Top Stories: Life’s Most Memorable Moments

For the longest time, I’ve been stuck in this cycle of excuses. I’d wake up every morning telling myself I’d make changes, that today would be different, but by the time the day ended, I was back to square one. Whether it’s eating healthier, exercising, or even just cleaning my space, I keep putting it off. I’d tell myself, "I’ll start tomorrow," but tomorrow never seems to come.

Yesterday was my breaking point. I was scrolling through social media and saw an old friend post about running their first marathon. I remember how we used to run together, how much I loved it back then. And now? I can’t even jog up the stairs without feeling winded. It hit me like a ton of bricks—what am I even doing with my life? Why do I keep finding reasons to avoid what I know I need to do?

I looked around my apartment after that. Clothes piled up on the floor, dishes in the sink from who-knows-how-many days ago, and a gym membership card collecting dust on the counter. That’s when it finally clicked—it’s time to stop. It’s time to stop avoiding the hard stuff, time to stop pretending everything will fix itself, and time to stop being my own worst enemy.

I don’t have a perfect plan yet, and honestly, I’m scared I’ll slip back into my old habits. But I know I can’t keep going like this. If I don’t make a change now, when will I? Maybe writing this out will help me stay accountable. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re feeling stuck too, maybe it’s time to stop and take the first step. We’ve got this.

Hey everyone, I’m not usually one to air my personal stuff, but I really need some advice here. For the past few months, I’ve had this gut feeling that my wife might be cheating on me, and it's eating me alive. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the signs are starting to pile up, and I’m just not sure what to do.

It all started when she began staying late at work more often. At first, I didn’t think much of it—she’s always been dedicated to her job. But then, she became super protective of her phone. She used to leave it lying around, but now she keeps it close and seems to be on it all the time, even at odd hours. And when I casually ask about her day, her answers feel...vague? Like she’s hiding something.

Then there are the little things. She started dressing up more than usual, even just to “run errands” or meet friends. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone. I’ve tried to brush it off, telling myself I’m being paranoid, but every time I bring it up, she gets defensive or says I’m just being insecure. It makes me feel like maybe I’m overthinking, but part of me feels like my concerns are valid.

To make things worse, I found a receipt for a fancy dinner that she said was a "work thing," but I know her company usually doesn’t do dinners like that. I keep second-guessing myself, and now I’m stuck in this loop of anxiety. I don’t want to accuse her without solid proof, but I also can’t keep living in this uncertainty.

So here I am, asking for advice. Has anyone else been through this? How do you confront someone you love without it turning into a huge fight? Should I even bring it up again, or am I just being paranoid? Any advice would be appreciated—I feel like I’m losing my mind here.

I've come to the harsh realization that perhaps, I'm not the nicest person around. In my mid-thirties, I find myself surrounded only by a single friend and a girlfriend, yet I can't shake the feeling that I'm somehow superior to others. My lifestyle is quite reclusive; I shy away from any social gatherings related to work, and most of my routine revolves around my job, hitting the gym, smoking weed, and cycling. Traveling and cycling in the forest are my escapes, the rare times I don't feel swamped by depression.

Interacting with people, especially in groups, is a daunting task for me. The fear of turning red-faced and being judged negatively is always lurking. Thus, I avoid such situations altogether. There's a worrisome intensity in the way I live; I indulge too often in alcohol or getting high, viewing people merely as elements that enhance my own existence. My eyes wander too freely, admiring every attractive woman I come across, often blatantly flirting in the presence of my girlfriend. Even though these thoughts are never vocalized, I often catch myself belittling others or feeling utter disdain towards them internally.

I confess to being a staunch atheist, holding a disdainful view towards those who are spiritually inclined, believing myself to be smarter, better-looking, and stronger. The resentment builds whenever I see someone possessing what I desire, although I manage to keep this anger bottled up within.

Dominating these emotions is a profound sense of isolation, mixed oddly with a perverse comfort in wallowing in my misery. Sometimes, hurting my own feelings seems like a twisted form of pleasure, perhaps because it means feeling something at all.

My family background does little to lighten my outlook. My brother lives with the dark shadow of being a murderer and a former heroin addict. My father was a violent man, devoid of emotions, who ultimately took his own life. My mother, afflicted by illness so severe that she has been bedridden since my childhood, sparks a guilt within me for not taking care of her. However, I've chosen a path of self-preservation as dedicating myself to her care would consume my own existence entirely.

This life I've crafted for myself is one I despise, yet a part of me feels I shouldn't. With a good education, a well-paying job, and an undeniable appeal to women, I should feel fulfilled. Instead, I’m left feeling empty and, frankly, disgusted with myself for sounding like a self-pitying fool. What the hell is wrong with me?

Despite my efforts not to belittle others overtly, the impression that people don’t like me is hard to shake off. Loneliness is a constant companion.

If I were to join a reality show, my character might be polarizing. Would the audience appreciate my brutally honest introspections, or would they be repelled by my self-confessed arrogance and emotional detachment? It's intriguing yet terrifying to ponder how my persona would unfold under the constant scrutiny of cameras and a public audience.

I chose the friendship stories category but yeah it's related to friendship, love, family, work... I am like that.

I grew up in a very religious family where our faith has always guided our lives and choices. The teachings I’ve known my whole life tell me that being gay is wrong, and yet, I feel these undeniable attractions that make me question everything. I’ve tried to push it down, to change, to pray it away, but it’s always there, a part of me I can’t ignore.

I don’t know how to reconcile my beliefs with who I am. It feels like every day, I’m torn between two worlds: the expectations of my family and faith, and the reality of my own heart. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Is this something I can change, or should I even try? I’ve heard so many opinions, but deep down, I just want to know if I can truly be at peace with both my faith and myself.

If anyone has gone through something similar, or if you have advice, I’d really appreciate hearing from you. I feel so lost and alone in this struggle, and I just need someone to help me see a way through this.

Being a mom is the most rewarding and terrifying thing I’ve ever done. My little girl is only two years old, but every single day, I find myself wondering: am I doing enough? How to be a good mother when it feels like there’s so much to figure out?

Some days, I feel like I’m nailing it. We play together, she laughs at my silly songs, and I can see how happy she is. But then there are moments when I feel like I’m completely failing. Like yesterday, when I lost my temper because she spilled juice on the carpet after I told her three times not to run around with her cup. She cried, and it broke my heart because all I could think about was, “What kind of mom yells at a two-year-old over juice?”

I read parenting blogs and watch videos on how to raise happy, confident kids, but it’s overwhelming. There’s so much advice out there, and half of it feels contradictory. Be strict, but not too strict. Let them explore, but set boundaries. Make healthy meals, but don’t stress if they eat nuggets and fries once in a while. I’m trying to do it all, but is that even possible?

I see other moms who seem to have it all together—perfectly dressed kids, Pinterest-worthy lunches, and spotless homes. Meanwhile, I’m just proud if I can get her to daycare on time with matching socks. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re struggling too and just hiding it better.

I love my daughter more than anything, and I want her to grow up feeling loved, supported, and safe. But how do I know if I’m doing it right? Is there some magic formula on how to be a good mother, or is it just about showing up every day and doing your best?

If anyone has advice or has felt this way too, I’d love to hear it. I’m trying so hard, but some days it feels like I’m just fumbling through.

I never thought I’d end up here, but here I am, dreading every single morning when my alarm goes off. I hate my job. There, I said it. I’ve tried to convince myself that it’s just a phase, that everyone feels like this sometimes, but it’s been almost a year, and nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten worse.

The work itself isn’t even that bad. I mean, it’s not what I’m passionate about, but it’s tolerable. The real problem is the people. My boss is one of those micro-managers who has to be involved in every tiny detail. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I’ll spend hours on a project, only for them to nitpick and make me redo the whole thing for no real reason. It’s exhausting and makes me feel like all my effort is pointless.

