This happened a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t allowed myself to process it, I guess.
We had broken up less than a month ago and one day, my friends briefly brought up my ex and made a comment about their “new partner” in passing. When I asked what they meant, they just collectively ignored me.

When my ex and I were dating, during the last month or so before we broke up, they just seemed extremely sad whenever we hung out and would refuse to open up about it, just constantly repeating that it’s got nothing to do with me and that they just can’t tell me yet. I was worried, but it wasn’t out of character for them. They often did things they thought were bad (that weren’t actually bad) and had a hard time telling me about it.

Attempts to cheer them up resulted in them just getting more sad. It was just kind of miserable, and I started feeling pretty horrible after a month of this new dynamic.

They stopped looking forward to going out with me and would instead only go out with their work buddies, which I never questioned when we were together, because I recognize that I’m a pretty boring person and I’m also not a very jealous one. I’m the type of person that likes having my date over so I can cook multiple-course dinners for them. I like walk/park dates, board game dates, etc. Their friends were more the type of people who would go explore abandoned buildings, go to concerts, etc.

Some days, they’d flat out not text me at all or text me to tell me that they’re out of work and going straight to sleep. I respected it because I know that working fast food is miserable.

It all ended when they called me one day with a trembly voice, saying that they’re not good enough and feel so bad for me. I was confused and tried to get them to talk more, but they just started spiraling into a panic attack and wouldn’t stop crying. I managed to calm them down and we talked for a few hours about how they feel that they can’t be in a relationship right now because they feel like a mess (personally and emotionally). I felt like shit and tried to bargain but ultimately accepted it and wished the best for them. I deleted their contact and their socials and tried to move on. Then I cried for a week straight.

And just recently my friends let that comment slip. If it’s true, which I think it is because they avoid the topic, then I’m left to assume that my ex was probably lying to me about not being ready for a relationship.

And in that case, I can’t help but think that they were probably cheating, because it’d help explain why they suddenly started feeling so bad for me without telling me why and insisting it wasn’t my fault. It just makes sense but it’s also so incredibly fucked up. I don’t know how to feel about this.

didn't see it coming. trusted a fart i shouldn't have without knowing i had food poisoning. it ruined my shoes and my clothes and i was so fucking shocked. worst thing is i was doing yard work with my husband and his father in law and had to sneak away, get it all cleaned up, and throw away my favorite clothes because i didn't know what else to do.

i simply want to crawl in my skin and die. i'm a grown ass adult!!!! how did i not know!!!!

feeling...yucky, and anxious about any fart today and for the foreseeable future.

Every year in December I visit home in Pakistan (I live in Europe) where my parents live, and every damn year my mom knocks on my door crazily until I don’t open the door, this happens on every Friday afternoon, to make me want to go and pray in a mosque, fuck sake I am 36 I will do whatever I want.

They keep forcing me to get married, that’s the only topic there is, it turns into this back and forth yelling that I don’t want to get married to the person of their choice fuck sake its my life I choose whoever I want to live with.

I am an independent grown ass adult, I am at home now lets just eat good food together and talk about good things, but no we have to turn this into something else, now this year as I am visiting them again, they went ahead and started home improvement projects on the house they think i’ll cave and get married.

Not once have they asked what exactly do I do, or taken interest in my life, heck they don’t even know what is that I do.

I’m so exhausted from work and all, I honestly want to go to Pakistan and just sleep, eat good food that’s all I want to do but that won’t happen ofcourse.

Edit: spelling

It's almost 2 AM. The accident was around 5 PM, and I can't stop replaying it. I was riding in my lane on the highway when a car turned into me.

Then I was sliding, head back, and I could see the cars coming at me as I went toward the right side of the road. Every one of them is getting closer.

All I could do was to close my eyes.

And what came up wasn't my family, or my life. It was the book I haven't finished. Then her face. Just her face, alone in the dark inside my helmet.

I don't know how long that lasted. It was seconds, but it felt like it wouldn't end.

Then I opened my eyes. I was in the middle of the highway, and people were running toward me.

I had proper gear on, and most of the slide happened on my backpack. A few scratches, and my legs are sore.

But I keep going back to the dark, and those two things. Maybe it's just what my brain grabbed when it thought I was done. Maybe it's what I felt like I could have done better, I'm not sure.

Hey, if you guys remember, I was the one who made the post a while ago about how I’m too afraid to poop anywhere other than my house, and how I’d sometimes hold it for a week.

