Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I wil ltry to be short and clear :)

Is it wrong that I'm thinking of skipping my family's upcoming trip to Europe? Originally, I was on board when the idea came up, but after giving it some thought, I'm leaning towards not going. I prefer traveling with my fiancee, especially since we've discussed taking a significant trip together. Although I grew up traveling with my family almost every year until I was about 22, those experiences were mostly within the United States or North America, featuring low-key vacations with a few adventurous activities thrown in. Since everyone in my family is working full-time, our trips together have become quite infrequent.

The issue is, one of my parents is likely to take my refusal pretty hard. It could become a lingering topic of conversation and might even cause ongoing tension. While I cherish the bond I share with my family, I feel that at this point in my life, I’d rather explore new places with my fiancee. Am I being unreasonable?

Imagine if this scenario were to unfold on a reality TV show. How would the viewers react? Likely, there’d be a mix of support for my desire to travel with my fiancee, and sympathy for my family, particularly the parent who feels hurt by my decision. The dramatic element of family discord might even become a focal point of an episode, bringing its own twists and viewer engagement.

I used to be a happy and loving person, always smiling, always happy to work my job. But ever since gambling was introduced to my life, all of that Changed. Work has been getting hard to do, I hate seeing other people, I hate doing anything. I just want to die.

I've lost faith in God, i've lost faith in friendship, relationships, even parents. Because nothing has ever helped me.

I Know it's mostly my fault, I don't blame anyone or anything. But I'm sick of living this way.

someone please, I want to stop, Please.

I've been in a constant state of fight or flight, honestly I've been in crisis, since the election. I'm disabled, trans and intersex, other flavors of 'undesirable' in the eyes of the government. I was close to taking my life and writing hotlines pretty much everyday sobbing my eyes out. My psychiatrist said if I refused to be hospitalized (I did) then we were down to Spravato and Electroconvulsive Therapy... Yes, she basically said the only solution was nasal spray ketamine or electroshock. I wish I was joking. I'm allergic to so much that these three things were my only option left. Are my only option, but I'm just done. No. I refuse it all.

There's a decent chance ALL healthcare might be taken away from me soon anyhow.

I decided to give Spravato a try, I was really, really hoping it would work. It didn't. My blood pressure shot up so high I almost had to go to the ER, I couldn't stop panicking and crying, I almost threw up multiple times. I am familiar with dissociation, it's a horrendous feeling I get sadly often, but I can tell the... Cycle of it? I suppose? As in, even when dissociating or having derealization, I can tell when it's at it's worst and when it's staring to wane. With Spravato, not so, it was two hours of being at the worst part of all my dissociative episodes and panic attacks at once with no reprieve. Closing my eyes made it worse, I couldn't even try to sleep to get through it, I had so many nurses coming in and out. A random man who was there also getting Spravato himself came in and tried to talk me and my mother through it and reassure us that sometimes that that even still happened to him. I can remember the talking, but it's more like I'm looking back on a movie I watched, not something I witnessed. All that felt like it was me in that moment was the fear. Nausea. My heart wanting to break through my ribcage, the pain of each heartbeat, rattling in my brain of memories and thoughts both that I couldn't differentiate among other things. It was just too much.

Finally, finally after two hours it started to let up, they took my blood pressure and since it wasn't at a concerning level (it was not normal still but not medically concerning? I think?) I was allowed to come home. I almost threw up multiple times on the ride home.

I was essentially sedated for three or four days after, too tired to tell what I was feeling but knowing I wasn't happy or okay, just too tired to cry or panic anymore. My heart kept beating funny off and on, though, I kept getting chest pain off and on. It's still happening off and on and it's been a few weeks. I'm scared it permanently damaged my heart, I already have so much going on, I can't do it.

All therapeutic effects it had are gone, all the fear and grief and dread and pain are back in full force, my family is trying to convince me to try it again and I refuse. My mother told me, essentially, she liked me better sedated. My pain, my fear for my life under this regime in America with so much being taken away from me (after being attacked just getting groceries two weeks after the election by the way), is an inconvenience so I need to just "be normal."

I can't help but wonder if there's hidden meaning behind "be normal." I could get into the why, I could get into my whole life story leading up to this of medical malpractice, but I won't. It's too much. There's so much I need and want to say but what's even the point?