Then there’s the office culture—or lack of it. Nobody talks to each other unless it’s about work. Lunch breaks feel like detention, with everyone silently eating at their desks or scrolling through their phones. I tried to make friends when I first started, but everyone already seemed to have their little cliques. After a while, I just gave up.

What really gets to me, though, is the constant pressure. It’s like they expect us to give 110% all the time, but they don’t give anything back. Overtime is practically mandatory, but don’t expect a “thank you” or even acknowledgment for staying late. And forget about a raise or promotion—that’s a pipe dream. It’s hard not to feel bitter when you’re working so hard and getting nothing in return.

I keep telling myself I should just quit, but it’s not that simple. I’ve got bills to pay, and the job market isn’t exactly booming right now. Plus, there’s this tiny voice in the back of my head that keeps asking, “What if the next job is just as bad—or worse?” It’s like I’m stuck in this cycle where I hate my job, but I’m too scared to leave.

Even at home, I can’t seem to escape it. I’m constantly checking emails or stressing about the next deadline. It’s like my job has taken over my entire life, and I don’t know how to take it back. My family keeps telling me to just hang in there, but they don’t understand how draining it is. By the end of the day, I’m too tired to even think about applying for other jobs, let alone pursuing something I actually enjoy.

Sometimes, I wonder if it’s me. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this kind of work. Or maybe I’m being ungrateful because at least I have a job. But then I think about how miserable I am, and I can’t help but feel like there has to be more to life than this. Doesn’t there?

If anyone else feels this way, I’d love to know how you’re coping—or if you’ve managed to get out, how did you do it? Right now, I just feel stuck, and honestly, it’s hard to see a way forward. All I know is, I can’t keep living like this. Something’s gotta give.

So, I just had the most confusing argument with my boyfriend, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. Out of nowhere, he tells me I’m "too clingy." Clingy?? What does that even mean in a relationship? I honestly don’t get it. We’ve been together for a while now, and I thought being close was a good thing. Isn’t that what being in love is about? Spending time together, sharing our lives, and, you know, actually being there for each other?

Look, I’ll admit I do like to know where he is, what he’s up to, and I text him a lot during the day. But isn’t that just because I care? We both work, and I miss him during the day, so a quick message here and there seems normal to me. I didn’t think it was something that would be seen as "clingy." He even said he loves how I’m always there for him, so now I’m just confused. How can it be both a good and a bad thing?

And, honestly, it's not like I’m following him everywhere or stopping him from hanging out with friends. I just want to be part of his life, and I thought that’s what he wanted too. So now I'm sitting here thinking, what is the actual meaning of clingy in a relationship? Does it mean I’m supposed to back off? Give him space? But then, where’s the line between showing love and being too much?

I guess I’m just frustrated because this word came out of nowhere, and I don’t know how to fix it without feeling like I’m not being myself. Has anyone else dealt with this? What’s the clingy meaning in relationships supposed to mean anyway? Am I overreacting here?

I never thought I’d be the kind of person to say this, but here I am, typing the words I’ve been too ashamed to admit out loud: I hate my wife. Even writing it feels wrong, like I’m betraying the vows we made on our wedding day. But the truth is, I don’t even recognize the person I married anymore—and maybe, I don’t recognize myself either.

We’ve been married for five years, and somewhere along the way, everything changed. It wasn’t always like this. In the beginning, she was my best friend. We laughed at the same jokes, stayed up late talking about everything, and I couldn’t imagine a life without her. But now? Now it feels like we’re just two strangers living under the same roof.

The little things started piling up first. She’s always criticizing me—what I wear, how I do chores, even the way I talk to people. It’s like nothing I do is ever good enough for her. Last week, I came home after a long day at work, and instead of a simple “hi,” she just started yelling about how I didn’t take the trash out the night before. It’s always something. And yeah, I get it, I’m not perfect. But does she have to make me feel like a failure every single day?

It’s not just the nagging, though. It’s how cold she’s become. We barely talk anymore unless it’s about bills or what’s for dinner. She spends most of her time scrolling on her phone or watching TV. I’ve tried to suggest date nights or even just going for a walk together, but she always has an excuse—too tired, too busy, or just flat-out not interested. It’s like she doesn’t even care about us anymore. And honestly? I’ve stopped trying because rejection hurts too much.

I hate how I feel around her now. It’s like walking on eggshells all the time, trying to avoid another argument. But even when I keep my mouth shut, she still finds something to be mad about. I’m starting to dread coming home because I know it’s just going to be more of the same. I feel trapped, like no matter what I do, I’ll never make her happy.

I’ve tried talking to her about it, but it’s like hitting a brick wall. Whenever I bring up how I’m feeling, she either gets defensive or turns it around on me. “You’re just overreacting,” she’ll say, or, “Maybe if you actually listened to me, things wouldn’t be so bad.” It’s like my feelings don’t matter to her at all. How are we supposed to fix this if she won’t even admit there’s a problem?

The thing is, I don’t want to hate her. I want to fix this. I want to go back to the way things were when we actually liked each other. But I don’t even know where to start. Sometimes I wonder if she hates me too, and we’re just both too scared to admit it. Is this what marriage is supposed to be like? Because if it is, I don’t know if I can do this for the rest of my life.

I’ve thought about leaving, but the idea terrifies me. What if I regret it? What if this is just a rough patch and we could’ve worked through it? Plus, there’s the guilt. I made a promise to her, to stay through better or worse. But how much worse am I supposed to endure before it’s okay to say enough is enough?

And then there’s the practical stuff. We’ve built a life together—shared bills, shared friends, and even a shared dog. Untangling all of that feels impossible. I don’t want to be the bad guy, the one who gave up on our marriage. But at the same time, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling this way.

If this was a reality show, I wonder what people would say about me. Would they see me as the villain, the ungrateful husband who can’t appreciate his wife? Or would they understand that I’m just a guy who’s trying to figure out where things went wrong? Honestly, I don’t even know what to think anymore.

If anyone’s been through something like this, how did you deal with it? Did you stay and try to fix things, or did you walk away? Right now, I just feel stuck, like no matter what I do, I’m going to hurt someone—her or myself. All I know is, I can’t keep living like this. Something has to change, but I don’t know if we can make it work.

Hey everyone, my name's Mike. I don’t really know if this is the right place to ask, but I’m kinda desperate for answers. How long does it actually take to get over someone? I know, it probably sounds like I'm overthinking, but I honestly can't seem to shake it. I broke up with Sarah almost three months ago, and the feelings just won’t let up. Every time I try to focus on something else, she just pops back into my mind. I feel like I’m stuck in this loop where I can't move forward, but I also can't go back.

We were together for almost two years, and we had so many plans—vacations we wanted to take, moving in together, all that. It wasn't a perfect relationship (not by a long shot), but it felt real, you know? Even the little things, like grabbing coffee on Saturdays or having movie marathons on rainy days… they’re haunting me now. I’m not sure if it’s the routine or the actual person I miss.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to move on. I’ve been going out more with friends, hitting the gym, and even focusing more on work. But somehow, it feels like nothing quite fills the gap she left. I thought about dating again, but even just thinking about getting to know someone new feels exhausting. What if it takes forever to get over her? What if I’m just going to feel this way forever?

People say that time heals all wounds, but is there some kind of timeline I’m missing? Some people seem to move on in a month or two, and here I am, still struggling. It’s hard not to feel like there’s something wrong with me. Anyway, if anyone has been through something similar, how long did it take you to finally feel normal again? I just want to know that there’s some light at the end of this tunnel. Thanks for listening.

I always thought I’d be ready for this moment. I mean, isn’t that what parenting is all about? You raise your kids to be independent, to go out into the world and make their own lives. But now that it’s actually happened, I feel so... lost. The empty nest isn’t what I expected at all.

Last month, our youngest moved out to start college. The house feels so quiet now, almost like it’s holding its breath. For years, it was filled with laughter, noise, and the constant chaos of a busy family. Now, it’s just me and my husband, and we don’t really know what to do with ourselves. We used to joke about all the free time we’d have once the kids were gone, but the silence is... unsettling.

