Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

So basically, I'm in online class due to having this heart problem that's called VSD (ventricular septal defect), and it makes me lose my breath easily, and I get palpitations every time I run. So there's no hope of actually going to face-to-face schools due to walking long hallways and going up stairs. And there's barely anyone in my online class that I can be friends with. It makes me feel a little lonely, and I'm an introvert. But just because of the sole reason of wanting to be alone, I don't want to be lonely, y'know? And because my class starts from 8am to 4pm, I have to stay home for 8 hours, which makes me feel a little isolated inside my house. And when I go out, I can barely even have fun anymore since I always lose my breath so easily. I can't even swim in cold pools and beaches since I get cold so easily. At family gatherings, I can barely even hang out with my cousins since they go out every night. I can't, though. It's basically because I get cold so easily and I can quickly get sick and have a runny nose. I barely even have any friends to talk to; last time I went to school when my disability wasn't a challenge, I had tons of friends. But now, I've only had one friend from my old school that still keeps in touch with me. And she has regular class, so I can't really chat with her every day. Plus, I barely know anyone that shares the same interests as me. Sometimes during online classes, I use my phone during lessons. And technically, every now and then I use my phone to cope with the fact I barely have any friends to talk to and have fun with because I find it fun to use my phone since it's not reality; it's the opposite. It's getting out of reality.

In my office, there was this recent case where a colleague of mine, Jessica, got married. Surprisingly, every team member (10 people excluding Jessica herself) got an invitation except for me. Jessica had personally informed me earlier that the wedding would be a small affair due to budget constraints. However, she told the rest of my colleagues that I was unavailable to attend. The truth came out during a team meeting after Jessica returned from her honeymoon. The wedding was a hot topic among my colleagues, and one of them mentioned how unfortunate it was that I couldn't make it. I couldn't help but correct him by saying that I was never invited in the first place. I noticed Jessica’s expression changing as I spoke, and since then, things between us have been rather formal.

Moreover, our department organized a dinner to celebrate Jessica's marriage, to which I contributed a gift. The date for this dinner was shifted a couple of times to accommodate everyone else's schedule, but when I mentioned my pre-planned overseas trip, no consideration was given to possibly rescheduling. It seems like another colleague, who happens to be Jessica’s close friend and the planner of the dinner, might be deliberately leaving me out, though I can't figure out why.

Was I wrong to clarify my non-invitation during the meeting, especially since everyone was under the impression I simply couldn't attend?

Imagine if this scenario played out on a reality TV show. The tension and misunderstanding in the room would be palpable, potentially making for some dramatic scenes. Viewers would likely be split, with some sympathizing with my position and others maybe feeling I could have handled it differently to avoid public confrontation. Reality show producers might even zoom in on Jessica’s changing expressions for added effect, and there could be confessionals where we both explain our sides of the story.

What should've been my approach at the meeting?

Two years after my divorce from my husband of 26 years, the situation remains complex, especially since we share four children. Our divorce was friendly enough, considering he revealed he was gay and we both agreed to separate amicably. Changing my last name after the split didn't seem necessary; imagining the hassle of updating IDs, legal documents, and bank accounts was too daunting, so I kept his surname for official uses but reverted to my maiden name socially.

Things took an unexpected turn when my ex-husband recently got engaged to a lovely man. I've been nothing but supportive of their union. However, during a recent celebration for my grandson's birthday, my ex—out of the blue—suggested I should consider dropping his last name. His fiancé added to the conversation, expressing his discomfort with me retaining the name, which was quite surprising.

I tried to lighten the mood with a joke about the bureaucratic nightmare it would involve, but they didn’t seem amused. My ex pressed on, suggesting that my clinging to his name hindered them from fully moving on and starting a new chapter. The request seemed odd since this had never been a problem over the past couple of years.

The tension escalated after the party, with my ex insisting that my keeping the last name was problematic for his fiancé, portraying a struggle to begin anew. I argued that our children also bear the same last name, and changing it would make me feel disconnected from them. The most painful part of this ordeal was my youngest son telling me that the fiancé feels threatened by me holding onto the last name, viewing it as if I still harbored some claim over my ex.

