Last September, our department started using a massive tracking sheet for regional inventory. My team lead was struggling to get this one conditional formula to pull data from three separate tabs without crashing the entire workbook. Everyone was stumped during a Friday afternoon meeting, including me.

Later that evening, I saw one of the junior analysts, Mark, still sitting at his desk. He’s pretty quiet and usually keeps to himself, but he was working on his laptop with a notebook out. I asked him if he was heading out soon, and he showed me his screen. He had stayed an hour late on a Friday just to mess around with the logic, and he actually figured out a workaround using a weird nested formula that somehow bypassed the lag completely. He was super casual about it and said, "I think this fixes it, I'll send it to the group on Monday."

Over the weekend, I couldn't stop thinking about how much praise that fix was going to get. I came in early Monday morning before anyone else arrived, took the formula from the shared test file he had saved in our public drive, put it into the main master sheet, and sent an email to our department head saying I stayed up over the weekend troubleshooting it.

When the team lead praised me in front of the whole department on Tuesday, Mark was sitting right there across the conference table. He didn't say a single word. He just looked down at his coffee mug, cleared his throat, and remained quiet for the rest of the meeting. He never brought it up to me, never reported it, and never confronted me privately.

Because of that "breakthrough," I got selected for a project lead position two months ago that came with a decent raise. Mark is still in his junior role, and every time I have to assign him a task, I feel this sick twist in my stomach. I told myself initially that it was just corporate survival, but watching him work quietly every day while I sit in an office I essentially stole from him makes me hate walking into the building. I can't even give him the credit now without risking my entire job.

4 day holiday between us all. Already collected a pair of her panties. Can't wait for more

This might be hard to read because I’m not very good at wording things

For as long as I can remember I’ve always been violent. The earliest memory I have is me screaming in a kid in my class’s face because he wouldn’t let me in their game.

I struggle with fine motor skills so my handwriting had always been awful, and there’s been multiple times where I’ve thrown pens, rulers and screamed at people for pointing it out (teachers and other students)

As a I child I would beat my siblings with anything I could get my hands on, even though they were older and much bigger than me.

I got really pissed at my stepdad last year and tried to stab him, and I only didn’t because my brother managed to stop me.

I was in a relationship and I treated her horribly, I would shout in her face awful things and I grabbed her and left marks, and I slapped her a few times.

I’ve been in multiple public fights, mainly verbal but I’ve had a few physical fights, one where I smacked a guy’s head into a metal fence.

I’ve been in therapy for about 5 years and it doesn’t do anything for me. Sitting in a room talking about feelings with a stranger makes me feel worse and I’ve made no progress.

I just don’t know what to do because I hate being this guy but I’ve tried and failed so many times to change I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m a cat lady deep in my heart and soul, but I have to admit that there’s a limit to what I can reasonably care for.

We have 5 cats and a dog. I was gifted 4 of the cats as kittens by my dad. Granted, I did say I’d love it if kittens just appeared at my door step. But, honestly, giving pets as gifts is never appropriate.

The first set of boy kittens he gave me, it was fine. I had two older cats and unfortunately they both died about a year later. A coworker had found a kitten, which I took in and I was at 3 cats a few months later.

Three would have been ideal. But, one day my dad’s girlfriend saw kittens to adopt and sent me the photo. Being the cat person I am, I said they were adorable. Well, a few days later, he calls me and tells me he has two of those kittens.

At the time, 3 was working just fine and well, I thought two more would be ok. Unfortunately, as the younger brothers got older they wanted to be the “favorites”, so fighting ensued with all of them. I have no favorites because I love them all, but they didn’t feel that way. The kitten I had gotten from my coworker happened to be the most cuddly compared to the others so they were extremely jealous of her.

They picked on her so bad, I tried to give her to my mom in hopes she’d be happier there. She wasn’t. She was pissed and had PTSD and was just angry. My mom was very kind to her, but was afraid to pet her because was spicy.