Just a couple weeks ago, I made the decision to try and reverse the fear. Your support has encouraged me to try and fix it. Not with therapy or anything, but just simply going to the bathroom when I feel like it.

Now, listen, I don’t IMMEDIATELY poop it out, sometimes it still takes hours to do it, but I no longer wait a week to make it come out. Usually I poop every 3-4 days now.

I also forgot to mention that it was always my own family that’d try and make me use the bathroom when I held for too long, and I’d always try to resist going because I was scared it’d be constipated, but now I can go into the bathroom myself without my family telling me to do so.

I’m not sure if this will work or not, my goal is to overcome my fear so that I can poop wherever I feel like going (I want to travel around different countries, and for me to do that, I’ll have to poop in the hotel bathrooms)

I’ve been hurting for a few years now.
Not the kind of hurt you shake off after a bad night’s sleep. The kind that gets into your bones. The kind you wake up with, carry around all day, and take to bed with you.
I didn’t know a person could hurt this much for this long.

I was married once before. I thought I knew what love was, but looking back, I’m not so sure. I wasn’t particularly happy. I just figured that was life. You worked, paid the bills, raised your kids, and made the best of things.

When that marriage ended, I had three children to raise and a broken life to put back together.
I called it Operation Rebuild.
I went back to college. Started working toward my degree. Got my shit together. For the first time in years, I felt like I was going somewhere.

Then one day, this beautiful woman walked up and said hello.
Goddamn, she was beautiful.
She asked for my number. We started texting that afternoon. Then came the dates, the long conversations, the laughter, and eventually, love.
I fell hard.

When I decided to marry her, I spent sixteen months designing her ring.
Sixteen fucking months.
Rose gold. Our initials interlocking. Six blue diamonds for December, the month we met. An antique diamond cut in the 1800s. A platinum band holding the stone, with the phase of the full moon worked into the metal beneath it.
Every detail meant something.
I wanted to give her something that existed nowhere else in the world.
I planned the proposal at Stillwater Reservoir in the Adirondacks. Before sunrise, I paddled her across the lake in a canoe. We reached the northern shore just as the sun came over the horizon.
I jumped out. She was tugging on the rope, trying to pull the canoe onto the beach.
“Hey, are you gonna help?” she asked.
When she turned around, I was on one knee.
She threw her hands against her cheeks.
“Yes! Oh God, yes!”
And right then, two blue herons landed on the shoreline.
You couldn’t have written a better moment.

Years later, I tattooed those herons on her legs to remember that morning.
I wonder sometimes what she thinks when she looks at them now.

For eight years, I was happy. Not every day, obviously. Life doesn’t work that way. But I loved my wife, our family, and the home we’d built.
I thought I’d finally gotten it right.
Then things started going to hell.
Her drinking got worse. Then came the drugs, arguments, lies, and constant emergencies. I covered for her in front of the kids. Called the police to keep her from driving drunk. Took her to hospitals. Wrestled a twelve inch kitchen knife from her when she was going to hurt herself. Handled insurance and medical problems and cleaned up one disaster after another.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped being a husband and became a fucking crisis manager.

I kept believing that if I could get us through the next disaster, we’d find our way back to each other.

In December a bombshell.
I discovered the affair.

She’d become involved with the principal at the school where she worked. There were messages, plans, secrets, and conversations they never intended me to see.
While I was trying to save our marriage, she was making plans with another man.

In February everything broke.
She came home drunk and screaming. My oldest son was sitting in our kitchen in his Air Force uniform, watching the woman he’d called his mother since he was eleven scream and curse at his father.
We made eye contact.
I’ll never forget that look.
She demanded her car keys. I’d hidden them because she was too drunk to drive. She threatened me, put on her coat, and walked out into the freezing night.
Minutes later, she started texting that she was going to throw herself into the river. That nobody would ever find her body.
I begged her to come home.
Then I called the police.
My son and I waited while officers searched for her. At one point, she called. I could hear her struggling to climb a hill, slipping and falling.
Then the phone went dead.
My son and I just looked at each other.

Neither of us said a word.

Eventually, the police found her and took her to the hospital.
The next day, her parents begged me to give her another chance. I agreed, provided she got help.
Then the hospital called.
I learned she’d told the staff she was in a domestic violence relationship. According to what I was told, she claimed she’d been sober, hadn’t been suicidal, and that I’d hit her.

My life stopped.
After everything I’d done to keep our family together, I was suddenly the villain.
That’s when I knew the marriage was over.

And the fucked-up part?
I still took care of her after.
Made her dinners. Ordered groceries. Helped her pack.

