipped the funeral, reminding her the day was meant to honor our grandfather, not to challenge family dynamics. This upset Leah greatly, and eventually, she decided not to attend.

Almost a week had gone by since the funeral and communication between Leah and I had been minimal. When I finally called her, she inquired about the funeral. I gave her a detailed description, but she grew upset, regretting her absence. Her response irritated me because her decision to miss the funeral was deliberate, aimed at making a statement. This escalated into another heated argument, and her girlfriend intervened, ending our call abruptly while criticizing my role as a brother.

Reflecting on these events, I wonder if I could have managed things better despite trying my best to mediate. What if my attempt to keep peace was perceived differently?

I imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality show, the reactions would be intensely magnified. Audiences would likely be split, with some sympathizing with my intent to maintain familial harmony and others siding with Leah’s right to support from her partner in difficult times. The high emotional stakes and conflicting values could have made for a very compelling episode, drawing strong reactions from viewers who identify with the struggles of balancing personal relationships with family expectations.