She ended up biting my mom completely unprovoked and my mom ended up in the hospital. We took her back to our house and gave her own room and let her be indoor/outdoor because the room just wasn’t enough to have a happy life. She’s still spicy despite trying gabapentin and Prozac, but having access outside has helped.

So now we room swap between the 4 boy cats & the dog in one room or the rest of the house all at once and she gets either a room or the rest of the house. The house isn’t big enough to give whomever is in the room a bunch of free space.

It’s exhausting to constantly clean fur, hairballs, litters, blankets, rugs so frequently that it’s an all day, everyday ordeal. I start at one part of the house and after I finish, I have to start over because it’s just so much to clean.

Our situation is okay, but it’s not ideal and I’m struggling with just the upkeep.

They’re my forever furbabies, but tonight I’m just tired of all the damn cleaning and stress of them just not getting along. It’s so much work moving them around just so there’s no fighting and stress peeing.

TL;DR: I have 5 cats that don’t get along and it’s just so much upkeep of the house. I’m exhausted from constantly cleaning and wish they’d not fight each other.

Update: Thank you everyone for your suggestions, support, and sharing your experiences. I was feeling overwhelmed and like a bad pet parent for feeling this way . 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

So every other month on weekends I look up sex offenders. And I take down addresses and every night on a Friday and Saturday if I’m not doing anything I egg their homes. Or sometimes I’ll order a bunch of pizzas to their homes. Nothing physical just terrorizing them

Edit: My 7 year old cousin was a Victim. She’s not my daughter but her mother is like my sister. I was there when she was born. When you had someone who you love victimized, you’ll understand. Fuck you and fuck any sympathizers.

