For the past three years, my life has been reduced to caring for my 78-year-old mother who has severe cognitive decline. I had to quit my full-time job, move into her spare bedroom, and spend eighteen hours a day managing her medications, cleaning up accidents, and listening to her scream at me because she thinks I am an intruder. I am thirty-two years old and I have no social life, no dating prospects, and zero savings left. My two older brothers live across the country in high-paying corporate roles. They send a hundred dollars once in a while and call on Sunday afternoons for five minutes to give me condescending advice about "being patient with mom." They have no clue what it feels like to spoon-feed pureed soup to someone who stares through you with dead eyes. every single night when I tuck her in and close her bedroom door, I find myself wishing she doesn't wake up the next morning. i feel like an absolute monster the second the thought enters my head. She sacrificed so much for me growing up and she did not choose this illness. But the physical and mental exaustion is completely killing me from the inside. I just want my life back and the guilt is suffocating.

Growing up as the family scapegoat broke something inside me that I haven't been able to fix. My older brother was the golden child who got full private tuition, while I worked two night shifts just to pay for community college and dental work my parents refused to help with. Six months ago, while fixing his old laptop, I found records showing he had systematicaly drained nearly $20,000 from our aging parents' emergency fund to cover bad sports bets. The worst part? It was their entire medical safety net, and he planned to blame our father's declining memory when the money ran out, knowing I'd be the one forced to work overtime to support them. i didn't scream or confront him. I just printed the wire transfers and mailed them anonymously to our parents and his wife. The fallout ruined his marriage and destroyed his reputation. My parents now call me sobbing every night, leaning on me for the first time in my life. Part of me wanted justice, but mostly I just feel completely hollow. I know I shattered his life with a single envelope, but after decades of being treated like garbage I simply had no empathy left to give.

I debated whether or not to even post this, but I'm curious about other people's perspective on this. My pastoral position in my church is important to me, so I'll be changing a few details to keep things sufficiently anonymous. I'm an agnostic atheist. Truthfully, I don't know what lies beyond this life and there's no definitive way to tell at the moment. Given the evidence we do have, I choose to air on the side of atheism. I live in a culturally conservative, somewhat rural area. The people are mostly great. Very friendly and outgoing, always trying to feed you or show you the arrowheads they dug up on their land. It's not a secret that Christian-based authoritarianism is sweeping the United States and has been for many years now, I don't think that's particularly controversial to say. Folks in my community aren't immune to the propaganda, and I noticed a real mean streak starting to form in the town a few years back. At the time, I'd been out of a job for a few months already and was looking to go in a different career direction. I noticed that there was a very close-proximity job listing online for an adult ministry pastor. I've been an avid reader of the Bible for years. Not in a religious way, more in the way one would enjoy Greek myths. I think it's a very intriguing text with plenty of philosophical food for thought. I also believe it to be a work of fiction. And yet, millions of people have based their lives on this text. It's become a part of them. Etched into every facet of their world. It is, in my opinion, a fool's errand to convert these people. You can, however, de-radicalize them. Thanks to my expansive Biblical knowledge and someone genuinely good conversation with my interviewer, I got the job!! I saw a unique opportunity to pull people back from a cliff's edge. To promote kindness, tolerance, and empathy in the minds of people who were, frankly, a cult leader's dream flock. I didn't immediately come in and start "saving souls". In fact, I got a lot of push-back in the first six months or so because I wouldn't condemn whatever boogeyman of the day was keeping FOX News viewers up at night. Instead, I told them that God is clever and knows the hearts of men. He knows that some will follow Him only for the riches waiting for them in the Kingdom of Heaven. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Many will be lead astray by their pride and hardness of heart. I told them that God commands us to love our fellow man and leave the judgment to Him. After all, if we can't embody the kindness, mercy, and generosity of our Savior, how can we possibly expect to eat next to Him at His table? A few people left, most stayed. I preached, yes, but I also got into the principles of Kant, Kierkegaard, and Stuart Mill through the lens of scripture. I explicitly went into Machiavellianism with one of my advanced scripture study classes, drawing parallels with Machiavelli's principles and the propaganda machine that seeks to weaponize their own faith. It really blew some minds! With a little refinement and editing, it's a lesson I now teach in my main sermons. It's like I said before, these folks aren't bad. They don't have cruelty or bigotry coded into their DNA, it's something they've been taught and primed for. When you give them a better alternative, even if it's through their spirituality, most will be glad to embrace it. I broke down crying the other day in front of my congregation. They thought I was overcome with the Spirit, but really, I was just proud of them. So many of them had done real change in their lives. Become better people. Closer to God, as I might say on the pulpit. Over these last few years my religious beliefs haven't changed, but my belief in the goodness of humans has been strengthened immensely. Thanks for reading :)