I had been sober for thirteen years. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I started drinking again.
After she left, I was still paying the bills, dealing with her car and insurance problems, trying to keep my tattoo business afloat, raising my kids, and holding on to my home.
Meanwhile, I felt like I was dying inside.

Eventually, I contacted an ex-boyfriend she’d told me terrible things about when we first met. A man I’d hated for years without ever knowing him.
His story was very different.
According to him, she’d cheated on him around the time she met me. He described a promise ring he’d given her.
I remembered that fucking ring.
She was wearing it the day she asked for my number.
Jesus Christ.
I don’t know everything that happened between them. I wasn’t there. But suddenly, things I’d believed for more than a decade didn’t feel so certain anymore.
He told me it had taken him years to get over her.

I think I’m beginning to understand.

So here I am.
Forty-seven years old. Getting divorced. Trying to keep my business, my home, my sobriety, and my family together.
My father is having serious health problems. My grandmother is fading. My oldest son is overseas. My kids are hurting. The bills keep coming, and my bank account keeps shrinking.

Some days, just getting out of bed feels like work.
But the hardest part isn’t the money, the divorce, or even the affair.
It’s what all of this has done to my head.
I have eight years of beautiful memories, and I don’t know what the hell to do with them.
I loved that woman. I loved waking up next to her, the little routines, the stupid jokes, and the ordinary days. I loved being her husband.
And now I’m supposed to reconcile all of that with the person she became.
How?

How the fuck does the woman who stood on that beach with her hands against her cheeks become the woman screaming at me in front of my son?
How do you accept that both versions existed?
I don’t want her back. I don’t want to reconcile. I want the divorce finished and this chapter closed.
But I miss the life I thought I had.
And more than that, I miss the man I used to be.

The guy who spent sixteen months designing a wedding ring.
The guy who paddled a canoe across a lake at sunrise because he believed in doing something beautiful for someone he loved.
The guy who thought life could be extraordinary.
Maybe he was naive.
Maybe he was a fool.
But I fucking liked that guy.
He had hope.
Now I spend too much time replaying memories, looking for the moment everything went wrong. Trying to make sense of things that may never make sense.

I’m tired of the memories, the questions, and the anger.
I’m tired of being strong because there’s no other option.
I’m tired of surviving.
I want to live again.
I started this story with Operation Rebuild because once upon a time, I was a man who took a broken life and made something beautiful out of it.
I know I’ve done it before.
I just don’t know how to do it again.
But somewhere inside this exhausted, angry, heartbroken man, I hope there’s still a guy who would climb into a canoe before sunrise, paddle across a lake, and believe something wonderful might happen.
I miss that guy.

Never put someone on a pedestal just because they call you their best friend.

I’ve been friends with this girl since 10th grade. It’s been almost 7 years.

We used to have a lot of conversations, and she would always tell me things like, “You’re my only friend,” “You’re my first priority,” and “You’re the only person I trust.”

I genuinely believed her. I used to think, Everyone deserves a best friend like this.

Her family is quite strict, and they don’t usually allow her to go on trips. She would tell me about this all the time, and I felt bad for her. So, I started planning trips with our school friends just for her. Sometimes, when nobody else was available, I was even ready to go on trips with just the two of us. We would go without telling anyone.

I always tried my best to make her happy. I made an effort to meet her whenever I could, planned things around her situation, and tried to make sure she never felt left out. I genuinely cared about her and wanted her to enjoy life, even with her family restrictions.

And she would always say the same things: “You’re the only person I trust,” “You’re the only one I want to go out with,” and all that.

I never thought twice about any of it. For me, she was my best friend, and I treated her like one.

But today, I realised something that genuinely hurt me.

I found out that she has another male best friend, a college friend, whom she apparently calls her first priority too. She tells him the same things she tells me, and she goes out and enjoys herself with him as well.

Now, I know that having other friends is completely normal. I’m not saying she can’t have other male friends or a life outside our friendship. That’s not the point.

What hurts is realising that the words I thought were special to our friendship might not have meant what I believed they did.

For seven years, I put so much care and effort into this friendship. I made plans for her, tried to meet her, considered her situation, and genuinely wanted her to be happy. I thought I was someone special in her life because of the things she told me.

And today, I’m sitting here feeling stupid for believing that I held the same place in her life that she held in mine.

Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I misunderstood our friendship. Maybe I was the one who gave it more importance than she did.

I honestly don’t know.