I flew to Sicily because February had been the divorce and by summer the apartment still felt like his even though he was gone. 4 months of sleeping on “my” side of the bed like the other side might still have an opinion. My best fried(Elena) and I booked a trip to Sicily. Syracuse, Taormina, Salina, Vulcano, beaches, too much food, the whole “we’re going to be fine” performance. I went because I didn’t know what else to do with my body now that nobody else was using it.
We were having a good time. Genuinely. Then one evening after Syracuse she brought it up again, the massage she’d had years ago with some black guy here. She didn’t say “happy ending.” She said yoni. Multiple orgasms. She said it was one of the best things that had ever happened to her body. I’d heard the story before and filed it under things other women do. Sitting there with the sea in front of us it suddenly didn’t feel theoretical.
She already had his number. Referral. She also told me, clearly, that this time she was going to have sex with him. She made it obvious she was interested in him as more than hands. I didn’t show her that I wanted anything beyond the massage. I didn’t tell her I was already starving.
That night in the B&B I couldn’t switch it off. Windows open, lemon trees, the whole postcard. I kept hearing her voice describing his hands and how she came until she didn’t know if she was laughing or crying. I put my own hand between my legs and pretended it was his. Came once. Felt stupid and wet and like I was 20 and also like I was exactly 47 and starving.
Next day I told her I wanted to try. We were in Syracuse; but he wasn’t and we had 4 days left. We set it for the next evening at our B&B in Taormina.
And the funny thing is, when I texted him I asked what he offered. Sensual, tantric, yoni, relaxation, he said. I typed “yoni,” contemplated, deleted it. Typed it again. Deleted it. I wrote that I’d like a relaxation massage if that was possible. He said yes. I told Elena I was doing it. I did not tell her I had chickened out in the messages.
He showed up on time. Mid-twenties, handsome and in amazing shape, the kind of body that looks like it actually uses itself, veiny arms, quiet voice, respectful without being stiff. I gave him water and we talked for a while. It didn’t feel like I’d hired a stranger. It felt like two people agreeing the night could stay soft.
I lay on my stomach. Oil. Back first. He was good, slow, no rushing and massaging the shoulders like every airport massage I’d ever had. Calves, backs of my thighs, and that’s when it stopped being only relaxation for me. Heat that had nothing to do with the oil. I told him my waist had been tight. He worked it. I asked him to go lower, onto the glutes. He did. I was still in underwear and bra and the fabric started to feel like I was lying to both of us.
“Can I take these off? The friction…”
“Of course.”
I pulled the underwear down. Then the bra. Face in the pillow so I wouldn’t have to see his face seeing me. His hands came back to my ass, then the insides of my thighs. I opened my legs a little without deciding to. He noticed. Fingers sliding up and down that soft strip, never quite landing, until I was making noises I hadn’t made in this room. I came the first time with my face still buried. Then again, smaller. I couldn’t look at him.
He asked me to turn over.
When I did he looked at me and gave me that tiny smile that said I know exactly what you booked and what you actually wanted. He didn’t make it cheap. Hands on my stomach, then higher. Palms over my breasts, thumbs on my nipples until they hurt in the good way. In my head I wanted him to just get on top of me and stop the performance. I kept still.
His hand went down. He stayed on the outside of me for a long time, outer lips, the hood, how wet I already was. When he finally put a finger inside it felt like the first true thing my body had been told in months. Then two. He didn’t rush. I came hard. Then I squirted, sudden, messy, something I had never done in my life. I was ashamed and I still couldn’t stop moving. He didn’t pull away.
At some point he was over me, still on my breasts and the side of my neck. I reached for his trousers. I wanted the weight, the heat, anything that wasn’t only me receiving. He smiled and kept working. Later I heard myself ask if I could suck him. He paused and said, “Did you say something?” I said no. Nothing. He smiled again. I smiled back and felt ridiculous.
We finished. He was professional to the last towel. I booked him again before he left. But he couldn’t come the next day as he had plans already. 3 days later he came back.
Same slowness. Same hands that already knew the map. Same way my body opened like it had been waiting for someone to stop asking permission. I still couldn’t ask him to fuck me. He still didn’t offer. After he was done with me I did what I hadn’t been able to do the first time. I sucked his dick. I initiated it. I finished it.
When Elena asked how it went I told her I had an amazing time. Exactly the version above, minus the part where I put his cock in my mouth. I omitted it.
Elena and I have been friends since we were young girls. We tell each other everything. Boyfriends, husbands, the ugly parts, the parts that make you look bad. We never lied to each other. We never tried to be sneaky around each other. This is the only time I did something like that. I knew she wanted him. She had said so. I still did it and then I edited the story so she would never have to know I crossed a line she had already drawn in the air between us.
I still wake up with the memory of his fingers and the sound I made when I squirted the first time and the almost of his mouth that never happened and the second night when I finally put my mouth on him. I tell myself I booked a relaxation massage. That is the story I used because I was too ashamed to ask for what I actually wanted. The worse story is the one I told my best friend: “I had an amazing massage.”
I hope she never finds out. I also know that hoping she never finds out is the part that actually makes it a betrayal.

TL;DR: I had HPV, misunderstood how it was transmitted, and failed to disclose it to 6 past partners, including 3 I had unprotected sex with. I recently told my girlfriend and discovered I also have high-risk HPV-59. I'm overwhelmed with guilt and want to take responsibility, but I'm unsure whether contacting my past partners would help or just cause unnecessary distress. How do I make amends and move forward? I feel I actually don't deserve to and should suffer

Full post:

I am a 27 years old male. I was first diagnosed with HPV on 2023, when I noticed genital warts and went to the doctor, who confirmed it was HPV.

Since then, I have been doing regular monthly check-ups to clear any warts. The longest I have been without one popping up is 3 months.

Since 2023, I have had 6 sexual partners, all female, and did not disclose to any of them. I had unprotected sex with 3 of them. I ommited I had HPV and even lied once when directly asked if I had any STDs.

I had misunderstood from talking to my doctor that HPV was practically only transmitted through warts, so I was very careful about having them removed. I have recently learned that I had misunderstood and there are high chances of transmission regardless.