I find myself wandering into their rooms, staring at the posters on the walls, and wondering how time flew by so quickly. It feels like just yesterday I was helping them with homework, driving them to soccer practice, or staying up late to make sure they got home safe from a night out. Now, they’re off living their lives, and I’m stuck here trying to figure out what mine looks like without them in it every day.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m proud of them. So proud. They’re doing amazing things, and I know this is how it’s supposed to be. But I didn’t realize how much of my identity was tied up in being a mom. Now that they don’t need me the same way, I’m struggling to figure out who I am outside of that role.

Everyone keeps saying I should take this time to focus on myself, pick up hobbies, or travel. But it’s hard to start when your heart feels so heavy. Has anyone else gone through this? How do you adjust to life with an empty nest? I want to be happy for them, and I am, but I can’t shake this feeling of loneliness.

A few months ago, I faced something I never thought I’d have to deal with—trying to comfort my best friend after she lost her mom. It was sudden, a heart attack, and it left everyone in her family completely shattered. I remember getting the phone call and just sitting there in shock. What do you even say when something like that happens?

When I went to see her the next day, I froze at the door. I had all these things running through my head, but none of them seemed right. “I’m sorry for your loss” felt too generic. “She’s in a better place” sounded hollow. And “let me know if you need anything” felt like something people just say, but never follow through on. I stood there for a good five minutes, rehearsing words in my head, and none of them felt like enough.

Finally, I rang the bell. When she opened the door, I could see how much pain she was in. Her eyes were red, her shoulders slumped, and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all. I panicked and blurted out, “I’m so sorry.” She nodded and let me in without saying much. The whole visit, I kept second-guessing myself. Should I talk about her mom? Should I stay quiet? Was I making her feel worse?

At one point, she started crying, and all I could think to do was sit beside her and let her cry. I didn’t say anything. I just put my arm around her. And you know what? She told me later that was exactly what she needed—someone to just be there without trying to fix it or say the "right" thing.

That experience taught me a lot about what to say to someone who lost a loved one—or rather, what not to say. I realized that people don’t need clichés or advice in those moments. They don’t want to hear “time heals all wounds” or “everything happens for a reason.” Those words might come from a good place, but they don’t really help when someone is drowning in grief. What they need is for you to acknowledge their pain and let them feel it without judgment.

Over the weeks that followed, I tried to be there for her in small ways. I checked in with her often, even if it was just a text saying, “Thinking of you today.” I didn’t expect her to reply, but I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. I also made sure to listen when she wanted to talk, even if she repeated the same stories about her mom over and over again. I learned that grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and people need to process it at their own pace.

One thing that really stood out to me was how much she appreciated when people shared memories of her mom. At the funeral, a mutual friend told a funny story about how her mom used to sneak extra candy into her kids’ stockings at Christmas, even though she’d pretend to be strict about sugar. My friend smiled—really smiled—for the first time that day. It was a reminder that her mom wasn’t just gone; she was still a part of all of us through those memories.

Now, when someone asks me what to say to someone who lost a loved one, I always tell them the same thing: don’t overthink it. It’s not about finding the perfect words; it’s about showing up and letting them know you care. Sometimes, saying “I’m here for you” and actually being there is more powerful than any other words.

Another thing I learned is that support doesn’t stop after the first few weeks. In the beginning, everyone rushes to offer condolences and bring meals, but as time goes on, people get busy with their own lives. That’s when the person grieving needs support the most. I made a point to invite my friend out for coffee or walks months after her mom’s passing, and she told me those little gestures made all the difference.

Looking back, I realize how much I’ve grown through this experience. I used to feel helpless and awkward around grief, but now I know it’s okay not to have all the answers. Sometimes, just saying “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you” is enough. It’s not about solving their pain—it’s about being a steady presence while they navigate through it.

If you’re reading this because you’re struggling with what to say to someone who lost a loved one, I hope this helps. Just remember, you don’t have to fix anything or make it better. Let them cry, let them talk, or just sit in silence with them if that’s what they need. Your presence alone speaks louder than any words ever could.

I don’t even know where to start. For as long as I can remember, there’s been this feeling deep inside me, a constant whisper that I’m not good enough. Every day, I ask myself, why do I hate myself so much? And every day, I come up empty. It’s like I’m stuck in this loop, and I can’t figure out how to break free.

The crazy part is, from the outside, you’d probably think my life is fine. I have a decent job, supportive friends, and a family that loves me. But none of that seems to matter when the voice in my head tells me over and over that I’m a failure. It’s not like I choose to feel this way—it’s just there, like a shadow I can’t escape.

For me, the self-hate started small. I’d beat myself up over little things, like saying something awkward in a conversation or getting a bad grade in school. Back then, I thought everyone did that. But over time, those thoughts got louder, and now it feels like they’re all I can hear. No matter what I do, I’m constantly second-guessing myself. Did I handle that situation right? Did I offend someone without realizing it? Am I even worth anyone’s time?

Social situations are the worst. I’ll be in a group, and instead of enjoying the moment, I’m obsessing over whether people actually like me. I’ll replay conversations in my head for days, analyzing every word I said and convincing myself I sounded stupid or needy. The worst part is, even when people tell me I’m fine or that I’m overthinking, I don’t believe them. It’s like my brain won’t let me accept anything positive about myself.

And don’t even get me started on my appearance. Some days, I can barely look in the mirror. I pick apart every flaw, every imperfection, and wonder how anyone could find me attractive. I know it’s unhealthy, but it feels impossible to stop. Social media doesn’t help either. I’ll scroll through Instagram and see all these perfect people with perfect lives, and it just makes me feel worse. I know it’s fake, but it still gets to me.

At work, it’s the same story. I could spend hours on a project, pouring everything I have into it, but as soon as I hand it in, all I can think about are the mistakes I might have made. Even when I get good feedback, it doesn’t stick. Instead, I focus on the one piece of criticism or the one thing I think I could’ve done better. It’s exhausting.

The thing is, I don’t even know where this self-hate comes from. I didn’t have a traumatic childhood. My parents were strict, sure, but they loved me and did their best. So why do I hate myself? Why can’t I shake this feeling that I’m not enough, no matter what I do?

I’ve tried all the usual advice—positive affirmations, journaling, even therapy. And while those things help in the moment, the feeling always comes back. It’s like there’s this wall between me and actually believing anything good about myself. I’ll write down things I’m proud of or things I’ve achieved, but they always feel small compared to the weight of everything I think I’ve failed at.

One of the hardest parts is how isolating it feels. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way—there are forums and articles and videos about it—but in my daily life, it’s hard to imagine anyone else struggling like this. Everyone around me seems so confident, so sure of themselves. Meanwhile, I’m over here just trying to make it through the day without falling apart.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever feel differently. Will there ever be a day where I wake up and don’t feel this weight on my chest? Or is this just who I am—a person who’s destined to hate themselves no matter what? I want to believe that things can change, but honestly, I don’t know how to get there.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I wish I had answers for you. I wish I could tell you how to stop feeling this way, but I’m still trying to figure it out myself. All I can say is, you’re not alone. And maybe that’s the first step—just admitting that we’re struggling and trying to find a way forward, even if it’s messy and imperfect.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but for now, I’m just trying to hold on to the hope that it doesn’t have to be like this forever. Maybe there’s a way to break free from this cycle. Maybe one day, I’ll look in the mirror and see someone worth loving. Until then, I’ll keep asking the question, why do I hate myself?—and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find an answer that helps me heal.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about self respect. I never used to think much about it—I guess I always assumed it was just about having confidence or standing up for yourself. But now, after what happened last week, I’m starting to realize it’s so much more than that.