I suppose I'll end this with something that happened a few days ago that's still hurting me, that was my reason to coming to this site again. I still don't really know how it works, if you can see my other post, but it's pertinent to this if you can. I tried one more time, one more time to reach out to someone to help me, give me help feasible for me with all of my limitations. Admittedly, getting a bit angry, because all the "advice" given even when I explained my situation was things I couldn't do. I tried explaining again, and it was turned back on me. I'm apparently a fascist for saying poor, disabled, non-white and intersex people are being left out of people's consideration when giving queer (especially trans) Americans help or instructions to help themselves. I was apparently posting "fascist bait" and somehow I'm also a Nazi? I don't even know. All I said was that I needed help, I just needed some steps given to me to take to try and get myself safe, to a better place. Then, got frustrated, and said their advice wasn't even advice for me or many others in my situation. It felt like dismissal and a "welp not my problem- figure it out!" and I said so. I said that people need to stop leaving the most vulnerable of the lgbtqia2p community in the dust and this girl got four other people to gang up on me.

I give up. I deleted all social media, I feel hopeless but won't write Trevor or 988, no one wants to help me. No one who can will, because I'm "not valuable" enough. Not to another country, not even to a blue state, nothing at all. I need too much help, have too many targets on my back, and have the nerve to point out that people are pulling the ladder up behind them once they get theirs and seeing certain parts of the community in the dust. Even some trans people are, mainly those of us that are poor and or disabled, intersex and or non-white. Of which I am all of.

And now I sit here alone, sad, thinking about everything and wishing I could close my eyes and wake up anybody else tomorrow. Wake up and find out this was all just a bad dream.

No, I'm not going to do anything to myself, I'm just so tired. If you can see people's past posts on here, again, what I said before sort of gives more context but even with both these two posts it's not everything going on with me.

Goodnight, I guess.

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.

The birthday celebration I had planned for my wife Jennifer on Friday was supposed to be a joyous occasion. I always strive for her gifts to be a surprise, which can be a challenge since Jennifer tends to open every Amazon package that arrives, sometimes spoiling the surprise if it's her gift. This year, I thought I'd outsmart the situation.

You see, my sister Laura and Jennifer have always had a rocky relationship, primarily due to differing worldviews and values. Their conflicts mostly stem from Laura's past requests for financial help, which doesn't sit well with Jennifer. Though I manage our finances separately, lending money to Laura occasionally from my personal account — never from the joint one Jennifer and I share — and she has always been diligent about repayment.

To avoid any accidental gift reveal this year, I decided to have Jennifer’s birthday present sent to Laura's place. I planned to pick it up the day before the big celebration. However, things went south quickly when Laura texted to confirm the packages had arrived, and Jennifer saw the notification pop up on my phone.

Immediately, Jennifer assumed that I was financially helping Laura again and voiced her frustration, labeling my sister as someone who relies too much on others and never manages her affairs well. This led to a heated argument between us, during which I blurted out that the packages were actually her birthday gifts, which only served to escalate the conflict. In my frustration, I declared that I would return the gifts and cancel her birthday dinner.

The following argument only grew more intense, and I followed through with calling off the plans and had Laura send back the gifts. Jennifer was livid, calling me a jerk, declaring the whole debacle my fault. This has left me questioning whether I mishandled things or if I was right in standing my ground.

Now, imagine if this whole scenario played out on a reality TV show. The cameras capturing every raw emotion and angry word exchanged could have potentially swayed public opinion - either garnering sympathy for my attempt at a thoughtful surprise or painting me as the villain in the drama of a soured relationship with my sister being dragged into the frame. The very essence of our private conflict morphed into entertainment for others could shift perceptions drastically, based solely on editing and presentation.

Did I act correctly in this scenario???

I feel like I’ve been asking myself this question forever: what does sexual attraction feel like? People talk about it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s just there, obvious and unavoidable. But for me, it’s never been that way. I hear my friends talk about how “hot” someone is, how they’d love to get in bed with them, how their brain just goes there automatically. And I sit there, nodding along, pretending I get it, but I don’t. Like, I get attraction—I can look at someone and think they’re beautiful, handsome, interesting. I can even feel connected to someone emotionally, like I want to be close to them, to spend time with them, to be something with them. But that pull people describe, that physical craving, that feeling of just wanting someone in that way? I don’t think I’ve ever had that. And I don’t know if that’s normal, if I just haven’t met the right person yet, or if maybe… I’m just wired differently.