My younger brother is non-verbal and has severe sensory processing disorder. When he was ten, our parents adopted an older black shorthair cat named Barnaby. That cat was his entire universe. Whenever my brother had violent meltdowns, Barnaby was the only living thing that could calm his nervous system down. In the winter of 2019 while my brother was at a specialized three-week sensory camp, Barnaby suddenly passed away in his sleep from heart failure. My mother was hysterical. She knew that returning home to an empty room would trigger an irrevesible emotional spiral for my brother. i drove across three counties and visited six different animal shelters in forty-eight hours until I found an identical three-year-old black cat with the exact same notched left ear. I brought him home, rubbed his fur in Barnaby's old blankets, and placed him on my brother's bed. When my brother came home, he paused for three seconds, buried his face in the cat's fur, and started purring back at him. It's been five years now. The new cat sleeps on his chest every single night without fail. I feel a sick knot of guilt in my chest every time I watch them together, but I will carry this lie to my grave.

My fiancée left for a two-week work conference across the country fourteen days ago. We’ve been together for five years, living together for three, and our wedding is scheduled for next summer. I was supposed to miss her, count the days, and text her constantly about how empty the apartment felt. i didn't miss her at all. For the past two weeks, I’ve felt a level of calm and relief I haven't experienced in years. The house stayed clean, I cooked whatever I wanted without hearing complaints, and I didn't spend every evening walking on eggshells managing someone else's bad mood or passive-aggressive comments. It was like a fog lifted from my brain. I realized that our entire relasionship is just me exhausting myself trying to keep her happy while slowly losing my own personality. I slept better, laughed more with my friends, and actually enjoyed waking up in the morning. She lands in eight hours and just texted me saying "can't wait to see you babe." My stomach immediately sank into my shoes. I’m sitting on our couch feeling sick because I know the second that front door opens, the suffocating weight is coming right back in. How do you tell someone you love that their absence was the best two weeks of your year?

In middle and high school, this guy made my life an absolute living nightmare. He was the classic privileged athlete who shoved people into lockers, spread vile rumors about kids from poorer families, and once pushed me down a flight of concrete stairs, leaving me with a broken collarbone while his connected parents made sure he got off with a two-day slap on the wrist. Ten years later, he entered local politics. He ran for city council on this obnoxious "family values and integrity" platform, won easily because our town is small, and within three years he was acting like he owned the entire county. He constantly posted smug photos at town hall, flaunting his tailored suits and making speeches about civic virtue. Seeing his punchable face on campaign billboards every morning on my drive to work made my blood boil. Six months ago, the city approved a massive multi-million dollar municipal repaving and drainage project. I work in civil compliance for another county, so looking through public records and city council meeting minutes is practically second nature to me. Out of pure curiosity and spite, I started digging through the municipal procurement portal. It didn't take long to find something completely rotten: the bid had been quietly steered to an LLC that was registered only two weeks prior, listing his brother-in-law as the registered agent, with an inflated budget nearly 40% above the competing bids. He didnt even bother covering his tracks properly because he thought he was untouchable. I spent three weeks meticulously compiling the bidding logs, corporate registry filings, and email timestamps into a clean, unassailable PDF dossier. I bought a cheap burner phone with cash, created an encrypted email account from a public library computer, and sent the entire file to the state ethics board and an aggressive investigative reporter at our regional daily newspaper. Two weeks later, the paper dropped a front-page exposé that blew the lid off the entire operation. The backlash was immediate and brutal. The state launched a formal criminal probe, the mayor publicly demanded his resignation, and he had to step down in total humiliation during a televised city council meeting where he literally broke down crying on camera. Nobody in our town knows who leaked the paperwork, and people in the comments keep speculating that it was an internal rival in city hall. I watched his tearful apology broadcast from my couch while drinking a cold beer, and I have never felt lighter. People say revenge is toxic, but honestly, watching a ruthless bully destroy himself on his own greed was the most satisfying moment of my life.