It started at work. I’ve been at my job for three years now, and I’ve always been the “go-to” person whenever someone needs help. Whether it’s staying late to finish a project, covering for someone who’s out sick, or just being the one to solve last-minute emergencies, I’ve always said yes. I thought it was the right thing to do—showing I’m a team player, someone dependable. But honestly? It’s starting to feel like people take advantage of that.

Last Friday was the breaking point. I had plans to finally take a half day, something I hadn’t done in months. My best friend was visiting, and I was so excited to leave early and actually spend some time with her. But right before I was about to leave, my manager called me into her office. She asked me to stay late—again. There was a “crucial” report that needed finishing, and no one else could do it.

I should have said no. I should have told her I had plans and that I’d already done more than my fair share this week. But instead, I froze. I could feel the words forming in my head, but they wouldn’t come out. All I managed was a weak, “Okay, I guess I can.”

So there I was, sitting at my desk until 8 p.m., missing dinner with my friend, and feeling this sinking pit in my stomach. As I worked, all I could think was, Did I deserve this? Am I really just someone who always puts themselves last?

That night, when I got home, my friend could tell I was upset. I told her what happened, and she said something that stuck with me. “You know, it’s okay to say no. You’re allowed to respect your own time and your own needs. If you don’t, no one else will.”

She was right. I realized I had been saying yes to everyone else for so long that I’d forgotten how to say yes to myself. I’d let people pile work on me, let them assume I’d always be available, because I thought that was what being “nice” or “reliable” meant. But somewhere along the way, I lost my self respect.

It hit me hard because, deep down, I know I deserve better. I deserve to have boundaries, to value my own time and energy just as much as I value other people’s. But knowing that and actually acting on it are two different things. It’s scary to stand up for yourself, especially when you’re so used to putting everyone else first. What if they get mad? What if they think I’m selfish?

This week, I decided to try something different. When another coworker asked me to take on their workload because they were “too busy,” I took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t this time. I have my own deadlines to meet.” My heart was pounding as I said it, but you know what? They didn’t get mad. They just nodded and figured it out themselves. It was such a small moment, but it felt huge to me. For once, I chose to respect my own limits instead of pushing them aside for someone else.

I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out. There are still moments where I catch myself falling back into old habits, saying yes when I really want to say no. But I’m learning that self respect isn’t about being perfect or getting it right all the time. It’s about recognizing your own worth and reminding yourself that you deserve kindness and consideration too—even from yourself.

If you’ve ever felt like you’re stuck in this cycle of putting others first at the expense of your own well-being, I get it. It’s hard to break out of that mindset, especially when you’ve been in it for so long. But trust me, it’s worth it. The more you respect yourself, the more others will respect you too.

I’m not sure where this journey will take me, but I know one thing for sure: I don’t want to feel like I did last Friday ever again. It’s time to start saying yes to myself. Because at the end of the day, self respect isn’t something anyone can give you—it’s something you have to choose for yourself.

I don’t even know how to start this, but it’s been bothering me for a while now. I keep asking myself, why don’t people like me? Like, what am I doing wrong? I try to be nice to everyone, but it feels like no one really wants to be my friend. And honestly, it’s starting to feel really lonely.

In school, it’s like I’m invisible most of the time. I’ll sit with people during lunch or in class, but I’m never the one they actually talk to. It’s always someone else. When I try to join the conversation, it’s like they don’t even hear me, or they just give me this fake smile and move on. I can’t tell if it’s something I said or if there’s just something about me that makes people not want to hang out with me.

I thought maybe I’m too quiet or awkward, so I tried being more outgoing. Last week, I went to this party that I wasn’t even sure I was invited to (I overheard someone talking about it and decided to just show up). I tried talking to a group of people, but they kept looking at their phones or each other like they were waiting for me to stop talking. One of them even got up and walked away while I was mid-sentence. It was so embarrassing. I ended up leaving early and crying in my car for like an hour.

My mom keeps telling me, “Just be yourself, and the right people will like you.” But what if being myself is the problem? Maybe I’m just boring, or annoying, or too weird for people to care about. I mean, I see other people with their huge friend groups, laughing and posting about all the fun stuff they do together, and I just feel so... left out. It’s like there’s this secret code to making friends, and I didn’t get the memo.

Sometimes, I wonder if people even notice me at all. Like, if I wasn’t there, would they even care? Or would they just go on like nothing happened? And if this was a reality show, what would people think of me? Would they feel bad for me, or would they be laughing at how pathetic I look trying to fit in where I obviously don’t belong? Maybe they’d just fast-forward through my scenes because I’m not “interesting” enough.

I’ve tried to figure out what I’m doing wrong. Maybe it’s the way I talk? Or the fact that I don’t know how to make jokes like other people? Or maybe I come across as too desperate? I don’t even know anymore. I feel like I’m trying so hard to get people to like me, and it’s just making things worse.

It’s not like I haven’t tried making friends. I’ve joined clubs, gone to events, and even reached out to people online. But nothing ever really clicks. People will talk to me for a little while, but then they stop responding or just fade away. I don’t want to seem clingy, so I stop trying, but then I feel even lonelier. It’s like this never-ending cycle that I can’t escape.

I wish I could just stop caring. Like, who needs friends anyway, right? But the truth is, I do care. I want to have people I can talk to, hang out with, and just feel like I matter to someone. But no matter what I do, it feels like I’m stuck on the outside looking in.

If anyone’s reading this and has felt the same way, what did you do? How do you stop feeling like you’re not good enough? Or better yet, how do you get people to like you without feeling like you’re begging for their attention?

And if this really was a reality show, what would people say about me? Would they see someone who’s trying too hard and laugh, or would they actually feel bad for me? Honestly, I don’t even know anymore. I just want to feel like I belong somewhere. Is that really too much to ask?

Ugh, I don’t even know where to start. Honestly, I hate my family right now, and I feel bad even saying that, but it’s true. They just don’t get me at all, and it feels like every single thing I do turns into a huge fight. It’s like they’re just waiting for me to mess up so they can jump all over me.

Take last night, for example. My mom asked me to clean my room, and yeah, it was a bit messy, but it’s my room, right? Why does she care so much if there’s clothes on the floor? I said I’d do it later, but she kept yelling about how I’m lazy and don’t respect her. Then my dad joined in, saying how I’m always on my phone and never help out around the house. Like, okay, sorry I have a life? It’s not like I’m doing nothing all day—I have school, homework, and trying to keep up with my friends.

And my siblings? Don’t even get me started. My younger brother is the golden child who can do no wrong. He gets away with everything. If he leaves his stuff lying around, no one cares. But if I do it? Suddenly it’s the end of the world. My older sister is just as bad. She’s constantly acting like she’s better than me, always pointing out what I’m doing wrong. “Why don’t you get better grades like I did?” or “You’re so dramatic, you just want attention.” Like, yeah, thanks for the support.

It’s not just the little things either. It’s like they don’t even try to understand me. Every time I want to talk about something that’s bothering me, they either brush it off or turn it into a lecture. One time I told my mom how stressed I was about school, and instead of helping, she went on about how I need to stop procrastinating and “take responsibility.” I wasn’t even procrastinating! I just needed someone to listen, but nope, all I got was more pressure.

They also have these ridiculous rules that make no sense. Like, why do I have to be home by 9:00 PM on weekends? All my friends get to stay out later, but if I even ask, they just say, “Our house, our rules.” It’s like they don’t trust me at all. And don’t get me started on my phone—they’re always checking it and asking who I’m texting. It’s so embarrassing. Can’t I have any privacy?

The worst part is that they act like they’re doing all this because they care, but it doesn’t feel like caring. It feels like they just want to control everything I do. And then, when I get upset or try to defend myself, they tell me I’m being “disrespectful” or “ungrateful.” How am I supposed to be grateful when they make me feel like this all the time?

Sometimes, I just want to run away. I know that’s dramatic, but I can’t help thinking about it when things get really bad. Like, what if I could just live on my own, do what I want, and not have to deal with all this? If this was a reality show, I wonder what people would think. Would they see me as the bratty teenager who’s overreacting, or would they realize how impossible my family makes everything? Probably the first one, knowing my luck.