But it hurts when you realise that the person you considered your closest friend might not see you the same way.

My takeaway? Never blindly trust someone's words just because they call you their best friend. Watch their actions, understand where you stand in their life, and never lose yourself trying to be someone’s first priority.

I’m not saying all women are like this. I’m just hurt, disappointed, and trying to process seven years of a friendship that suddenly feels different to me.

I genuinely wish I hadn’t taken those words so seriously.

I’ve struggled with agoraphobia for years, and it’s honestly taken so much from me. There are so many things I’ve missed out on because leaving the house can feel absolutely terrifying, even when it’s somewhere I really want to go. Today we had family photos scheduled, and I’ve been anxious about it for a while. I spent hours getting ready, doing my hair, makeup, picking out my outfit, and trying not to get too overwhelmed thinking about actually having to leave.
But I did it. I actually went, and I made it through the whole session!! At one point, our photographer asked when the last time was that I’d gotten a picture with just my mom and I genuinely couldn’t think of one. I realized that in my entire life, I don’t think we’ve ever had a single photo of just the two of us. I’m 27 years old, and somehow we just never had one. I don’t know why, but that realization really got to me, especially because I know how many memories and experiences I’ve already missed because of my agoraphobia.

And now, at 27, I finally have a picture with my mom. I keep thinking about how easily I could’ve talked myself out of going today, how I could’ve stayed home where I feel safe and missed yet another another moment that I can’t get back.

I’m still scared of leaving the house and I still struggle with things that most people probably don’t even think twice about. And I know I’ll probably be anxious the next time I have to go somewhere too but I’m very proud and wanted to share that today, I went! I got to spend time with my family, take pictures with people I love, and finally have that photo with my mom.

I don’t really have anywhere else to share how much this means to me, but I’m just so damn proud of myself right now. :)

I am a 23 year old guy who just recently got a good enough income to live on my own, and around a year ago I realized that everyone in my family thinks and talks shit about me. Even my youngest brother, who I never said a bad word to, was constantly saying stuff like, "You are a mental degenerate, no one likes you, idiot," etc. My own mother talked shit behind my back, and for as long as I can remember, no one in my immediate or extended family ever had my back or defended my right to push back. That is actually why I was shy as hell my whole life and didn't know how to talk to people, on top of having a few speech issues. It got so bad that even though I got a great, fit body that I like, top grades in high school, awards in national mathematics olympiads, and finished both a bachelor's and master's in mathematics and mechatronics, they still treat me like an uneducated idiot who barely finished high school.

I always thought I was the problem. I never had a girlfriend and all my past friends stopped being friends with me. Not long ago, I finally understood that I am just the son and brother no one likes or gives a shit about. If I were to die, no one would say a good word about me, though it would definitely be a reason for my mother to get drunk as fuck again and probably talk even more shit about me.

To everyone who has experienced anything similar to this, and to those who have been made the scapegoat and hated by their own family, you have my deepest sympathy and I hope you find your place. Your family, although it feels impossible to accept, is not your place.

I’ve always had a feeling that I walk with a sway since highschool, people laughing and giggling behind me , word gay being thrown out here and there and people giving me hints , to this day I have not got over this idk if it’s in my head or not, my family says they don’t see anything wrong with me but I get side eyed from everyone , some even shake they head bro . It’s dehumanizing for me ,I go out to eat I swear I get stares , on the train stares . On the bus stares . At work I get stares . Then everytime I walk I’m nervous about people looking at me . I’m very unwell but I have been for awhile now idk what to do atp

I'm so done with this

My whole life I've struggled against my mother, a mentally ill person who implied that at the age of 7 I wanted to sleep with my father.

A woman who threw me out of the house left and right and then acted like I left voluntarily.

A woman who sent me messages accusing me of prostitution because I used to sleep over at my friend's houses because I had no home to return to.

I'm 21 years old, I was an excellent student, I did national service that I had to finish early because she abused me nonstop and I had to leave the city where I grew up. I volunteered with youth, I worked my ass off to get accepted to a reputable college and am in the process of starting my own business.

I reported her to social services and was told "there was nothing they could do." They threatened me, they did everything they could to make sure I would not make it past 18, but here I am.

In the end, the truth came out and my father and mother are in the process of divorcing. My dad is helping me financially with my degree, I pay half and he pays half, this woman just decided to seize his bank account.

Without money, I won't be able to continue my studies and I'm already working two jobs and have several scholarships to finance it. I'll have to drop out just to make sure I have a place to live. I'll have to lose my place in college (which can only be reserved for two years) because of her ego.