My grandmother passed away about fourteen months ago. She owned a little two-bedroom lake cabin that my grandfather built by hand in the late 70s. It was the only place during my childhood where I felt truly safe. My mom has been a severe gambling addict for as long as I can remember, she drained her own 401k years ago and took out multiple predatory loans that our extended family had to bail her out of. Grandma was sharp untill the very end. About six months before her health declined, she quietly took me to an estate lawyer and transferred the cabin into an irrevocable trust in my name. She told me point blank: "If your mother gets her hands on this property, it will be lost to the casino before my headstone is set." She made me swear not to say a word. Ever since the memorial service, my mother has been tearing grandma's house apart searching for a will. She is completely obsessed with finding a title deed or some handwritten letter leaving the cabin to her. In her head, she plans to immediately sell the land to "invest in a new start," which everyone in the family knows means sitting at a high-limit blackjack table until the money is gone. She has called county deed offices, accused grandma's hospice nurses of stealing paperwork, and ranted at every single family dinner about "shady attorneys hiding grandma's true wishes." I sit there across the table from her, pouring coffee, nodding sympathetically, and saying things like, "It's so heartbreaking how disorganized her affairs were." I feel like a straight up sociopath sometimes when I look her in the eye and pretend I know nothing while she breaks down crying from stress. But then I remember coming home in high school to find our electricity shut off because she spent the utility bill money on scratch-offs and video poker. If she finds out the deed is legally mine and sitting in my safe deposit box, she will guilt-trip me into selling it or turn the entire family against me for being a traitor. I drive out to the cabin once a month to cut the grass and check the pipes, and I leave my phone on airplane mode the whole time. I will never tell her.

When we split up eighteen months ago, he went on a scorched-earth smear campaign. He told all our mutual friends that I was unhinged, controlling, and emotionally volatile. People I had known for six years suddenly blocked my number, kicked me out of group chats, and treated me like a toxic villain. I wanted to post the receipts, leak our private text threads, and scream the truth. But i chose the hardest path instead: I stayed completely silent, deleted my accounts, and vanished from their circle. Fast forward to last weekend. His new girlfriend—the girl in our friend group who led the charge in canceling me—finally saw who he truly is behind closed doors. He had an unhinged screaming fit outside a crowded lounge, threw a glass at her feet in front of fifteen mutual friends, and smashed her car window. The exact same terrifying violence he used to hide behind my back. Over the last forty-eight hours, four of those former "friends" have sent me paragraphs of weeping apologies, begging to grab coffee so they can "make amends." I left every single message on read, blocked their numbers, and made dinner. They didnt care about the truth until it was screaming in their faces. You don't get to come back now.