I know deep down that they probably don’t mean to make me feel like this, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I just wish they’d actually listen to me instead of always assuming they’re right. I want to feel like I matter, like my opinions and feelings are worth something, but right now, it just feels like I’m constantly being judged and criticized.

Does anyone else feel this way about their family? Am I the only one who feels like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough? I know people say “family is everything,” but what are you supposed to do when it feels like they’re the ones making your life harder?

I don’t really have companions because, truthfully, I never tried much to make them. It seems I’ve lived isolated for the most of my life. I do have a family—my parents are around—but beyond that, I’m on my own. As a kid, I was the shy one, and over the years, that shyness turned into a preference for solitude. It’s as if I constructed my own quiet little world and, oddly enough, I don’t seem to crave the company of friends as much as one might think.

However, there's something I crave far more than friendship – and that's affection. I don't harbor any ill will towards people. I’m certainly not a misanthrope. Yet, there’s a longing in me to experience simple human affection, like holding hands with a girl, or perhaps even sharing a gentle kiss. These are the modest desires I pine for, the chance to build an intimate connection from such tender beginnings.

Despite painting myself as somewhat righteous in these matters, I worry that my lack of a social circle might turn off potential romantic interests. Maybe it won't be an outright rejection, but there could be a hint of suspicion, a wariness that might eventually push her away. The thought lingers that this might lead to me spending my final years alone, without ever having known intimacy.

How would this scenario play out if I were thrown into the dramatic world of a reality show? Cameras recording every moment of my solitude, the audience witnessing my awkward attempts at human connection—could the added pressure provoke sympathy or ridicule? Would they see my loneliness as a peculiar quirk or a relatable struggle?

If the public were to step into my shoes through the lens of reality TV, I wonder if it could change their perception. Maybe they would cheer for my small victories or feel the sting of my setbacks. Either scenario is daunting yet strangely alluring.

I'm 15 and recently became sexually active, I thought it was okay to not use condoms because I'm on the pill but I found out I've been taking my pill incorrectly and I'm now scared I could be pregnant 🤟

I don’t even know where to begin with this. I’ve been with my boyfriend for almost three years, and lately, I’ve started to question everything. At first, he was so charming—he could make anyone laugh, had this way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world. But over time, things started changing, and now I wonder if he’s actually... well, a narcissist.

It’s like he’s got two sides. One moment he’s telling me how much he loves me, and the next, he’s criticizing everything I do, from the way I cook to the people I hang out with. He never seems to take any responsibility for things that go wrong. If we argue, it’s somehow always my fault, and if I try to stand up for myself, he twists things around until I’m the one apologizing. I used to think it was just his way of dealing with stress, but it’s been years now, and nothing seems to change.

A few months ago, I tried to talk to him about how I was feeling. I told him I felt like he only cared about his own needs and didn’t see me as an equal partner. I thought maybe this would be a wake-up call for him, but he just laughed it off, saying I was overreacting and too “emotional.” Since then, things have only gotten worse. It’s like he’s always testing me, seeing how much he can get away with.

I’ve started to read about narcissism, and the signs are all there—the lack of empathy, the need for control, the manipulations. It hurts to think about him like that, but it also feels like the truth I’ve been avoiding. I’m at a point where I don’t know if he can ever change. I’ve read stories online about narcissists changing, but they all seem too good to be true. Can a narcissist really change? Or am I just hoping for something that will never happen?

Sometimes, I feel like I’m stuck in a never-ending episode of a reality show, where everyone’s watching this trainwreck unfold and wondering why I’m still here. If this was really a reality show, I wonder what people would think of me. Would they understand, or would they just think I’m foolish for hoping he’ll be different?

So, here I am, putting this out there because I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve always been a bit socially awkward, but lately, it feels like it’s getting worse. It’s like no matter what I do or where I go, I just end up embarrassing myself or feeling out of place. It’s exhausting.

Take last weekend, for example. I went to a party with some friends, thinking it would be fun and maybe I’d finally feel like I fit in. But the second I got there, it was like all my confidence disappeared. I couldn’t seem to keep up with conversations, and when I did talk, I’d say something weird or just... wrong. It’s like my brain and mouth don’t get along when I’m in social settings. At one point, someone asked me a simple question, and instead of answering normally, I just kinda froze and mumbled something incoherent. The look on their face was enough to make me want to hide for the rest of the night.

And don’t even get me started on small talk. I have no idea how people manage it so effortlessly. I either ask a weird question or end up making some offhand comment that just makes things awkward. I try to tell myself it’s not a big deal, but these moments replay in my head for days, making me wonder if I’m ever gonna get the hang of this. I mean, is there some secret trick everyone knows except me?

It’s frustrating because I want to be part of things, but my socially awkward side keeps holding me back. It’s like I’m constantly watching myself mess up from the outside. Sometimes, I wonder if this was a reality show, would people be laughing at my awkwardness or maybe even cringing? I just want to know if anyone else feels like this, or am I just alone in my own socially awkward world?

I never thought I’d feel this way, but here I am, completely heartbroken. It’s been two weeks since she ended things, and it still feels unreal. We were together for almost four years, and I honestly thought she was the one. We had so many plans—talking about moving in, maybe even getting married someday. But now, all of that is just... gone.

She said she needed "space" and that she wasn’t happy anymore, but she never really explained why. I’ve been replaying every moment in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Did I not show her enough love? Was I too much? Or maybe she just fell out of love with me, and there’s nothing I could have done. I guess I’ll never know.

The worst part is all the little reminders of her everywhere. The playlist she made me still comes on sometimes, and I can’t bring myself to delete it. Her favorite coffee mug is still in my kitchen, and I haven’t had the courage to move it. It’s like everything in my life right now is just one big reminder that she’s not here anymore.

My friends tell me it’ll get better with time, but honestly, I don’t see how. How do you move on from someone who was such a huge part of your life? I’m trying to keep myself busy—going to the gym, meeting up with people—but it all just feels so empty.

I hate feeling this way, but I don’t even know where to start. Has anyone else been through something like this? How do you stop feeling so heartbroken when the person you love is gone? I just want to feel normal again. 😥

I’m a 16 year old that is going through a tough time. I’m currently experiencing immense and persistent feelings if stress,guilt,frustration,shame,sadness,hopelessness,worthlessness,disgustand anger. I’m also suicidal,self loathing and experiencing low self-esteem,low self-worth, and the desire to have not been born/ exist. Most of these feelings I am experiencing because of some awful mistakes I did when I was younger especially when I was 12. The awful mistakes I made are related to sexual behavior and I feel like what I did is illegal. I am constantly being tormented by remembering these awful mistakes. I am avoidant to taking accountability because I am scared I am scared of my future, I am scared of possibly not achieving my dreams of becoming an astronomer, and I’m scared of losing ny friends and family. I feel like a fake person and a hypocrite I act completely different on the outside but on the inside it’s a completely different story. I feel the need to distance my self from everyone and cut off friends. I don’t want to pose any unnecessary harm by continuing the relationships I have with my loved ones. I feel undeserving of the friends I have and the relationships I have with my family.i don’t deserve any support I don’t deserve sympathy,empathy, or care. I feel disgusted just thinking about how my friends and family have a relationship with a disgusting person like me, and I feel like Ive ruined my life and that there is no redemption for me. I constantly create scenarios in my head of going to juvie or losing friends and family. I hate myself so much for doing those acts so much I feel like I deserve all of this pain and suffering. I don’t want to accept myself let alone consider myself a functioning member of society. I am an outcast now. I constantly ask myself “why did I do that?” “Why couldn’t I have been a normal 12 year old? “why did I have to act like an irrational animal?“ I wish I could go back in time and made better decisions. I am constantly worrying about other people’s thoughts about me too if my past mistakes were to come to life. I worry if they would be sympathetic or not. I worry if I will be disliked by others and hated. I haven’t told anyone about this irl as I am scared to have a scary conversation about it and I am scared of the situation getting worse.