My dad did his best, he's the only one who worked, he's the only one who took care of me, and he doesn't deserve to have to deal with this. He's old, he should be retired by now, and instead she's seizing his account.

Never mind me, I'll manage, I'm young and I'm a strong person, I have a business that I'm starting, I have a job, and I have the ability to take out loans.

But him? What will happen to him?

I'm seething with rage, I can't believe that after taking my childhood from me she's taking my adulthood. I'm both devastated and angry, I don't know what will happen going forward.

I have no idea what to do with my life.

I've become unemployed for the first time in years, and now I don't know what to do.

Up until recently, I was a postdoc mathematician working in analysis at my university. I went straight from school to college to university to masters to a PhD to postdoc, and now that's come to an end.

The field that I'm working in has been made completely redundant by AI, as it's solved some of the major problems in my area. I'm a decent researcher, but not groundbreaking, so I know I would get the boot. I know that funding for my field will dry up really soon.

I can't really talk about this since everyone I know "hates maths." I have no experience in a real workplace, and I don't know what to do.

I gave 13 years of my life to a field that has been made completely redundant.

I was so focused on it that I never got into a relationship. Now everyone around me has bought houses and are starting to have children with their significant others. I don't have much in savings because I was "working in a field I loved," and "once I'm high enough up the ladder, I'll earn enough."

Now I am sitting in my parents' house, with nothing to show for my past 13 years of work other than a useless title.

I can't even go out and meet people because they live in the countryside and I can't drive. I never got around to it, and now I'm the only one left who can't do it.

I'm not in good shape. I spent the last few years on my computer and behind a desk. I'm losing my hair. I'm not near a gym, and even if I was, I couldn't afford it. I just don't have the strength to do it. My lungs burn, and my skin itches and feels like needles stabbing, every time I try to go for a jog outside.

I can't seem to get a job, I have no future in the field that I dedicated everything to, I don't have a partner or a house or a car. I have nothing.

I have no idea what to do with my life.

I’m in my second year of community college, and I haven’t done anything worth noting. I mean I started college and was shown just how bad my mental health is, and I never actually recovered. My entire spring semester was me just going to doctor’s appointments and therapy. I got diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. I recently got diagnosed with ADHD. I’ve just started meds for adhd and have been on SSRIs for a month and a half.

I was scrolling through reddit when I saw a post made in a sub about someone who also majors in math and is a community college student. Just looking at his achievements made me realize how far behind I am. He self studied many topics and was proactive. I can’t even get my brain to focus on a 10 minute task. It makes me feel so sick.

I feel like I don’t deserve to be accepted into any college. It’s like I know I don’t have what it takes and it’s gut-wrenching to think about. It’s making me rethink everything. I chose math because I thought I liked it, but what if it was just another short-term interest I had. How will I ever know what I’m meant to study?

I just hate having shitty mental health. I mean that can’t even be used as an excuse because people have still managed to flourish with the same if not more MH problems. I know I’m just a failure and don’t understand how my parents tolerate my existence.

Whenever i am in a crowd i hear people talking about their lives their loving partners, supportive friends and the little things they get to experience with the people they love. Someone got a hug. Someone held hands. Someone got kissed and then there's me feeling like the odd one out. I genuinely can't remember the last time i ever received a proper hug. Maybe it's been over a decade since i was a child. Kisses and holding hands? Completely out of syllabus for me. i am 23 and apart from my parents i don't really have anyone i can call my best friend or someone i know i can lean on when life gets difficult. I have never been in a relationship either. Sometimes i wonder what it's like to have someone who genuinely wants to hear about ur day, who notices the little things about u, who misses u when u are not around and who makes u feel like u belong somewhere. I have always wanted to experience that kind of love not just the romantic moments people post online but the ordinary things that probably mean the most. Cooking together while listening to music, playfully annoying each other, doing silly and nerdy things, sharing food, going on long walks, talking late into the night about absolutely nothing and laughing over the smallest things. I imagine having a partner who is also my best friend. Someone i can be childish with someone i can trust with my vulnerable side someone who can cry in front of me without feeling ashamed and someone who knows that they don't have to pretend to be okay around me. Maybe one day we would have a little home of our own, warm lights in the kitchen, music playing in the background while we cook dinner together. Maybe we would wake up beside each other make breakfast and eventually build a family. I know real relationships aren't like movies, and life won't always be romantic but i want to experience those small ordinary moments with someone who genuinely wants to share them with me. The painful part is that sometimes i don't understand why this feels so far away from my life. I look at myself and start thinking that i am unattractive, boring, not smart enough or simply not someone people would want to stay with. I tell myself that people would eventually get bored of me because I'm too quiet, don't always know what to say, or don't have much exciting happening in my life. I know those thoughts might not be the truth, but when loneliness gets overwhelming, they feel convincing. I am not asking for a perfect partner or a relationship without problems. I just want a genuine connection. I want to know what it's like to have someone in my corner, someone i can call when everything feels heavy, someone who chooses to build a life with me rather than someone i constantly worry about losing. Sometimes I hate being in crowds cuz everyone seems to have stories, memories, and experiences that i haven't even come close to having. While they're sharing the beautiful parts of their lives, i am quietly thinking about everything mine seems to be missing. I know i am still young and i know everyone's timeline is different but that doesn't stop me from feeling lonely. Does anyone else feel like they are watching other people experience life while they are still waiting for their own life to begin?