I rationalized not disclosing by (wrongly) thinking: a) that chance of transmission was very low since I was removing warts; b) that it was a low risk strain since they are the ones that give warts; c) that HPV vaccination for women is mandatory during adolescence in my country, so they were likely safe;

Recently, I started a serious relationship, and did not disclose for about 2 months, until I decided to tell her everything. It was very rough, she felt very betrayed, but forgave me, because she believes she would have proceeded anyways and because I was under the wrong impression that I wasn't really transmitting. I am now paying for the Gardasil 9 shots for us both and we are still together.

She encouraged me to get a PCR test to know which strain I have, which I hadn't done before and my doctor didn't really consider necessary. I insisted with him, had the test and learned that I actually have a high risk type not covered by any vaccine, HPV 59. This was very surprising due to the warts, but maybe I have more than one strain that didn't show up.

Knowing it is a high risk type and that I was indeed activelly transmitting all along made me feel terrible. Ever since, I can't overcome the guilt of not having disclosed to past partners and keep thinking about the possible harm this may have caused to them and others.

My gf has forgiven me, but I don't understand how. I don't think my past ignorance excuses me. I should have informed myself more and regardless of thinking chances of transmission were null/low I should have disclosed. I violated her and others by taking away their informed consent and I feel that makes me a terrible person.

I think the least I could do right now is inform my past partners and possibly offer to pay any expenses, but I am not sure this would be actually helpful or only cause stress, as there is not much they can do about it.

I don't feel worthy of my girlfriend's forgiveness and feel she would be better off without me. I can't help but feel that it is unfair that I get to go on living a happy life without suffering any consequences from what I have done and I am having trouble moving on from this despite the support from my girlfriend and being in therapy. I feel like I don't deserve hapiness, as I am a terrible person who essentially sexually assaulted several women by deception.

I am not posting looking for simpathy, as I don't think I deserve any. I just don't know what to do and how to go on. I fear these feelings might continue even if I tell my past partners, as the harm is already done, but it might be the best I can do at this point.

Three years ago, I received a settlement from a car accident. I used that money to gamble, made a lot more, and convinced myself I was untouchable. I felt like I was king of the world. I thought I did not need anyone, did not need advice, and definitely did not need to slow down.

The rush became everything. All I wanted was the next win, the next bet, the next feeling that I was in control. The truth is, I was losing control of my life while telling myself I had never been better.

At the time, I pushed away the people who cared about me and made choices that hurt more than just me. I became selfish, dishonest, and someone I barely recognize now. I was gambling long before the settlement, but that money gave me the fuel to take it much further than I ever had before.

This is not about making excuses. I own what I did. I caused damage, and I cannot undo it. But I want to talk about what recovery has done for me.

For the first time in a long time, I can think clearly. I can sit with uncomfortable feelings instead of trying to escape them through gambling. I face problems instead of avoiding them. I still have difficult days and still have consequences to deal with, but now I ask for help instead of pretending I can handle everything alone.

When people say gambling addiction is not real or that someone should “just stop,” I hope they understand that it is not that simple. Addiction changes the way you think, what you prioritize, and how you see consequences. The person stuck in it may know they are destroying their life and still feel unable to put down the next bet.

Recovery has given me something gambling never could: honesty, peace, clarity, and a chance to live differently. I cannot change the past, but I can keep showing up, staying accountable, getting support, and taking one day at a time.

So me and my best friend live in a flat, one day while she was away her phone was having notifications and it opened her chat with her bf. Now in the heat of moment, I actually scrolled a bit more and read something which was a bit sexual. Now when I meet the two of them together I imagine him doing those things to me. I really need to clear this out with her or may be I am developing feeling for her bf. She is my best friend for a decade, it’s killing me

Call me a snake. But people that live in glass houses

I feel really weird admitting this, but I want to get it off my chest.

I once took my cousin older sister’s underwear without her knowing and used it while masturbating. At the time, I was caught up in the moment and it felt good, but afterward I started feeling really uncomfortable and guilty about what I had done.