My direct manager has been an absolute nightmare for the past six months, constantly taking credit for everyone else's work, publicly shaming people in Slack channels for tiny mistakes, and treating the team like garbage. Everyone was talking about it behind closed doors, but nobody wanted to say anything to HR because he is close friends with the director. Two weeks ago, after he threw a massive fit over a tiny formatting error in a report I spent all weekend fixing, I snapped. I went to a local library near my house, typed up a brutally honest, two-page letter detailing his toxic behavior, poor leadership, and specific instances where he stole credit from team members. I printed it out on basic paper, put it in a plain white envelope, and slipped it onto his desk late on a Friday after almost everyone had gone home. He found it on Monday morning. Ever since then, the office vibe has been completely wild. He is insanely paranoid. He has been scheduling random 1-on-1s trying to gauge people's loyalty, looking over everyone's shoulders, and watching who talks to whom near the coffee machine. The best part is that he actually toned down his screaming matches because he has no idea who wrote it or who else might have a copy. I just sit at my desk, do my job, and watch the chaos unfold.

We’ve been friends since high school. Last year, his wife gave birth to their first child, and almost immediately, he started sleeping with a young intern from his branch office. He didnt even bother hiding it from our private group chat. He would brag about lying to his wife while she was at home struggling with postpartum recovery, sending gross texts about his hotel hookups on "work trips." The other guys in the chat stayed silent or laughed along, but it made me sick to my stomach. i created a throwaway encrypted email, compiled unedited screenshots of his messages and the hotel receipts he bragged about, and sent everything straight to his wife. She filed for divorce two days later, secured full custody, and kicked him out. He currently sleeps on his cousin’s couch and calls me every night crying, begging to know which "snake" betrayed him and destroyed his family. I listen to him sob on speaker while playing video games, tell him "stay strong bro," and hang up with absolutly zero guilt. Some people deserve to lose everything.

We moved in a little over a month ago and it didn't take long at all for me to notice he was just shockingly big downstairs. And it's not like he's always in underwear or something, it shows through most of his pants. And if there was any doubt about me being wrong, I accidentally saw him naked once very briefly and it confirmed it. I really want to be normal and mature about it, but I'm not used to that stuff at all and it's a little overwhelming. It just sucks a little because we get along great and I feel weird being friends with him while that info is taking up so much space in my brain. Thought I'd get used to it, but here we are. It's not even his fault, that's just his body, and he ended living with a girl who can't be normal about body parts being big.

Three years ago my dad was withering away under my stepmom. She had completely isolated him from our family, convinced him to cut my sister and me out of his will, and was quietly draining his retirement account to fund her own gambling habit. He was so depressed and brainwashed that no amount of intervention or evidence worked. One afternoon she left her iPad on the kitchen counter unlocked. I found harmless, slightly flirtatious messages between her and an old college friend from five years back. Nothing explicit, just vague banter. I took screenshots, cropped out the dates and time stamps, and printed them with deliberate gaps so it looked like an ongoing affair. i left the printouts face down on my dad's desk with a short note. It shattered him in the moment, but their prenup had an infidelty clause that completely nullified her financial claims. Within six months the divorce was finalized and she walked away with almost nothing. My dad has his sparkle back, reconnected with his grandkids, and finally has peace. He still thinks an anonymous private investigator sent him those papers. I destroyed a woman's marriage with Photoshop and scissors, and I don't feel a single shred of remorse.

When I was seventeen, our graduating class filled a metal capsule with letters, photos, and small objects. I was angry because the committee rejected my contribution as “too stupid,” so I moved the capsule. I didnt take anything. I buried it beside a different oak tree, maybe fifty metres from the painted marker, then kept quiet when teachers discovered an empty hole. Everyone assumed somebody had stolen it. The school even held a second ceremony with replacement items. Fifteen years later, the original capsule is probably still there. I remember the exact tree, and the school recently announced plans to open it next spring. Part of me wants to send an anonymous map. The other part knows that would reveal someone deliberately moved it. I was a petty teenager, but I’m still letting an entire class believe their memories vanished.