My ex even claimed that his fiancé saw my retaining the name as a "power play," which struck me as unfair. I feel torn between maintaining peace and being coerced into relinquishing a part of my identity to appease his partner’s insecurities. Though I’ve agreed to reconsider the situation after their wedding, my ex has labeled me as petty and selfish, escalating the conflict.

The irony is, my friends believe I should maintain my stance, but my children are split, creating further discord. The situation seems absurdly trivial to be causing such unrest. If this dispute were aired on a reality show, I imagine the audience would be polarized but likely sympathetic to the absurdity of being pressured over a name that ties me to my children, not just my past.

Should I cave to maintain harmony, or should I stand firm in my decision to keep the last name until I’m ready to change it, if ever?

the Mayor is a busy and hardworking man on my street who has taken it upon himself to police us little people from his house on the hill.

I used to be really good friends with his daughter. growing up we were always together, I was over their house a lot like she was over mine so I'm not really sure what made him lose his mind.. perhaps he got old. maybe he was always crazy and was born with it.. I remember hearing about his brother who lost his mind MANY years back, apparently his brother beat a few men senseless.. all went to the hospital except for one... then he went to jail.

I remember all the times the people littering would drive him crazy. all the times he got in his car and followed people to their homes to throw the garbage they dropped into their car windows or on their lawns, how he made large colorful signs and found ways to zip tie garbage cans to the stop signs and telephone poles on the corners.

I remember hearing about his daughter... from his daughter, my friend, and I was so confused. I thought she was talking about herself in third person until I realized she had a sister much older than her that went to the same school as I did and who ran away from home because her parents were way too crazy. she said that her room was originally a different room but as soon as her sister left, climbing through the window and out onto the deck, they redid the room and moved her in there, putting big things like trees and a gazebo to block the windows. she said from that point on her parents were different, they hovered and lingered more, they pulled her out of school and enrolled her in expensive private school, blaming the public school for not only her sister's disobedience but probably the sister's gayness as well. I remember her parents installing cameras around the inside of their house as well as secretly having spyware in the TV's, phones and computers to record times, conversations, passwords.... she found out because we shared account information for a game that we were playing together so sometimes I would go on her character to collect things for her or level her up, vice versa. she said that whenever one of her friends would comment about a sign on at a weird time for her she would just assume it was me... until she signed on my account to help me out by collecting when I got punished for something I didn't do or deserve. she had never signed on my account before so she thought everything was ok.... then her mom, the same lady who would slap her openly in a store or yell and embarrass her in front of classmates and friends, asked her if she had anything to say for herself.. anything she was hiding or lying about. of course she was confused, she had no idea what was happening and her mother probably didn't explain anything either. she ended up grounded and started to ask to use my phone and computer more often, even when we were over her house. She admitted to me that she was using my stuff to talk to some guy she had a crush on and that she hid the number of an unapproved guy in the hole in her wall she got from kicking a soccer ball in the house. when her dad found out the whole only got bigger, he called that kid countless times over a week threatening him and then made a deal with her that if he would answer her call and talk to them they would allow her to see him again but of course he never answered the phone. gradually we stopped hanging out with all the activities they had her doing but at some point I had graduated from school and she was going to too. They were going to throw this huge party for her and invite their friends and family but days before he flipped out on my family about our fence.