Ok so I’m gonna try and explain this the best I can but honestly don’t know if it’s gonna make sense. Lately, been thinking a lot about why I have like, commitment issues. Like why can’t I just be normal in a relationship? Every time things start getting serious, it’s like I freak out and just... want to run. It’s not like I don’t like the person or whatever but something about it just makes me feel trapped or suffocated.

So yeah, was dating this guy (let’s call him Jason) for like 6 months. Everything was good at first. We would go out, have fun, all that cute couple stuff you see in movies. But then one day he starts talking about “our future.” Like where we’re gonna live, getting a dog, even marriage. And I swear, felt like I couldn’t breathe. My head just started screaming like get out now. Sounds dramatic but that’s literally how it felt.

After that convo, started pulling back. Didn’t text him as much or made excuses not to hang out. Obviously, he noticed and asked me what was going on. And you know what I said? NOTHING. Just stared at him like an idiot because how do you even explain that you have commitment issues without sounding crazy?? Who wants to hear “yeah I like you but the idea of being with you forever lowkey freaks me out”? He’d probably think I’m a psycho.

Anyway, ended up ghosting him. Not proud of it but didn’t know what else to do. He texted me a few times asking if we could talk but just ignored it. Now he’s blocked and honestly feel like the worst person ever. Like, Jason didn’t even do anything wrong. It’s all me.

Started googling “commitment issues” and omg it’s like reading about myself. Apparently, it can come from stuff like childhood trauma or being scared of getting hurt. Didn’t have a horrible childhood or anything, but my parents got divorced when I was 10 so maybe that’s it? Don’t know. Just know that every time someone tries to get close, it’s like I start pushing them away.

And it’s not even just romantic relationships either. Even with friends, keep people at arm’s length. Will hang out and have fun but if someone starts calling me their “best friend” or talks about going on a trip together, it’s like I start making excuses. Can’t handle anyone depending on me for too long.

Wish I could fix it but no idea where to start. Therapy maybe? But the idea of opening up to a stranger about all this stuff kind of freaks me out too lol. Ugh, it’s like a never-ending cycle of pushing people away and then feeling lonely af.

If anyone’s reading this and has advice, please share. How do you get over commitment issues?? Because at this point, tired of sabotaging every good thing in my life.

Okay, so I really don’t know what to do right now. I’ve been dating my boyfriend for like, almost a year, and it’s been good, i guess? But lately, I keep asking myself this one question over and over: Should I break up with my boyfriend? And the fact that I’m even asking that makes me feel terrible because it’s not like he’s done something super wrong or anything. It’s just... ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it.

First of all, he’s not a bad guy or whatever. Like, he’s super sweet sometimes, and when we first started dating, he’d do all these cute things, like sending me good morning texts or surprising me with snacks during lunch. But now? It’s like he’s stopped trying. He doesn’t text me first anymore, barely even asks how I’m doing, and when we hang out, he’s always on his phone playing stupid games. It’s like I’m not even there half the time. I’ve tried talking to him about it, but he just says, “I’m busy” or “I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Like, hello?? I’m your girlfriend. Shouldn’t you care how i feel?

Then there’s the whole jealousy thing. He gets SO jealous over the dumbest stuff. Like last week, I was just talking to one of my guy friends at school—literally just talking—and later, he was all moody and weird about it. He kept saying stuff like, “Why were you laughing so much with him?” and “You don’t act like that around me anymore.” Like, excuse me? I can have friends! It’s so exhausting trying to constantly reassure him that I’m not cheating or whatever.

But at the same time, I feel bad even thinking about breaking up because I know he cares about me. Like, he’s the type of guy who would defend me if someone was being mean or walk me home if it’s late. And there are moments where I still feel like he loves me, you know? Like, the other day, he randomly brought me coffee because I had a bad day at school. Stuff like that makes me think maybe I’m just overthinking all this and being too harsh on him. But then, the next day, he’ll do something that makes me so frustrated, and I’m right back to wondering if I should break up with him.

It doesn’t help that everyone around me seems to have an opinion. My best friend keeps telling me I deserve better and that if he’s making me feel like this, then I should just end it. But then some of my other friends are like, “Relationships have ups and downs, and you just have to work through them.” So which one is it? Am I supposed to just stick it out and hope it gets better, or is this a sign that it’s time to let go?

Oh, and my parents don’t even like him. They think he’s “too immature” and that I could be focusing on school instead of dealing with boyfriend drama. And honestly? Sometimes I think they might be right. I feel like I spend more time stressing about this relationship than actually enjoying it. But does that mean I should break up with him? Or does every couple go through stuff like this?

The thing is, I do care about him. I really do. But I also feel like I’m losing myself a little bit in this relationship. Like, I used to hang out with my friends all the time and do fun stuff after school, but now it’s like everything revolves around him. If he’s in a bad mood, it ruins my whole day. If he’s happy, I feel like I can finally relax. It’s exhausting, and I don’t know if that’s normal or if I’m just stuck in something unhealthy.

Ugh, I feel like I’m rambling, but I seriously don’t know what to do. Part of me is scared to break up with him because what if I regret it? What if I realize I made a huge mistake, and by then, it’s too late? But then the other part of me is like, what if staying with him means I keep feeling this way? I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I wasted all this time on someone who doesn’t make me happy.

If you’ve ever felt like this, please tell me what you did. Did you break up, or did you try to work things out? How do you even know if it’s time to end things? Right now, I just feel so confused and stuck. I mean, I like him, but do I like him enough to keep dealing with all this? And if I’m already asking myself, “Should I break up with my boyfriend?” does that mean deep down I already know the answer?

As a father of four kids, you’d think I’d have the patience of a saint by now, but that’s just not the case. The tiniest things set me off, and I hate the way it feels. I love my family more than anything, but there are days when I catch myself snapping over something completely ridiculous and wonder what’s wrong with me.

Take last night, for example. Dinner time at our house is always chaotic. Plates clatter, someone spills their drink, and there’s a constant battle over who gets the last roll. It’s the usual stuff, and I know it’s part of having a big family, but when my youngest accidentally knocked over the salt shaker for the third time in a week, I lost it. I raised my voice, and the look on her face—pure shock—hit me like a punch to the gut. It was just salt. Why couldn’t I just laugh it off like my wife did? Instead, I made her feel bad for a mistake that didn’t matter.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not the big issues that get to me—it’s the little, everyday stuff. Toys left in the hallway, a sock that doesn’t have a match, a crayon mark on the wall... all of it feels like tiny needles poking at me until I can’t hold it in anymore. And when I snap, I immediately regret it. I see the way my kids look at me, the way my wife sighs and shakes her head, and I know I’m the one in the wrong.

I’ve been trying to figure out where this anger is coming from. It’s not like I want to feel this way. I don’t wake up thinking, Gee, I can’t wait to get annoyed at the world today. But by the time the day’s over, I’m worn out. Between work, bills, chores, and keeping up with four kids, it’s like my patience tank runs dry way too fast. It doesn’t take much to set me off after that.

I think part of it is the pressure I put on myself to keep everything together. I want to be a good dad, a good husband, and someone my family can rely on. But when things don’t go the way I expect—when the house is messy, or the kids are fighting, or dinner gets burned—it feels like I’m failing. And instead of dealing with that feeling, I let it boil over into anger.

Another part of it is how I grew up. My dad was the same way. He’d get angry over the smallest things—a shoe left out of place, a door left open, the TV being too loud. Back then, I swore I’d never be like that, but here I am, falling into the same patterns. Maybe it’s something I picked up without realizing it, but that doesn’t make it okay. I don’t want my kids to remember me as the dad who yelled over spilled milk.