I was adopted at birth in a closed adoption. I’m 19F now. I was adopted by 2 women in love and married with each other. I would say that I my childhood was good for the most part. When I was 16, my moms did get into financial trouble and money became tight. That was the worst period in my life so far. Growing up I didn’t care much about knowing who my biological family were. But when I hit 18 and graduated high school, I actually got curious enough to search. I told my moms and they were supportive and helpful. I found my biological mother. She’s 38. She was my age when she gave birth to me. She told me the story. She had sex with a man 14 years older than her. That relationship resulted in my birth. She grew up poor with undocumented immigrant parents. She had no way of raising me in a stable environment. She informed me that her parents pushed her to get an abortion but her personal views prevented her from going through with it so she put me up for adoption instead. My biological mother lives 3 states over from where I grew up. She is actually a police officer in the city she lives in. 19 years after my birth, she is stable, lives well, has a nice place, and is a better person than she was 19 years ago. The first meeting I had with her, my moms were there. I could tell that my biological mother and my moms wouldn’t get along. After, I told my moms that I’d probably not speak to my biological mother again. That was a lie. I thought my biological mother was a very cool woman. There were 3 times where we met and hung out without my moms knowing. There were a few times she gave me money to help me get by in college when I had little money. I thought of this as a private relationship. It’s my biological mother. She has not tried to replace the women that raised me. But she is the one that gave birth to me. So my relationship with her is my own. I know my moms didn’t like my biological mother that much, so I didn’t tell them. They would be heart broken to learn that I’m calling my biological mother “mom.”

Yesterday evening I was driving back home from a friends house - when I got to the service road that leads to my house, I could see a pick-up turning on to the road up ahead going eastbound (same direction I was going), by the time he got up to speed, I was maybe 5 or 6 car-lengths behind him. We were both going the same speed for maybe a minute or two, then I noticed a cat on the left hand side (westbound lane) of the road up ahead. The cat was starting to cross, then changed it's mind when he saw us coming. I could audibly hear this fucking piece of shit's truck accelerate and SWERVE into the empty westbound lane to purposely hit this poor cat. He clipped the cat so hard it immediately went limp. Just talking about this is increasing my heart rate. Fucking people man. I don't get involved with road rage at all. Have never instantly seen red like I did yesterday while driving. The intense hatred I felt for a complete stranger wasn't a pleasant feeling. Even though it was impossible for him to not know that I saw him, he certainly knew I saw him when I got up behind him and starting laying on the horn and putting my arm out the window pointing for him to pull over. He never did, he just kept on driving. It basically turned into maybe 5 minutes of me following him in a big circle. I ended up turning back around and going back home once some logic started to come back to me. No sense in getting someone else getting hurt because this guy is speeding all over the place trying to shake me. I stopped to check on the cat on the way back, thankfully I was right, it had passed on pretty much instantly and wasn't suffering. The worst part is it had a purple little collar on it with a bell. It was someone's cat. Called the humane society, told them what happened and the guys license plate number. Also filed a police report online (not like he'll see any consequences anyway).. I got the license plate number at least and remembered what truck he was driving. There has to be a higher power, or Karma is real - because I was at my neighbours last night, had a few drinks, and we get to talking about it, he ended up recognizing the truck I was talking about, so he pulled up his phone and went looking, and sure enough he found this guy on the Facebook neighbourhood/ district group page. Apparently he posts a lot on the neighbourhood/ district Facebook group advertising his little car detailing business. There was a few photos of his truck on there too, it was perfect lmao. He goes "yeah, he lives over on ******* with his brother, I went to highschool with his older brother, they've been over there for years". It's like a 30 minute walk.. So I just got back from a nice stroll through the neighbourhood like an 30 min ago with my trusty emergency escape tool - ya never know when you'll need it on a walk, y'know? Anyway, I didn't see any ring cameras or anything, but this guy made it so easy for me, parking on the road. Plus I made sure to check the license plate and dress in a way not to leave identifying features. Got his rear window, rear drivers side and driver's side window. My neighbour is going to let me know if he posts on the Facebook group about his windows. Detail that, bitch. I know there are people that would say that cats are harmful to bird populations (which they are) to somehow defend anyone that would do this sort of thing, But I just don't give a fuck if you're the type of person to purposely go out of your way to hurt or kill an animal, they don't deserve it. It hurts to see because I've always been an animal lover, I've had cats and dogs my whole life, to see them hurt or anything just makes me lose it. Especially when you see it right in front of you. I don't condone what I did, but I will never feel bad for it either. And I'd fuckin do it again. TL;DR : I witnessed a guy purposely speed up and swerve into another lane just so he could run a cat over. He ended up living relatively close to me, so I smashed out his truck windows with an emergency escape tool.