At the time, before we even knew about plans for a party.. it was Spring and we had wanted to replace the rotted out pieces of fence before the dogs got out. We weren't going to ask for money but since it was originally his fence that he put and we shared that one side, we figured it would be safe just to let them know. From what I heard it went well, the mayor had said he wanted to fix it but with him being a really good handyman and master carpenter his back was shot, he asked for some time, again no worries we weren't asking him to fix it or anything. we actually needed more time to decide on the fence since we were going to go for the full perimeter fence and not just at one side or section. he said nothing about a party and nothing about not having money, we weren't even asking for money.

weeks went by and with no word from him we decided to go ahead and order the fence. it took days to be delivered and once it was delivered it look another few days to put it up ourselves. they didn't offer help or money, we didn't ask. we did it fast like that not only for our dogs but also not to really inconvenience anyone. just as we finished the fence and planting some of the plants and flowers we got it had started raining hard so we went inside. apparently this bothered the mayor. it rained the rest of the day... let's say it was a Sunday with work the next day, obviously no one came out for the rest of the night to do anything with the fence. the next day, Monday all day people would be working.. at least on our side. the mayor can't work long with his back apparently.

we came back home to the mayor's wife waiting for us. she nicely but very awkwardly said that we should finish the fence because they were going to be having a party Friday. we apologized for the inconvenience and finished the fence, planting some more before it got dark and rained again. the same thing happened, the mayor was unhappy thinking we left garbage for him to clean or didn't care much about his property even though it was raining. Tuesday it rained so the progress was halted but Wednesday we went back after work to fix a panel of the fence, we were even nice enough to plant some flowers on their side of the fence, put some dirt and fertilizer with grass seed down too ..yeah it wouldn't grow until later but it was something right? we were happy with the job on both sides and sealed the fence again, officially done with the fence. no one said anything, no one gave money... the next day Wednesday or Thursday he went out there and ripped all the flowers we planted on his side out, he moved all the dirt away and blew the seeds away. we didn't say anything to them about it. they got ready for their party on Friday and partied all weekend long... some time during the next week he typed out an anonymous note with all of our transgressions from living next to them and put it in our mailbox. we knew it was him right away and when we asked him about it he played dumb and then him and my stepdad had a screaming match outside. for the next few days he would randomly walk out on his deck, yell out of his house windows or from his porch "YOU'RE MAKING ME FIGHT WITH MY FAMILY" and play loud music in his house and in his yard and cars. he would prank call the police like if we were doing it and set off his car alarms and put car alarms at all hours too. to this day he's never apologized, his wife never apologized or said anything about his behavior, same like his daughter. I thought at the very least she would say something but no. he's dead to us, they all are.. but his behavior has only gotten worse. he's nitpicked other neighbors and sent them letters and had screaming matches in the front yard.. to the point where he messed with a Mexican and you had ALLLLL the Spanish from the area on our block and in his yard at 3am shirtless, chasing him around screaming... even the Spanish women were out there cursing them while holding their kids.

i've been wondering why tears flow when I'm boiling with anger. it seems counterproductive, right? you’d expect steam, not water, when someone’s fuming. emotions like anger and sadness seem poles apart, yet they intertwine in the strangest way. is it the autonomic nervous system playing tricks, or a spillover from some emotional reservoir? ever screamed into a pillow and ended up sobbing?

think about cortisol—the stress hormone. when you’re angry, cortisol levels spike, and adrenaline kicks in. your heart races and your muscles tense. but then the tears come, almost as if your body’s betraying you. perhaps it’s a mechanism to signal distress. some experts suggest crying during anger can be a "safety valve" to prevent an emotional explosion. makes sense, doesn’t it? but why must it involve the humiliation of public tears?

i remember a situation at work, where a colleague's dismissiveness lit the fuse of my temper. suddenly, tears welled up against my will, in front of everyone! i felt mortified. one might argue it's part of "emotional intelligence," our body’s way of soliciting support by displaying vulnerability. yet, in that boardroom, did i really want vulnerability over asserting my point? and what about you? have you been caught in a swirl of emotions, with your tear ducts betraying your steely exterior?

there's a notion that crying serves as a cathartic release, purging pent-up emotions. it’s akin to rebooting a system overloaded by a whirlwind of feelings. so maybe, just maybe, those tears during a fury aren't enemies but allies pushing towards equilibrium. despite this understanding, it still feels like a betrayal in moments needing strength over softness. would it be different if society viewed emotional tears as strength rather than weakness? maybe the real question is not just why we cry when mad, but how do we learn to accept it?