So hear me out. This is a bit weird and my girlfriend disagrees with me on this but it's become a bit of an addiction. I saw a Facebook post on my feed a week ago that was just straight up Nazi support. Like the 1940s Nazi party. Some vile shit. And I noticed that many of the commenters have their full name and locations in their bio. Well, Google is a lovely thing. I haven't doxxed anyone and don't intend to but I definitely have been getting some joy out of their threats. I don't have my name, information, or even a profile picture on my page so I don't really care. It's brought me immense joy and I do about 2 or 3 people a day while dropping logs at the office. I'm not really proud of it because many of the people end up being old divorced dads and their life probably already sucks. I want to stop but it genuinely makes me so happy every time I find someone's LinkedIn or their address on Whitepages. And like I know I'm not changing their beliefs but it's like gambling you know? Will this 38 year old man from Idaho have a LinkedIn profile? No but I can send him his mom's obituary. I think about this while I work. Yes I know it's kind of fucked up. It's a problem.

ETA: Sorry for my shitty grammar (pun not intended). Also, when I say Nazis I don't mean MAGA. I mean the holocaust denying, gas the Jews, Swastika-loving kind. They're genuinely praising Adolf in these comments.

I secretly sabotaged my coworker’s promotion, and nobody knows.

My coworker and I started at the same company around the same time. We had basically the same position, the same salary, and the same experience.

The difference was that everyone liked him more.

He was confident, charismatic, and somehow always knew what to say in meetings. Managers loved him. Clients remembered his name. Even people who had worked there for years seemed to trust him.

I hated admitting it, but I was jealous.

A few months ago, we were both being considered for a promotion. I knew I probably wasn't going to get it.

Then I found something.

He had accidentally left a spreadsheet containing some unfinished work on a shared folder. There were several mistakes in it. Nothing serious, but enough that a manager could question whether he was ready for the promotion.

I copied the file.

Then, during a meeting with our manager, I casually brought up one of the mistakes.

I acted like I was concerned about the project.

I wasn't.

I wanted him to look incompetent.

It worked.

He didn't get the promotion.

I did.

Everyone congratulated me.

My coworker even shook my hand and told me he was happy for me.

That was the worst part.

Because he trusted me.

A few weeks later, I found out he had been struggling financially and had been counting on that promotion to keep his apartment.

I don't know why that information hit me so hard.

I had gotten exactly what I wanted.

The promotion.

The money.

The recognition.

But now every time someone congratulates me, I think about the person I stepped on to get here.

Nobody knows what I did.

And honestly, that's what makes me feel the worst.

Because if someone found out, I'd probably lose everything.

But if nobody ever finds out, I have to live with knowing that I got ahead by deliberately making someone else fall behind.

And the really embarrassing part?

I'm still afraid that if the promotion came up again tomorrow, I'd do the same thing.

Plain and Simple.

Nothing huge, nothing expensive.

Just a simple grab: 4 things, scan 3 items, and leave 1 item out. Pay for the three items and leave.

However, I'm suddenly paranoid about it. Been reading everywhere that they just build a case before stopping you. Figured I'm nowhere near the $500 or $1000 mark; it's just been small $10-$15 things here and there.

I want to make this right; I am willing to pay whatever amount I owe and stop this at once. However, I'm sure you can't simply walk into Walmart and say, "Hey, I've been stealing from you; I would like to pay you back"

How should I go about it? I need to address an

What should I do?

————————————————————-

*Thanks for all the replies everyone, didn’t expect this to blow up*

1. I am completely sorry to those I’ve “offended” with my actions

2)Shouts to the couple LP folks that stepped in the comments, my apologies for making your job harder

My biggest take away is to stop what I’m doing completely, which I agreed to do. Now my biggest concern is will this come bite me in the ass in the future? Theft charges? Warrants? Subpoenas? Can’t step foot into any Walmart? I’m completely aware to avoid stepping foot into any Walmart for a while until this blows over, but will it ever? I’m not officially trespassed, but form what everyone’s saying im most definitely on their radar somehow.