I’ve been reading a lot about asexuality lately, and part of me feels like it explains everything. But another part of me is terrified to accept it, because what if I’m wrong? What if I just haven’t unlocked that part of myself yet? What if I’m just a late bloomer and one day it’ll all make sense? I don’t want to label myself too soon and then realize later that I do feel it, that I just hadn’t experienced it yet. But at the same time, how long am I supposed to wait? How long do I keep pretending I understand something that, for me, has never been real? And then there’s the fear of what that means for my future. If I am asexual, does that mean I’ll never find love? Will people see me as broken? Will I always feel like I’m missing some huge, important part of being human? It’s overwhelming. I don’t have the answers, and I don’t know when—or if—I ever will. All I know is that I don’t feel the way most people seem to. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s just who I am. But right now? Right now, I just wish I knew for sure... 😥

My biggest mistake was telling my very superstitious parents that I have Sleep paralysis. Now I'm not allowed to sleep alone. For context I'm 19 and share a room with my sister. It's a fairly big room and i don't mind sharing. But now my sister has decided that she will sleep in our parents room because it's closer to charging point. I want to sleep in my room because who would choose to sleep on thin mattress while a perfectly fine bed is right there in next room. I told my parents that I will sleep in my room and they refused. I don't know what kind of monster or evil spirits they think will attack me if I ever slept alone but the only thing i know is that I'm getting back pain from sleeping on floor and i want privacy atleast at night. I don't know what to do

So I am a 12th grade student. I am 17 and my bf is 19. He was my senior. And everyone in my school are jealous of my relationship. Our receptionist told my mom that I am going out with him. My mom didn't believe her much but one day she doubted that I may have something, so they unlocked my phone with my fingerprint when I was sleeping and checked everything. The chats, the photos. It became a big issue pretty soon and both our families talked and asked us to end it. Their main problem was not our age but that we belonged to different castes. Soon he got sent to a hostel and I stayed back in our city as I am still in my highschool. Everytime I go out, my parents doubt that I may meet someone, not him, but maybe someone else. As if I am a slut who maintains a new guy every month. And the girl who got rejected by my bf along with her chapri gang started spreading rumours that me and him slept together. That bitch even told my teachers the same. And damaged my reputation. I got sick and she wished I would die. And now she comes showing false concern. And from the moment this issue happened, I lost interest in my studies and basically everything. From straight A's student to someone who barely gets pass marks. Boards are 10 days away and all I want to do is cry and sleep, or die. The torture is just too much

if i was your daughter, what would you say so that she doesn't keep on thinking of self-harming more than she has so far and give up on life? i'm starving for someone's love and it doesn't matter if i sound overly desperate anymore. pls?

This is probably going to be my final post anyway let me get into it.( for my context check my last post) Currently I’m just in the idgaf stage Ive truly lost pretty much lost a lot of hope almost all of it. I’m also just at the point where I don’t care to get better, I don’t want to get better, and I don’t want better for myself. I’m considering distancing myself from everyone(including friends,family, even teachers) and potentially cut off people as a whole. I’m also going to refrain from making new friends and telling people how I feel period it’s no one’s business. Honestly my plan going forward Is to just turn myself in and do my time and then after I finish my time I’ll kill myself. And my goal for being an astronomer is most likely dead at this point I’ll probably be dead before then and not do I really want to put in the effort to achieve it and improve my math skills so basically I’ve given up on it and to be honest it’s upsetting to think about. I’m also pretty apathetic and resistant to the idea of therapy now I’ve accepted that I don’t want to get better and it would be a waste of money for my family members to even pay for it because I wouldn’t cooperate and I would be hard to work with and it would also be a waste of time for the therapist. Anyway that’s all I wanted to say and I appreciate those who gave me support on my last post.

[Translated from Tagalog. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

Fuck, I don’t want this anymore, I’m so fucking tired. I’m already super stressed and exhausted with everything that’s happening here at home and at school. I’m so pressured and all because of my entrance exams that are getting closer, and I’m always reviewing, always hungry, always with nothing to eat—fuck—because my parents have no idea how to handle their money, especially my dad. And he even got hospitalized. Fuck, I know that’s not his fault, but fuck—he said he was going to resign from his company because the workplace is already so toxic and he’s always stressed and overworked there, but he still stayed.