I want friends so badly, it drives me insane. I have 3 friends but I only consider one to be an actual friend, because the others are assholes. I can’t hang out with my friend often because they live about 30 minutes from me and they go to school while I’m homeschooled. I have bad anxiety so I’m not good at talking to people at all unless I know them, It’s so bad that I can’t even talk to people online to try and make friends because I get too scared and worried. I want to make more friends that live close by so I can hang out more often and just have someone to go out with.

I want to go out more and get out of the house, but I don’t go out alone because of my own experiences with creepy men and pedophiles. It’s not that I want some just to have with me, but I want someone who I can connect deeply with bf not have to think about how and when to drive 30 mins to get there or whatever.

I want to make friends in my area, but everyone my age in my area are just assholes, which was one of the reasons I went into homeschool other than anxiety.

I have this deep feeling inside me like I just want to be held and loved, just to be with someone and feel safe and cared about with. I don’t know if I’m ready to get into another relationship yet since I just got out of a year long distance relationship about a month ago. I just crave touch and affection, but also that level of friendship where I’m comfortable enough to be myself.

I always get jealous seeing people out with friend groups and talking about their friend groups, I know how fun it is to be in friendgroups since I used to be in one a few years ago. I want that feeling again. I don’t know how to explain it but I just feel lonely.

Sure, I have my family, but they just make me feel more alone. My grandma always talks about how I barely have friends and need more, when I’m upset bc my friend did something my dad just tells me everyone is assholes and I need to learn that, my little sister makes fun of me for barely having friends. I just can’t handle it anymore. I’ve thought about suicide and running away, but it wouldn’t help.

For years I have just been wanting that feeling that I know I’m safe with someone for who I am and that I’m loved

This typing might not make sense I just heads up.

Hi I'm fake name Melody I'm 13 years old I'm a girl and I'm in an agency and this is my first year they do this thing called arts under this international blah blah blah blah blah I don't know called and I'm doing so many things the voice acting improv film scene photography singing dancing in voice acting and I just I'm making my own dance I don't know how I've never done it before I'm sick 2 weeks before we go out and I just feel like everything is against me I can't practice my singing I can't practice my scripts and I'm forcing myself to keep choreographing but I am a gymnast so there's a lot of tumbling and flipping and so I have to go to the football field to do it and I haven't been able to go because I'm sick and so I'm making myself go but I'm not always to drive so I have to take my brother and I'm just so constantly stressed every single time I try to cry about it because I feel like there's an elephant sitting my chest my mom and dad step dad and stepmom all said this can be fixed there's nothing to cry about there's nothing to cry about if it can be fixed don't cry blah blah blah and I feel like I can't cry and I just got done with breakdown I couldn't breathe and I just what it cry but I can't because I don't I feel guilty every single time I do and even when I'm sleepy I can't sleep anymore I just can't do this I'm just so tired and I'm not going to do nothing extreme but I just want to feel like me again and I've been doing things I shouldn't be doing like I'll make myself throw up or cut my calories how much I'm eating I know I shouldn't be but I feel guilty whatever I eat too much I've had comments on my body my entire life from wow you have really muscular legs or muscular arms or you know you have a nice ass or you have a nice butt or big I don't know anymore and I just I just want to lose it I don't want to be seen for that anymore I feel so insecure in my own body and I got my period really early so my body's really developed and I don't have a big chest but I have curves to say I just I don't know how to say my feelings so if this isn't good I'm sorry it just if you read this can you just please give me something I just make me feel human and if you can at least try. (This is typed using voice typing so if it's not the best that's why but my hands are shaking and I can't type right now)

Sincerely,

Melody

My friend emailed me. She said she was sorry for existing. HSe aiahd tahst she was s4roy for burdening ne= with her problems, that sh e should deal with them in her own, and if she wants strong enough to deal with it sh e doesn't deserve to live