TW: substance abuse First and foremost I would like to make it clear this post will go heavily into substances and my personal experience w substance abuse. I (27F) have a friend (M) in my life that takes Seroquel (quetiapine) to help him sleep at night. Last night I went over to my friends place and had casually mentioned that I haven’t been sleeping well and said friend asked if I wanted to try a pill to help me go to go to sleep when I got home again. I’d like to make it clear: said friend is not someone i distrust. Looking back, hindsight is 20/20 but I truly believe he was not giving this to me for reasons other than I wanted to try them for sleep. He gave me 2 25mg pills and told me he typically takes two to help him sleep - being someone who has had prescribed medication before I truly did not think this would be something that would affect me very much. From here on out I’m going to lay it all on the line: so please if you struggle w substance abuse either comeback to this later or really try and hear me out. I took both of the 25MG pills. At the time of taking them I thought “hey, I’m tired, I’m having a nice chill night. I’m going to watch a movie with my son, make some dinner & go to bed. I took both pills at around 7:00 pm and by 7:30 I was having trouble staying awake and feeling pretty relaxed. Around 8:00pm I’m starting to eat the dinner I was cooking. I was still feeling pretty relaxed and was really enjoying how I felt on 50mg of seroquel, I felt calm, I felt relaxed, I felt good. Nothing was really going on around me other than watching a show on tv and I remember thinking I was content and that possibly chatting w my doc about these meds could help. When I had finished making my dinner I took a bowl into my bedroom and sat in one of those IKEA chairs that kinda bounce (awful explanation but I am hoping someone will get what I mean at least🤣) and ate some food but stared to get super groggy and out of it. TW once again - if you have struggled w an ED, substance abuse or have been in close proximity to a loved one who experienced this I highly HIGHLY recommend reading on at your own risk. ————- As I continued to eat I noticed that my body was not functioning as it normally does. The first thing I noticed was when I was chewing and went to swallow my throat muscles didn’t seem like they were wanting to help me digest my food. The second thing that I noticed was all of a sudden my entire body went numb and I genuinely felt like I was having a dissociative experience. Somehow I kept telling myself that this was not good but panicking would make it worse. Around 4 am I woke up (assuming from passing out; I have zero recollection of falling asleep) to my dog barking at something outside and could barely bring myself to wake up. I knew I had to / wanted to but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. This morning I woke up around 10:30 and felt slightly out of it still but was pretty much “back to normal” I can NOT stress this enough. Do. Not. Take. Prescription. Pills. That. Are. Not. Prescribed. By. YOUR OWN. Physician. I learned my lesson in a very weird way and I am truly thanking something greater than me that I woke up this morning. Thank you for reading, if you got this far - just know your body is truly a temple. Do not take your health or well being for granted EVER. I truly believe I had an experience last night that showed me a very very very hard but good lesson. note to add : first comment on this post made me realize this was an extremely scary situation and I will be seeking physician assistance going forward.