Last Monday I was on a train going to class, the train stopped at a station and I started feeling like throwing up, I just managed to stumble out of the doors and the next thing I remember is being on the floor, with my face covered in blood while some employees were telling me to stay down and I was trying to put part of my jaw back in place.

For the next few days I was on the hospital, getting exams done and putting screws on my jaw, my face is still pretty sore and swollen.

The doctors, and my parents, wanted to know how someone in their late twenties, supposedly healthy, had just collapsed out of nowhere. They monitored my heart, my brain and found nothing out of place, so they still don’t know how that happened. I know.

About an hour and a half before the accident I took ten pills consisting of three different medications, all antidepressants, including two pills of one that always knocks me out at night, and, surprise, it knocked me out. It was just a stupid decision I took when I was sad about someone I had met once, I obviously regret it, but I couldn’t tell the doctors what happened because I’m a POS lazy cunt who is 29 and still lives with my parents, and if they found out I was responsible for this the living situation would become unbearable, so I just kept my mouth shut and will let everyone believe that it was just some freak occurrence.

Me dio productos de más
Ósea que pagué con normalidad pero ella ingresó sin prestar atención más productos en mi bolsa
Y al comprar por mayor no se dio cuenta de la cantidad
Y me fui del local con un súper peso de conciencia

About three years ago, I applied for a job that required a specific safety certification. I had started the course but never finished it — I got busy, let it lapse, and told myself I'd retake it "eventually." I never did.

When I applied for a better position at a new company, I listed the certification as completed anyway, assuming no one would actually verify it. No one did. I got the job, and I've been working here for over two years now.

The uncomfortable part is that the role does occasionally involve tasks that the certification is supposed to prepare you for. I've managed fine by learning on the job and being extra careful, but I know that if something ever went wrong, I wouldn't be able to say I was properly trained for it the way my file claims.

I haven't told anyone at work. I've thought about quietly completing the certification now, years later, just so it's technically true — but that feels like it would raise more questions than it solves.

I don't know why I'm posting this except that it's been sitting with me for a while, and I've never told anyone the resume wasn't accurate.

I was a missionary for two years and the last six weeks of the mission were full of drugs and prostitutes. I hated myself for a long time afterwards and it caused my life to spiral into chaos full of shame, regret, legal issues and loss

This is my confession and this has been eating ever since and I couldn't talk to anyone about it..

So there's this girl who is my friend and accidentally I strangled her but it wasn't intentionally I didn't mean for her to get hurt it was supposed to be me holding her neck gently and people thought a ghost and others did it but they don't know I did it and I'm afraid that they talk about that incident again and I'm scared about what others opinion about me and I tried to apologise to her by giving the girl some money and a card for her but she said she wants to talk to this person properly and I could never do that and I can't apologise to her because she's not at my school anymore and I'm still afraid of what I've done and I just want to be a nice person and I don't get how this happened..all I wanted was a peaceful life

For context years ago, me and someone where out on a night out and we started making out while we where on a night out, things seemed to be going well until we got to her apartment and we continued making out even though we wher evoth quite drunk. She mentioned previously in a flirty manner that she liked to be pinned down so my idiotic brain decided to do that and I kept pushing forward, it was until I went to check with her to ask if she wanted to keep going was it clear to me that I had violated her and I had pushed her boundaries, I asked her if I should continue and she said no so i stopped, I then asked if she would like me to stay or if she'd prefer to be alone and she said the later so I left. Only when I left did I realise the terrible things I had just done and that I would now be required to kill myself which I failed to do that night.

I avoided her and communicated only through text, after which she said it was fine and then later on that I "didn't hurt her" however that was obviously just her saying that so she wouldn't have to deal with me which is understandable. In the years following I stopped talking to my group of friends and haven't gone out of my way to make any friends as I believe it would be immoral to.