I read it and my hands are still shaking, atp the onelyc reson my typing is somweehat good is because eayutpcorredct. I fel like I did something, and i also feel horrihble for not being able to cyr. I told her this:

You don't need to feel sorry for existing. I love you, Angel, and I would never want you to die. (btw im sorry if the typuing is messy myt hands are shaking ereally bad as uinmn typing thisw.s') Your existence wasnt a mistake, whe2ther yoyu think so otr not. I;m struggling to find the word sto say here, but I don't wnzt youu to disappear. I know i have iother firneds but none of thema re as funny or kind as you, or as willing to give me a hug when I;m sad, and none of tehm would ever be able to fill the hole you'd leave behinmd if you were to die. Everysing le on eof my firned are special to me, you icluded. If you have problems, I wnt to help you. Dont think youre beurdening me, i wnat to help, i like helping and i defo9nitley dont wnat you to die. Theres nothing wrong with asking for help. but if despie all i said, if you do die... just know i'll nevr forget you. You ARE loved no matter what you may think.

Idk if i helped ir made things worde, she hasnt repsnded yet. I feel so horrihble.

Is it me or are some song lyrics more relatable than others. One of the song lyrics I relate to is

"It was never to end like this"

"so go ahead and tell me what I did to deserve this " From Hurtlees by Dean Lewis. 🎵

This can be related to your mental health struggles or friendship that has ended.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, more than I probably should. I’m 20 years old, been in a relationship for a few months now, and on the surface, things are fine. She’s nice, funny, thoughtful, always checking in on me. We get along well, don’t fight, and everything seems… okay. But that’s kind of the problem—it’s just okay. I keep waiting for that spark, that big overwhelming feeling everyone talks about, the one where you just know you’re in love. But it hasn’t come. Not even close. And I’m starting to wonder if it ever will. I don’t dislike her. I enjoy spending time with her. But when I think about the future, or even just picture us next year, it’s like looking at something blurry. No clear image comes to mind. And it’s making me feel guilty, like I’m lying by staying in this relationship when my heart might not really be in it.

I’ve talked to a few friends about it, and I get mixed advice. Some say love takes time, that I shouldn’t expect fireworks this early, especially since we’re both still young. Others tell me if I’m already questioning things, that’s my answer right there. But it’s not that simple. I don’t want to hurt her. She’s done nothing wrong. She cares about me, probably more than I deserve, and the thought of breaking her heart makes me sick. But at the same time, I keep asking myself—is it fair to stay just because I don’t want to be the bad guy? Isn’t that worse in the long run? I don’t want to settle into a relationship just because it’s comfortable or because I’m afraid of being alone. But the fear of regret is real too. What if I leave and realize I made a mistake? What if I’m just not in the right mindset and this is all in my head?

We’ve had good moments, don’t get me wrong. Little laughs, shared jokes, quiet nights watching dumb movies. But there’s something missing. It’s like there’s a wall I can’t get past, a layer of emotion that never really shows up. I keep comparing what I feel now to how I’ve felt in past crushes, where I couldn’t stop thinking about someone, where I felt that ache when we were apart. With her, it’s different. I don’t count down the hours until I see her. Sometimes, I even feel relieved when plans get canceled. And then I feel awful for feeling that way. I keep telling myself maybe it’ll change, maybe I just need more time. But how much time is enough before you admit something isn’t clicking? I see couples who look crazy about each other, and I wonder what that feels like. I’ve never had that, and I’m scared maybe I’m just not capable of that kind of love—or worse, maybe I just haven’t found the right person yet, and I’m wasting both of our time pretending I have.

So yeah, I don’t know if I should stay in my relationship. I’m trying to be honest with myself, but the guilt is eating at me. I don’t want to be cruel, but I also don’t want to lie by staying when I’m not really all in. I wish someone could just tell me what the right answer is. I wish I could look at her and feel that certainty people talk about. But I don’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And until I figure it out, I’m stuck in this weird place between not wanting to hurt her and not wanting to hurt myself by staying in something that doesn’t feel right.