I’ve started trying to be more aware of my triggers. Like, when I feel that frustration bubbling up, I try to pause and ask myself, Is this really worth getting upset over? Sometimes it works, but other times, it’s like the anger is faster than my logic. I know I need to find better ways to cope, but it’s hard to break a habit that feels so ingrained.

My wife has been incredibly patient through all of this. She’s the calm one in the family, the one who can laugh off the chaos and remind me to do the same. The other day, after I got upset about a broken remote control, she pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. It’s okay if things aren’t perfect.” I know she’s right, but letting go of that control is easier said than done.

The hardest part is the guilt. After I’ve calmed down, I think about how my kids must see me in those moments, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want them to feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me. I want them to feel safe, to know that mistakes are okay and that their dad loves them no matter what. But when I let my anger take over, I’m sending the opposite message.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I want you to know you’re not alone. Being a parent is hard, and we’re all just trying to do the best we can. But I also know that getting angry over little things isn’t fair—to ourselves or to the people we love. It’s something I’m working on every day, and if you’re struggling with it too, maybe we can figure it out together.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know this: I don’t want to keep asking myself, why do I get so angry over little things? I want to find a way to let go, to focus on what really matters, and to be the kind of dad my kids can look up to. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I think acknowledging the problem is the first step.

Here’s hoping the next time the salt shaker falls, I can just laugh it off and keep going. Because in the end, it’s not about the salt—it’s about the love and chaos that comes with being part of a big, messy, wonderful family.

Growing up, I always thought being part of a group meant you’d never feel lonely. But even when I’m surrounded by people—at work, with friends, or even family gatherings—I can’t shake the feeling that I’m on the outside looking in. It’s not like anyone is outright mean or tells me I don’t belong. It’s more subtle than that, but it hurts all the same.

Take last weekend, for example. A group of friends from work decided to get together for dinner. We’ve been working on the same team for years, and I thought I was close to them. But when I showed up, it felt like I was invisible. They were laughing about inside jokes, swapping stories from a night out I wasn’t part of, and talking about upcoming plans I hadn’t even heard about. I smiled, nodded, and pretended it didn’t bother me, but by the end of the night, I couldn’t wait to leave. The ride home was the worst. All I could think about was why they hadn’t thought to include me before—or why I couldn’t seem to fit in no matter how hard I tried.

It’s the same story with my family sometimes. During holiday dinners, my siblings will chat about things they’ve done together—movie nights, road trips, little moments I wasn’t a part of. It’s not like they’re trying to exclude me, but I always end up feeling like an afterthought. Even when I try to join the conversation, it doesn’t take long before it drifts back to something I can’t relate to. I sit there, smiling politely, feeling more and more like I don’t belong.

What’s frustrating is that I’ve tried so hard to be part of things. I’ve reached out, suggested plans, and done everything I can to show that I want to be included. Sometimes it works, but more often than not, I feel like I’m forcing myself into spaces where I’m not really wanted. And that feeling of not being wanted? It’s worse than being alone.

i’ve started to wonder if it’s something about me that pushes people away. Am I too quiet? Too awkward? Or maybe I just don’t have that magnetic personality some people seem to have—the kind that draws others in effortlessly. I wish I knew the answer because, honestly, I’m tired of feeling like this.

At work, it’s even harder. I see coworkers chatting easily during breaks, planning lunch together, or sharing little moments that bring them closer. Meanwhile, I’m sitting there, trying not to look like I care too much while eating lunch alone at my desk. It’s not like I expect to be everyone’s best friend, but being left out all the time feels like a constant reminder that I’m just... different.

I try to remind myself that it’s not always personal. People get busy.. They form closer bonds with certain people for no particular reason. But logic doesn’t make the sting any less real when you’re scrolling through social media and see the photos of the dinner you weren’t invited to, the group trip you didn’t even know about, or the inside joke you’re not in on.

The worst part is how isolating it feels. You want to talk to someone about it, but how do you say, “I feel left out,” without sounding overly sensitive or needy? Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this loop of pretending it doesn’t bother me while quietly wishing things were different.

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. Plenty of people have probably felt left out at one time or another. But when it happens again and again, it starts to feel like a pattern you can’t break. I keep telling myself that I need to focus on the people who do make me feel included and the moments where I genuinely belong, but it’s easier said than done.

I don’t have a neat ending to this story because it’s something I’m still figuring out. Some days, I feel hopeful—like maybe I’ll find my place, my people, and everything will click. Other days, it’s harder, and the loneliness feels heavier. But if there’s one thing I’m learning, it’s that belonging isn’t always about fitting perfectly into someone else’s group. Sometimes, it’s about creating your own space where you feel seen and valued.

So, here’s to figuring it out—one awkward moment, one brave step at a time. If you’ve ever felt like this, just know you’re not alone. And maybe, just maybe, the people who matter most are waiting to find us, too.

I never thought my life would end up like this—fighting over every little thing with someone I used to love. The divorce has been dragging on for over a year now, and it feels like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. At first, I was angry, then sad, but now? Now I just want to know how to stop caring. How do you let go of something that consumes your every waking thought?

It started off civil enough—or at least, that’s what I told myself. We agreed to “keep things amicable” for the sake of our kids, but that plan went out the window as soon as lawyers got involved. Suddenly, it wasn’t about splitting things fairly—it was about who could one-up the other. I can’t even count how many sleepless nights I’ve had, going over emails from my lawyer or replaying arguments in my head.

The worst part is how personal it’s become. It’s not just about the house, the finances, or custody. It’s the way she twists every little thing I’ve done into some grand narrative about how I’m the villain. At first, I tried defending myself, writing long rebuttals to every accusation, hoping to prove my side of the story. But no matter what I said, it didn’t matter. The attacks kept coming, and all I got in return was more frustration and legal bills piling up.

My lawyer told me the same thing over and over: “Don’t let it get to you. Focus on the facts.” Easy for them to say—they don’t have to live with the emotional fallout. But they’re right. The constant back-and-forth has been eating me alive, and it’s gotten to the point where I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’ve become bitter, snappy with the kids, and consumed by stress. This isn’t who I want to be.

So, how do you stop caring? I wish I had a perfect answer, but I’ve been trying a few things. First, I’ve stopped reacting to every little provocation. Not every battle is worth fighting, and sometimes, silence really is the best response. It’s not about letting her “win” but about protecting my own peace.

Second, I’ve started focusing on what I can control. I can’t change her behavior or the things she says, but I can choose how I respond. Instead of dwelling on her accusations, I’ve been trying to put my energy into being there for my kids. They don’t need to see me angry and broken—they need a dad who’s present and strong.

Lastly, I’ve started therapy. I was hesitant at first because, honestly, I didn’t want to admit I needed help. But talking to someone who isn’t involved has been a game-changer. It’s helped me process my feelings and realize that letting go doesn’t mean I’m giving up. It just means I’m choosing to move forward.

This divorce has taken so much from me already—time, money, and peace of mind. I don’t want it to take any more. Learning how to stop caring doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything. It just means I’m choosing not to let this define me anymore. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the first step to really moving on.

I’ve been dating my current GF for about a year now. I do love her and we were friends for a few years before we started dating. But she recently told me that she is ace(asexual). I want to be physically intimate in that way with the person I am dating, but I thought I could give that up to stay with her.

Now that I’ve given it some more thought however if things become more serious between us then I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life with a partner who isn’t physically attracted to me in that way.

But if I do break up with her I’m afraid I might lose her as a friend as well. I don’t have very many other people in my life outside of my family who I am close with, and after recently losing some close family members I am hesitant to lose another person who I care about. My GF is also going through a rough time lately and the last thing I want to do is add a breakup on top of that.

I don’t really know what to do in this situation, and I also don’t know if I’m selfish for wanting to end the relationship over this. If anyone has any advice I would very much appreciate it.

So, here’s the deal. I graduated last year, got my degree, did all the “right” things, and landed what was supposed to be a great job. You know, the kind of job everyone says you should feel lucky to have. But here I am, only six months in, and all I can think is, I want to quit my job.