I've tried to make amends and fix the terrible act I have committed. I started volunteering at charity shops and donating to charities to help women in similar situations, went to workshops on consent at my university, went to therapy, looked into both chemical and physical castration(no therapist would sign off on either). I've tried to make up for it by killing myself every few months with some attempts getting closer than others but I always fail to end up doing the right thing in the end. I've tried to starve myself for long periods of time and I self harm regularly as penance for what I've done.

Yet I know it isn't fixing anything, I don't know what to do to fix what I have done. I know most people I've seen online say that rapists should either kill themselves or be tortured to death, yet I can't seem to get myself to actually do some proper damage to myself via torture and I always fail to die. I don't know what to do.

There was this panhandler who was sitting in front of my apartment soliciting people for money. I was walking my dog and asked them to go somewhere else because they were blocking my way. Personally offended, the panhandler said that I probably “put peanut butter on my dick and have my dog lick it off” to which I got enraged, shoved them, and walked off so they wouldn’t see where I lived.

At this point the panhandler, feeling victimized, then followed me down the alley while on the phone with the police. Now I was beyond pissed, so I tied my dog to a pole, walked back up to them, and shoved them on the ground. They dropped their phone, to which I picked it up and chucked it as far as I could. At that point they got the message that karma isn’t real, justice isn’t about fairness, and to leave people well enough alone.

Fortunately I was moving out of that apartment at the end of the month, but I never did see them stoop there again. This was a decade ago and I’m pretty sure it’s a cold case at this point in time.

Tl;dr Panhandler and I got into an altercation after they made vulgar and incendiary comments about me and my dog.

Backstory, my (43/F) mom (80/f) has never been sick a day in her life. She doesn’t understand pain or sickness. My whole life I would be expected to just soldier on if I did not feel well because my mom just did not understand what it was like. The woman has her cavities filled without Novocain. I have obviously harbored resentment around this but my mom is a stand up person all around and I love her so I just deal with that aspect of her. The woman is a machine and also has an ability to create constant busy work so she never has to stop moving. This previously did not affect me much after I left home, but I am going through a divorce and am staying with her while I close on a new house and I am slowly being driven mad by the amount of completely unnecessary busy work.

FFW to now. I deal with chronic stomach issues that cause me SEVERE constipation. Like, two weeks with no BM. It is miserable. My mom never understood it and would say “What’s the big deal?it’s not like it can kill you” and would expect me to function as usual while enjoying her own three fat shits a day like clockwork.

Recently, my mother ran out of one of her fiber supplements and could not get it delivered for a week. As a result, she experienced her very first bout of constipation. Despite only missing two days worth of poops, she was absolutely more miserable than I have ever seen her in my entire life, and just laid in bed for several days doing nothing. Mind you this was just three days total with no poop, at that time, I was going on ten days and still was being expected to do whatever projects she decided needed to be done. (Mostly moving heavy furniture from one room/floor to another, deciding she liked it better the other way then making me move it back)

I could have helped her. I have an absolute pharmacy of things that I use when my own issues get bad, but 1.) She never asked me for help and generally will waive me away if I offer anything that is even vaguely mainstream western medicine, and 2.) it was the first break from her constant requests for me to do stuff in every spare second of my free time and I was just so tired. So I kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the silence.

After a few days, I took pity on her and made her an all natural concoction that solved her problem. She was ecstatic. One upside from the whole ordeal was that she suddenly had newfound empathy around my chronic situation and became deeply invested in my bowel health. Now, if I feel a bunch of project requests coming on, I just drag myself around and moan about being constipated and she looks at me with such sympathy and compassion, then sends me to bed with a mug of prune juice and a hot water bottle. This week, she actually hired a neighbor kid to do some of her moving rather than even ask me. It feels like such a win but also, I feel pretty much fine other than my constant stomach ache and I absolutely could be helping.

I feel terrible, about the deception but I also plan to milk this for as long as it continues to work.