I use to be proud of my family name. I am from a small town so when people would find out my lastnight they would say oh your related to this person they are such an awesome and generous person. Now I am ashamed. Ever since I found out my grandfather SA my little brother my family hasn’t been the same. People took sides on whether they believe him or not. They thought my grandfather is this well known, intelligent hard working guy he could never do something like that. Well I knew the truth.that he was just to embarrassed and ashamed to admit to what he did he fled to another country. Our relationship fizzled out and when he passed. The family we right we had left got even worse. My grandfather was a wealthy man so of course everyone fought over money.

In a time when we should be helping and grieving together turned to money. His brother and his family being the worst. Taking control of everything and selling property that had been in my family for generations. I didn’t care for the money but that hurt the most. Something that’s an always promised to stay in the family was sold off like it meant nothing. Like it wasn’t the one place that held all the good memories before the fighting accusations and money, hungry people.. as I’ve gotten older it’s sad, but I’ve learned just because your blood doesn’t mean your family. It’s the people who show up for you. so no longer am I proud to say my family name. No it’s just a distant memory of what could’ve been.

Growing up as a Black girl,
you never know what the future holds.
You learn fast.
Too fast.
Drugs, alcohol, sex—
before I even knew my times tables,
I knew what the world was about.
The "birds and the bees" talk?
Didn’t need it.
By the time I was born,
I already had four older siblings.
The oldest? grown.
twenty four , twenty five—
a whole life ahead,
while mine was just beginning.
Seven years later—
I’m no longer the youngest.
Now I’m the oldest.
Fourteen years later—
I’m in the middle, but still the oldest.
A split family teaches you choices
you were never supposed to make.
My mother has feelings.
My father has feelings.
My stepmother has feelings.
But what about mine?
How do you think I felt
when I realized I was the crack in their foundation?
That my mother’s pregnancy
shattered my father and stepmother’s family?
That my father had four kids before I even existed?
That his arm carried their names in ink,
but when I asked to be added,
he told me no—because of the “pain.”
Pain?
You wanna talk about pain?
I was cheated on,
manipulated—over and over,
by the same person.
And I let them.
I was dumb.
I almost got into fights
over people I didn’t even want.
Because I was supposed to.
Because I was taught
that disrespect had to be answered.
I hit puberty early, 5th grade.
First time I got catcalled? Eleven.
Let that sink in—
Eleven.
At the store with my older sister,
a grown man called out to us.
She was in her 20s—
but he meant both of us.
My body grew before I was ready,
so men saw a woman where a child stood.
By middle school,
the world was dying from COVID,
but I was already grieving
the childhood I never had.
How many times have I been called beautiful
by someone who shouldn’t even be looking?
How many times have I been told—
"You can’t wear that."
Because my chest was bigger.
Because men were coming over.
Because my mother was afraid.
Not for them.
For me.
Now I’m a freshman,
but people think I’m older.
I’m used to it.
On some level, it’s a compliment—
on every other, it’s not.
It just means I never got time to be a kid.
So yeah—
when I do something that seems childish,
that’s little me fighting to exist.
When I scream over dumb things,
when I get excited like I’m five again—
that’s Nyana.
That’s the kid in me,
the one I refuse to let die.
And when they stare—
I stare back.
Because the version of me you see,
that’s the one you want to box,
the one you want to label.
But I’m so much more than the skin they see,
than the years they’ve added on me.
I'm the kid who never got to be a kid.
They want me to act my age?
What’s my age?
When I’m a reflection of everyone’s expectations
and not my own truth?
I never got the luxury of slowing down,
of making mistakes without the weight of judgment.
Never had the time to just be.
Just to be young.
Just to be free.
And how do you think I feel
growing up in a world
where men have “weird relationships”
with their girl “best friends”?
It’s just weird.
But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Not when my own father
once said he would "hit"
if his gave him a chance.
I saw my first "film" at seven—
not on purpose,
but because I wanted to be like every other kid.
Wanted to watch YouTube,
wanted to laugh at the same jokes,
wanted to feel like I belonged.
But the things I saw?
They weren’t for me.
Not for a seven-year-old
who still needed to feel safe in their own room.
I didn’t know what to do with what I saw.
Didn’t know how to unsee it.
But I learned,
fast.
Just like I learned in fourth grade
that sleepovers weren’t what they were on TV.
That not every mother is a mother first.
That sometimes, a mother wants to be a friend,
and when that happens,
you become the collateral damage.
She let her daughter do things no child should do,
and I was there,
forced into it,
too young to understand,
too scared to say no.
And when I got in trouble for it,
when I told my mother it wasn’t my fault,
guess who still got in trouble?
Guess who didn’t.