He ghosted me and my family here for almost one month already. We don’t have anything left to pay the bills and loans, fuck that shit. It’s always just debts after debts, and then it turns out he can’t even pay them. He acts like he’s rich, with all these debts he has to pay, and then he makes promises to me like it’s cool—but it’s not. It hurts so much because every promise you made to me—on my birthday, I didn’t even receive a single “happy birthday” from you. Fucking hell.

Are you that ashamed of me already? You should be, fuck, but why would you even ghost us?? What you did was wrong. You should’ve just apologized instead of not talking to us, especially to me. Fuck. And now what? Always hungry. They keep saying I need to understand the situation—fuck??? Am I always the one who has to understand?? Haven’t you learned your lessons from before, when it’s always debts, enjoy now then starve later??? Fuck, it’s always like this.

Good thing I’m still studying hard. I even graduated with high honors. I’m the one searching for whatever universities and scholarships I can apply to. I already pity myself. I’m sick too, you know. There’s not even a cure yet, fuck. You might as well just kill me, fuck. When are you going to change? When will you all learn your fucking lessons? It’s always like this, always, fucking hell.

And now you’re saying you’re tired? Yeah, people get tired—but I’ve been tired of you for a long time already. Did I complain? Did I scream at you? Did I say awful words to you? No. But you? You did all of that to me just because you were tired, fucking hell. Then you shouldn’t have had children in the first place if you couldn’t even support us. Fuck. And then you make us experience and feel what poverty is like. You already went through hardship yourselves—why repeat it again? And then it’s like it’s our fault that we’re alive?? Fuck.

I’ve been tired for so long already. That’s why I ended up having a severe illness with no cure, hahaha. I was so depressed, but you didn’t even know that. I’m so fucking tired. I’m hungry. I want to rest. I’m dizzy. I was supposed to review for my exams tomorrow, and I ended up writing this fucking vent because you were screaming at me without knowing that that was literally my last straw. I’m tired, sleep-deprived, can’t eat properly, hungry. And then you still scream at me and say horrible things?? Fuck.

2021. Everyone's locked up inside. Online classes and texts the only way i could spend any sort of time with my friends. So our social studies teacher decided to give us some homework. A group project. yuck.

I got assigned to a group of ppl i hadn't ever spoken to. Except for this one guy. He was this kid who'd joined our school in 5th grade and we'd spoken a couple of times. So we were talking about the project and soon drifted off to other things. We started texting each other every other day and things were fine. Then our school decided it was time to get kids back in their classrooms.

So after nearly half a year of texting i finally got to talk to him in person. Every now and then I'd look over to see what he was doing and well um. Turns out he was already looking at me. He tried to cover up for the fact that he was staring (and failed miserably) and somehow, it gave me butterflies .

That went on for a few weeks and he asked me if I liked anyone. And me being the idiot i am decided i was too scared to tell him bc i was so sure he didnt like me back and told him i liked his best friend (kmn). But thankfully he wasn't that stupid <3.

So just like that, we started dating. Just to give you a picture, he was tall, really cute, played basket ball and loved math (such a nerd). Our love language was basically staring at each other from across the classroom, and drawing infinities on our wrists (those meant more to me than hearts).

Our school was very conservative so holding hands under the desk was the craziest thing we could do. We never got to hug let alone kiss but holding his hand made me feel like i was flying. With most Indian parents, the only high school romance you could have was with your text books so we had to keep it a secret from them too.

Fast forward to valentine's day. Typical day except before leaving he told me to check my bag. I got home to find a pack of Hershey's kisses.

We used to lend each other books to read and slip letters between the pages. It was really cute :'>.

We were happy. I was thoroughly in love with this guy. It felt too good to be true.

And suddenly something broke. He became cold and distant. We didn't speak as much as we used to. I was worried sick and i didn't know how to help. When we finally sat down to have a talk he said it was family stuff that he couldn't talk to me about just yet, and i felt really guilty for not being understanding about his silence. But it had hurt a lot...

Few weeks later. It's sports day at school. He's talking to who i thought was my best friend ( more on that another time). He said he needed to talk so we went to a corner and he was nearly in tears. He started apologizing frantically. I assumed he was apologizing for not talking to me for so long...but it was something much worse.

He said he needed to breakup with me. NEEDED to.

In that moment, everything inside me went numb. I tried to say something but i choked on my own words. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry but there were too many people around. So i walked away.