Honestly, I feel like such a failure for even thinking about it. Everyone was so proud of me when I got this position—my parents, my friends, even my professors. It felt like this huge milestone, like i’d finally “made it.” But the reality? It’s so different from what I thought it’d be.

First off, the job itself is... boring. Like, mind-numbingly boring. All day, I’m just sitting at a desk, staring at spreadsheets, answering emails, and pretending to care about these endless meetings where nothing ever gets decided. I thoughtt I’d be doing something meaningful, or at least interesting, but instead, it feels like I’m just going through the motions.

And the worst part? The people. Everyone’s so serious all the time. No one jokes around or seems to actually like being there. It’s like they’ve all accepted this weird, soul-sucking reality, and I’m the only one who’s questioning it. I try to bring some energy, maybe lighten the mood, but it’s like I’m speaking a different language.

Then there’s my boss. Don’t even get me started. They’re not a bad person, but they micromanage everything. It’s like they don’t trust me to do anything on my own, which is ironic because I was hired for my “initiative” and “problem-solving skills.” I thought this job would give me the freedom to learn and grow, but instead, it feels like I’m being babysat 24/7.

I keep telling myself, “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I need to adjust or give it more time.” But how much time am I supposed to give before I realize it’s not going to get better? My friends keep telling me I’m lucky to even have a job, especially in this economy, but does that mean I just have to suck it up and stay miserable?

What really gets me is how much this job is affecting the rest of my life. I’m constantly stressed, even on weekends. I’m too drained to hang out with friends or do the things I used to love. I’ve even started dreading Monday mornings before Sunday is even over. It’s like this job is stealing all my energy, and I don’t have anything left for myself.

I know quitting isn’t an easy decision. I’ve got bills to pay, and let’s be real, I don’t have some amazing Plan B waiting in the wings. But the idea of staying here for years, or even just one more year, makes me feel so trapped. Like, is this really what my life is supposed to look like now? Because if it is, I’m not sure I’m okay with that.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m being too idealistic. Maybe this is just what “adulting” is—grinding through a job you hate because that’s what responsible people do. But part of me thinks that can’t be true. There has to be more to life than this, right?

If this was a reality show, I wonder what people would say about me. Would they think I’m just some spoiled millennial who doesn’t know how to work hard? Or would they understand where I’m coming from? Because right now, I feel like I’m the only one questioning if this whole system is even worth it.

Okay, so this is super embarrassing, but I really need to get it off my chest. There’s this guy I’ve been crushing on for literally forever, and now I can’t stop thinking about him even though I know nothing is ever going to happen. Like, how do you even get over someone you never dated? It feels so dumb, but it hurts just as bad as if we’d broken up or something.

We met at this summer job last year, and at first, it was just small talk. But then, I don’t know, he’d always smile at me or laugh at my jokes, and I thought maybe he liked me back? I started imagining us hanging out, going on dates, all that cute couple stuff. Except none of it ever actually happened. He was super friendly to everyone, and I guess I wasn’t really special to him, even though he felt so special to me.

I didn’t even realize how deep I’d fallen until I saw him post a picture with another girl on his Instagram last week. It wasn’t even a super romantic picture or anything, but she was tagging him in all her stories, and they looked so happy together. My stomach legit dropped when I saw it. That’s when it hit me: he’s never going to see me that way. He probably never did.

So now, here I am, feeling like an idiot. It’s not like I can call it a breakup or cry to my friends about how “we” didn’t work out. There wasn’t a “we” to begin with. But it still hurts, you know? Like, why am I this upset over someone who probably never thought twice about me?

I keep replaying all the times we talked, trying to figure out if I just read the signals wrong or if I was just imagining the whole thing. Maybe I got carried away because I wanted it to be true so bad. And now, I feel so stupid because he’s out there living his life, completely unaware of how much space he’s been taking up in my head.

I tried all the “tips” people give for getting over someone. I deleted his number, unfollowed him on social media, and started distracting myself with other stuff like school and hanging out with friends. But no matter what I do, he’s still there, popping into my head at the most random times. Like, I’ll hear a song or see something that reminds me of him, and it’s like I’m back to square one.

What’s worse is that I feel so alone in this. Everyone else is dealing with real breakups, real relationships, and here I am, crying over a guy who doesn’t even know I feel this way. If this was a reality show, I bet people would just laugh at me. They’d be like, “Why is she making such a big deal over nothing?” And honestly? I’m kind of laughing at myself too.

But it doesn’t change how I feel. If anyone else has gone through this, like crushing on someone so hard and realizing it’s never going to happen, how did you get over it? Because right now, it feels impossible. I just want to stop caring so much about someone who was never really mine.

I don’t even know where to start. Lately, I’ve been feeling so off, like no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to shake this heaviness. Everything feels wrong, and I keep asking myself, why am I so unhappy? On paper, my life isn’t bad. I have a decent job, friends, a place to live. But none of it feels like enough, and it’s driving me crazy.

Every morning, I wake up and feel like I’m already losing the day before it even begins. I hit snooze on my alarm way too many times, not because I’m tired (though I usually am) but because I don’t want to get up. The thought of going to work, dealing with people, and pretending everything’s fine is just... exhausting. By the time I actually drag myself out of bed, I’m already late, which makes me even more frustrated with myself.

At work, it’s the samee routine every day. Emails, meetings, more emails. Everyone around me seems fine—like they’re just going through the motions without a problem. But for me, every task feels like climbing a mountain. I can’t focus, and when I finally get something done, it’s like, “Who cares?” It’s not like anyone notices anyway.

Even my social life feels hollow. I have friends, and we hang out sometimes, but it’s like I’m not really there. We’ll go to dinner, and while they’re all laughing and catching up, I’m just sitting there, forcing a smile and nodding along. Half the time, I don’t even hear what they’re saying because my mind is somewhere else—usually spiraling into some weird loop of self-doubt and overthinking. Then I go home and wonder why I feel so lonely when I was literally just surrounded by people.

My family tries to check in sometimes, but it’s hard to talk to them about this stuff. They always ask, “What’s wrong?” but I don’t have an answer. It’s not like there’s one big thing I can point to and say, “This is why I’m unhappy.” It’s just this constant, nagging feeling that something’s missing. When I try to explain that, they either look at me like I’m being dramatic or tell me I just need to “think positive” and “be grateful.” I get it—they’re trying to help—but it makes me feel even worse, like I’m ungrateful for the life I have.

The worst part is, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I used to have hobbies, things I was passionate about. I loved drawing, hiking, and binge-watching trashy reality TV (ironically, right?). But now? Even the thought of doing those things feels exhausting. I don’t have the energy, and when I try to force myself, it just feels empty. It’s like I’ve lost the spark I used to have, and I don’t know how to get it back.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just broken. Like, maybe this is just who I am—someone who’s always going to feel unhappy no matter what. I’ve tried journaling, meditating, even exercising (though I gave up on that pretty quickly). Nothing seems to work. I’ve thought about going to therapy, but the idea of opening up to a stranger about all this feels overwhelming. What if they can’t help me either? Then what?

I wish I knew what was wrong with me. Is it my job? My relationships? Am I just not cut out for this whole “adulting” thing? I see people my age on social media traveling, getting engaged, starting businesses, and I can’t help but compare myself to them. It feels like everyone else has it figured out, and I’m just... stuck.

hat people would think if my life was a reality show?? Would they see me as the sad, boring character who’s always complaining for no reason? Or would they feel sorry for me, like, “Wow, she really needs to get her life together”? Honestly, I don’t even know which one is worse. Part of me thinks they’d just change the channel because, let’s face it, who wants to watch someone mope around all day?

If anyone out there feels like this too, I’d love to know how you deal with it. how do you stop feeling like you’re just going through the motions? How do you figure out what’s making you so unhappy when everything looks fine on the surface? Because right now, I feel like I’m stuck in this endless cycle, and I don’t know how to break out of it.