So yeah, when I laugh too loud,
when I hold on to the simple things—
that’s me reaching for the years they took.
I’m reclaiming what’s mine—
the innocence I was denied,
the joy I never got to wear.
And if that makes you uncomfortable,
I don’t care.
Because after all this time,
I owe it to myself to just be.
To be me.

I live in a broken family

My family was not like this, even if we weren’t perfect we all still loved each other and was somewhat okay. A few months ago my father had an issue with his job and left it, thus financial problems started. My sibling who is abroad does their best to support us. Our relatives from both paternal and maternal side cut contact with us and started talking behind our backs because we do not have the financial stability anymore, not even our grandparents talk to us or ask about us, even though we have never asked for money from them and never would have asked for it. But nobody even calls or texts us, instead they sometimes come over to spite us and leave us out of important familial information. This obviously broke my siblings and my heart but my parents are devastated because of this.

Gradually my parents started fighting more too, always creating this gloomy atmosphere at my house. My parents started blaming themselves at first for not being able to do the same for me as they did for my elder sibling then they started to blame me for not being a good enough student even though I’m working 24/7 to maintain a scholarship and earn money. Then my dad had to cheat. Well some might say it was not direct cheating but we caught him on a video call with another lady and saw their texts. My younger sibling hates his gut now, we had to adjust, cause what can we do, what else can be done. My parents aren’t in love anymore, not like before, I’m pretty sure if we did not exist they would divorce, at least that is what they tell me all the time.

90% of the time I feel dissociated, I don’t know if I’m supposed to thank “god” for keeping me alive or hate god for making us go through this. I hate living here now, everyone is always fighting, everyone is always depressed, it feels like even staying at my stupid university will be better than staying here.

I just want everything to end.

Not long ago, I had dinner out with a bunch of pals. It was a delightful evening until the check arrived. That's when my friend, Emily, mentioned she'd left her wallet at home. It wasn't the first occurrence of such an incident, although it was the first time with me; I heard she’s done similar things with others before.

The table went silent, everyone's eyes darting, waiting for someone to volunteer to pay for her. Initially, I kept quiet, but when Emily's gaze fell on me, I felt compelled to respond. Awkwardly, I murmured, "I cant really cover you, sorry." She looked taken aback and quickly assured me she'd repay me the next morning. Despite her assurance, I stood my ground, explaining my discomfort with paying for others, especially under these recurring circumstances.

Emily seemed offended and expressed that I had embarrassed her in front of everyone. Eventually, another friend reluctantly covered her portion, but you could feel the atmosphere had changed. Later, Emily texted me, accusing me of being out of line and insisting I should have just covered the "small amount."

Reactions among our group were mixed; some felt I should’ve just paid it, trusting her promise to reimburse, while others supported my stance, considering her past behavior.

Imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality TV show. With cameras rolling, capturing every grimace and whisper, the tension might have escalated dramatically. Viewers might see it as a moment of truth about friendships and responsibilities, potentially leading to fierce debates among fans about trust, responsibility, and friendships under financial scrutiny. In such a scenario, the audience's reaction could range from sympathy for Emily to applause for my firm stance on personal boundaries.

What would your reaction be if this happened on a reality show?

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

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

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

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

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