I swore i wouldn't let myself cry there because i knew if i started i wouldn't stop. So i smiled and smiled and smiled. But I couldn't just leave like that now, could I?

It took everything in me to go back to him on the stairs. He asked me sit. So i asked him why he needed to break up with me and he said he wasn't able to focus on his studies. I was so naive I took his word for it. Only to find out 3 whole years later that the real reason was that it was too much for him. I'd been overwhelming this guy and hadn't even realized. I still don't know what I'd done to make him feel so pressurized....

Even after the break up I did the stupidest things. I hit a rebound with his friend and lied about it. He found out and of course he couldn't forgive me, I carried that guilt around for a year and a half only to realize that it didn't matter anymore. He was happy now. What more could i ask for? (sorry for making it so cheese but it is what it is...<3)

I’m 49 years old, female, and I’m honestly fing tired of feeling like I’m carrying a boulder on my shoulders every fing day; let’s just say it loud and clear — anxiety sucks. every fing breath I take, every decision I make, every conversation I have — it’s like a tiny voice is nagging in the back of my mind telling me I’m screwing everything up. “what if they hate you? what if you say the wrong thing? what if you fail?” it’s exhausting. I’ve read every fing book, listened to every self-help podcast, tried meditation, journaling, therapy, meds — the whole f***ing industry is built on telling people like me to “breathe deeply and let it go,” but tell me, how the hell do you let go of something that’s wired into your goddamn brain? anxiety doesn’t listen to breathing techniques! I mean, ffs, you think I wouldn’t have figured that out by now?

I’ve been trying to build a non-anxious life, whatever the hell that means. moving to a quieter neighborhood, changing jobs to reduce stress — hell, I even got a fing cat to “calm me down” (spoiler alert: she’s a furry little terrorist). but guess what? the anxiety is still there. some mornings, I wake up and feel like I can’t breathe, like my chest is caving in, and no amount of herbal tea or “positive affirmations” makes it stop. it’s easy for people to say, “just stop worrying,” but have you ever tried to just stop worrying? it’s like telling a person with asthma to “just breathe” — yeah, sure, thanks for the tip! it’s frustrating to constantly feel like you’re broken, like you’re the problem; it’s fing unfair. how much of it is even in my control, huh?

the thing is, I’ve been to therapy (multiple times, different therapists), and every time I leave feeling like I’m just a fing project for them to fix. “try this exercise,” they say. “keep a journal,” they suggest. “catch your negative thoughts,” they advise. but what if I don’t want to spend every goddamn day “catching thoughts”? what if I just want to live without constantly analyzing myself to death? it’s not that I’m against therapy — I know it helps, I’m not an idiot — but the whole process sometimes feels like a job I didn’t apply for; a job with no pay and no fing days off. am I just supposed to keep “working on myself” until I die? because that’s how it feels. I’m exhausted from always trying to “manage” something that won’t leave me the hell alone.

and here’s the kicker — people always assume that if you’re anxious, you’re weak. that you can’t handle stress, that you’re not resilient enough, that you’re somehow “less than.” well, f*** that. I’ve raised two kids while dealing with this crap, held down a career, and kept a house running — tell me that’s not resilient! but yeah, I’ll admit it: I’m still struggling. I still cry in the shower sometimes, I still overthink every damn thing, and I still wake up some days feeling like the world is caving in. so what? does that make me a failure? or does it make me human? because, let’s be real here — who the hell isn’t struggling? we just don’t talk about it. we put on our “I’m fine” masks and go through the motions. but sometimes I want to rip that mask off and scream, “I’m not f***ing fine!” do you get it? do you know what that feels like? or is it just me?

When I was a kid I was really good friends with my siblings, we all had good fun together. Well until one day in the summer. Me and my younger sister were playing a game of tag inside. And note of this: even though I was young I had and still have a porn addiction. So me and my sister were on my bed, tired from playing around. And I thought it would be a good idea take advantage of the situation. So I requested her to unclothe herself, and she did. So I continued to touch her cat with my finger, even going down to lick it.

I did end up getting caught afterwards, and the police did get involved; but I didn't go to jail or anything because of my age. And during that time I felt sick, I felt horrible. So I suppressed my feelings and forgot about it, only remembering it like 3 times a year or so.