Hey guys, I’m on mobile so sorry if formatting is bad. Also, throwaway account for obvious reasons but I needed to get this off my chest and I’m too embarrassed to admit it to anyone in my real life. I’m 24f and I wasn’t raised with proper hygiene education. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of making sure I’m clean (shower every day, brush teeth, etc) but I saw a video on TikTok this morning about how you need to actually pull the hood back on your lady bits and clean underneath. I had never done that and didn’t know you were even supposed to, so in the shower a few minutes ago, I did. First of all, this is the first time I’m actually seeing my bean and when I pulled the hood back, there was genuinely like calcification or something on the bean. I gently washed it off but it hurt and was very sensitive. Also, the smell was genuinely awful. I am so disgusted with myself and wonder if maybe my chronic UTIs I’ve had my whole teen/adult hood has something to do with not pulling it back and cleaning properly. TLDR I washed under my hood on my bean for the first time and it was disgusting. Anyway, I hope someone can relate. Sorry it’s gross.

Pretty much what the title says… I, 29M, used to work for a small family-owned company in NJ that distributes professional production equipment. Cameras, lights, audio equipment, etc. Their biggest client was Blackmagic Design and they distribute their stuff all over North America. The job itself wasn’t really the problem. The HR situation was. Because the ONLY person in HR was the CEO’s son. Yep. The CEO’s son, 26M. Which I always thought that was kinda weird since immediately finding out, but whatever. It’s a family company. I figured they probably just did things differently. The son in HR worked hybrid for the most part, so I didn’t see him in the office often, but when he did come in, he seemed like a decent guy. And he was REALLY friendly with me. Looking back, overly friendly. At first I didn’t think anything of it. We got along, joked around, normal coworker stuff. Then he started messaging me outside of work. And then the messages started getting weird. He would repeatedly ask me about my personal life, like if I had a girlfriend (I didn’t) and if I’ve ever experimented with men (I never have, and don’t plan to). And then came the d*ck pics. UNSOLICITED d*ck pics. From HR. The whiplash opening that first picture he sent me was quickly followed my nausea, and honestly, anxiety, because what does one do in this situation?? Not only was this the head of HR (and the only person in HR) but he’s also the CEO’s son. And did I mention he had a boyfriend????? Because he did. At first I honestly didn’t even know what the fuck to do. I was uncomfortable, obviously, but I also didn’t want to make a huge thing out of it. Because again…. THIS IS HR. Who am I supposed to report HR to??? THE CEO??? His dad???? So I just tried to deal with it myself. This went on for over a month. Eventually I explicitly told him to stop. Like, there was no ambiguity. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with what he was sending me and I wanted it to stop. And then less than a week later… I got fired :) No real explanation either. I was basically told that my employment was ending, my health insurance would expire in THREE DAYS, and that I wasn’t allowed to talk negatively about the company online. That’s it. No real explanation for why I was being let go. Nothing. So obviously I’m sitting here like…. what the f*ck???? I can’t say I KNOW for a fact that I was fired because I told him to stop. I don’t know what was said behind closed doors. BUT. The timing??? Come on. And honestly, I’ve never felt so violated and disrespected by a workplace before. I spent all this time trying to figure out how I was supposed to handle the situation without making things worse, because the person making me uncomfortable was literally the person who was supposed to be handling employee complaints. And then I get fired. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. That’s where I worked. Maybe I should’ve handled things differently. Maybe I should’ve gone to someone else. I don’t know. But I DO know that I shouldn’t have had to repeatedly tell someone from HR to stop sending me unsolicited pics. Especially when that person is the CEO’s son.

When I was younger, I met a guy in a discord server. We started chatting and I found out he was in his 60’s, but it didn’t bother me because he had been totally normal and respectful and only ever talked. After a couple weeks, he explained that his daughter had cut him out of his life and he didn’t get to see his granddaughter anymore and he missed her. He explained that he was lonely and missed her so much and offered to pay me an allowance weekly to just message him and chat during the day. He never got weird or gross, he was just lonely. He’d ask about my day, help me with homework, gave advice about problems I was dealing with. We spoke for a little over a year, and I genuinely enjoyed talking with him. One day he told me that his health was declining faster than he thought and he was going to be going to The hospital soon, then I just never heard from him again. I genuinely miss him a lot and I think about him all the time.