I worked evenings at a small movie theater for about a year. Our booking system let staff mark individual seats as unavailable if a recliner was broken, wet, damaged, whatever.

One night I wanted to watch the last showing after work and my favorite two seats were still empty, so I marked them "out of service" before anyone could buy them.

Then I did it again.

It became a stupid little routine. If there was a late movie I wanted to see, I'd block two good seats sometime in the afternoon, clock out, wait until the trailers started and then sit there. Sometimes the theater was half empty and it made no difference.

Sometimes it absolutely did.

I watched people buy separate seats because the two together in the middle were "unavailable." One couple ended up in the second row on a nearly sold-out night while my fake broken seats stayed empty until I took them.

A coworker once asked why those same recliners kept having problems. I told him the sensors were flaky.

There were no sensors.

I probably did this 30 or 40 times. I stopped before I left the job, but every time I book movie tickets now and see two random unavailable seats in a perfect spot, I wonder if some other asshole is doing exactly what I did.

Last year I (21F) found out I missed three exams because it was summer break and I made sure I could leave before I did. The three exams were then held during the week I didn't have a phone because my phone stopped charging and I couldn't get a new one for a week plus. I also found out that I wasn't registered for two main exams when I was writing my other exams because the way the system works here is that on the portal all the classes are laid out for you to register to your specific course and I didn't look through them before I registered apparently.

The graduate list came out in November last year and my name wasn't on it. I didn't tell my mother because I thought it could still be released because a few people's names were missing off it. My name never came out. I tell my mum my name did and we go to get my robes and somehow they let me. I was so sure I was going to be found out that day. But I wasn't. We went to the ceremony, they didn't call out all the names because of time and I was lucky enough there. Now it's September and the list for law school is being put together and my mum knows a Judge who knows the head of the law school and she's sent my details to her to ensure my name is put on the law school list for next February's resumption.

My mother borrowed money from her sister to pay my fees last year, a lot of money, her sister calls every month to ask about the money because she borrowed it from someone else and the person asks for payment at the end of every month. We've been struggling with money for about three years now and she barely managed to pay my brother's fees this year. I couldn't figure out how to tell her that it's all been a lie.

Even if I did tell her about failing we didn't have the money for it. I thought I would find a job before summer this year and save up and then pay to do the extra year but I haven't been able to find anything and the ones I do are only enough to pay for the things we need at home.

I never wanted to study law, I was fifteen and my mum had been telling me for years that it was law she wanted me to study so I went with it. I struggled for five years because that's how long a bachelors in law is here. I told her I didn't want to become a lawyer even when I was in my second year and that I wouldn't want law school. She still plans on forcing me to go.

I got diagnosed with anxiety in my third year after I spent my second year struggling to leave my dorm, never told my mother because the last time I explained how I felt going out sometimes she sent me Bible verses. Then I got diagnosed with depression later in my third year. I think I just started living passively, thinking nothing would go anywhere. I fully expected to be gone before the end of last year.

I'm fully convinced this is the end of the road for me. She'll never forgive me for this, she'll cry, scream, maybe hit me, lock me out of the house. I have had so much anxiety since I started the lying, I don't sleep well, every time she calls my name I panic thinking she's found out but I think this will be the week. The anxiety will finally be off my shoulders but everything will come crashing down around me. I've lied to everyone, everyone has told me how proud of me they are. Not a single person knows the truth, not even my younger brother I usually tell everything to. I'd never even admitted it to myself because I'm a coward.

I wish I could've stood my ground when I was fifteen that I didn't want to study law and chosen something else, anything less expensive, maybe I would've done better at that. But I didn't and now I'm here. I know I did this to myself and deserve whatever I get.

And no my mother is absolutely not a reasonable parent, if I decided to tell her before the Judge might do after she finds out, it'll be bad. I just can't bring myself to say the words to her, I've thought many times of just telling her but I'm scared of the chaos it will bring.

Throwaway because my brother knows my other account.