Now, I'm 18 and I completely forgot about my incident; but one of my sisters friends met someone I knew. Telling he about what I did back then. He texted me about it yesterday, and of course I lied, I'm still in school. But the problem isn't that I lied, the problem is the flow of emotions coming back to me. I feel so disgusting, why did I do that, what is wrong with me. I'm scared he'll find out the truth, because I know that what I did was really bad, and I know that the public will think the same.

I've changed, I know I have, and I think my family knows that as well. But I cant help but feel like a monster, I wasn't to change the past.

I tried looking as this being a wakeup call by a god or something, like some higher being telling me to change my ways. But all I can think about is the future, I don't think I'll ever talk to my family again when I move just out of guilt.

Thanks for reading this.

So my ex and I broke up recently. It was his decision, and I thought it was amicable enough - I had hopes he didn't feel he could meet, and he felt overwhelmed by how much I can be sometimes (I do not dispute this, I'm A Lot.), and so while it hurt because I really thought we were getting through the rough patch, it was the right move to just be friends.

The thing is, he's not really acting like a friend now, and the way it's going I'm not entirely sure that's even truthfully what he wants.

He's always been kind of rude - he's socially awkward by his very nature and not at all an emotional guy - I'm very used to him being somewhat ignorant of the feelings of others, that's normal. He's not diagnosed autistic but most people he comes into contact with have their suspicions on him being on the spectrum. (This is not a bad thing or a sweeping armchair diagnosis, our whole friendgroup is autistic so it would not be a surprise and would of course be an explanation for his overall demeanor, but not an excuse for the behaviour that follows.)

Now though, it's not just 'socially awkward guy can be misconstrued as ruder than he intends to be', it's targeted. and usually targeted at me.

I tried to brush it off as me just being oversensitive in the aftermath of the breakup, because I know I can be hysterical and overdramatic, but it's become obvious in the week or so that it goes on that I'm not imagining it - he's being downright mean. And I never thought he was mean.

So I tried reaching out to him about it - I thought maybe he was being so odd because it was hurting him too and he wanted to talk about it, or he wanted to avoid giving me false hope by being deliberately meaner than usual for a bit, or maybe he was just enjoying the freedom from a relationship that he seems to think was controlling. All of the above would have been fine and I would have, to an extent, understood if any of those were his reasoning, but he denied acting out of character at all - told me that he'd be saying everything he's said for the past week with or without the circumstances.

I don't think that's true, because a lot of it seemed to come out of nowhere with no prompting from any outside source (so not a badly landed punchline to something else) and he's famously stoic and private to the point of paranoia, but I accepted it - it isn't my place to push him on that, if he says he's fine and he thinks it's normal then whatever, I suppose it must be for him.

Reaching out seemed to make it worse - today he decided to go vaguepost in a shared server about how people who talk about having a certain opinion are annoying - down to my exact wording of said opinion. This would not be so damning, if there were others in his group/life that had the same opinion. As it stands, it's only me, and everybody in our group knows that. So really, he's just publicly calling me annoying for no real reason, somewhere he knows I will see it.

I know I said he can be ignorant of the feelings of others, but I refuse to believe that as an incredibly smart grown man, it hasn't registered to him that if you insult someone, it's going to hurt their feelings. There is a huge difference between "being unable to read the room and making people uncomfortable by mistake" and "being unaware that knowingly insulting a friend is bad".

I've tried to be civil about it all.

I didn't blow up at him for breaking up with me knowing I was at work at the time, because I asked first and said I wouldn't break down, so that's on me.

I haven't gone and blamed him for the part where I got so upset and stressed about it all that I got physically sick, because it's not like he wanted that to happen to me either.

I wanted to comfort my friend if he was struggling, and I didn't want to make it a big deal that we broke up, and I didn't want to really bring it up at all, because I know he's bad with emotional stuff and I figured he'd like to just move right along, which was fine by me if it helped him.

It just feels like I've sacrificed and sacrificed and sacrificed to try and not blow up our lives over this, and I've denied myself the chance to actually grieve because it would inconvenience him, and all he can think to do is just...rub salt in the wound wherever possible and assume the worst of me at every turn.

And nobody else seems to notice beyond 'feeling like they missed something' how mean he's been lately, except for my one friend who has never really liked him all that much in the first place.

And that makes me wonder if this is actually new, or if this is just the rose glasses breaking - was he just always this awful, and I never saw it because I loved him?? Has anyone else had this sort of jekyll-hyde turn happen?