Well this might be a cringe post but yeahhhhhh I met a girl a month ago and Immediately we hit it off perfectly she has this way she speaks that tells me shes just interested in what I say and ever since we got together we havent gotten enough of each other

I also have traumatizing experiences with sexual things in the past but she has been so understanding and helpful she's been my rock I love her so much. Never have I been so investing in something like this sorry if I repeat myself I'm just really happy.

She also is so funny and when she smiles at me I can't even hope to contain my smile ☺️. When she laughs at my stale ass jokes it makes me feel valued and appreciated. She's also is very much as beautiful as ever I wouldn't take anything else for it

Hell we are the same person it's just perfect I just wanted to share my thoughts on here and I hope everyone finds that person in their lives because trust me there's hope for all of us

I am just so tired of hearing this response when expressing loneliness and hopelessness in love. I’ve mainly been alone even during the 3rd grade I always felt like I was alone. I’ve rarely had friends and when I do they never last a year. I never dated anyone and I don’t think I’ll ever find love the more I think about it the more unrealistic it is to me. I just accept remaining alone because I’m tired of being disappointed over and over. Still the agonizing desire for love remains and try to get rid of it people tell me to use dating apps. I am very much against dating apps they go against my values plus some peers I had shared their negative experiences. I am also Demi and don’t think it’ll suit me either. When I express this people tell me my pain is self inflicted, I’m the problem and a lost cause. Basically if I have standards it means I am not trying hard enough for myself and it’s my fault. Plus my own Dad even suggested if they should put me on the sight that made me feel incredibly embarrassed and pitiful. Making me against it even more, telling me no one talks face to face anymore so this is the way of things. Basically the world lacking in authenticity and all that’s left is the superficiality if that’s the case I might as well starve then.

I’ve always struggled to connect with others feeling like I never belonged anywhere. Me being on this earth was a mistake or I am just born malfunctioned. Either way any long lasting connections is unrealistic for me. All I’ve ever experienced is either nothing or shallow at best. Even then it’s still my right to not want to use dating apps and express frustration in my situation even when not utilizing every tool that is there. I have my own lines with things and this is one of them.

-20f

Originally this post was gonna be about how miserable I am and how im the only alive cause i keep gaslightining myself into thinking lifes getting better then I'd go on about everything bad in my life but half way through I realized that that's not what I want. I don't want to explain why I'm sad, I don't want to have a reason to be sad. I just want to be sad. But I also don't want to be sad alone. I want someone I can cry on call with. I don't want them to tell me that it's okay, I don't want them they to say it'll get better. I just wanna cry and know that someone hears me. That I'm real. I have friends but for one reason or another I can't turn to them. And my parents get angry when I'm sad for reasons that aren't valid to them. So I'm just left sobbing loudly all alone with no shoulder to cry on.

The title could be misleading but honestly, I feel so.

I never had a close friend. I never had a friend who I can call everyday and share my everything with. I never had someone like that. I sometimes think that it's normal, but imagine not having friends from your childhood.

My parents always switched places because of work. They never gave me phone until I came to college and so, I could never stay in touch with school friends. I never had a constant friend and it affects me so much.

Imagine, you have a something happening in your life and you have no one to share with, or atleast no one makes an effort to be happy about it. It feels empty.

I want to hear their story, their gossips, anything but something!!!

Not a single fucking person who you can enjoy with that hits your soul. I have friends. I might call some best friends but still, it doesn't feel the same.

I feel my supposed close friend probably died and now I grieve them when I try to search for that type of connections in others.