When I was 17 or 18, I worked at a cheap low class department store while I was finishing high school. I worked in the little cafe, mostly washing dishes and doing whatever else needed to be done.

There was a guy who worked at the store who was just an obnoxious jerk. He was the sort of person who could make an otherwise tolerable shift miserable just by being around. Nobody liked him, and people generally avoided him whenever possible.

One day, I got an idea for a prank.

I took two packets of ketchup and carefully placed them underneath the toilet seat in the men's bathroom. You couldn't see them just by looking at the seat. The idea was that when someone sat down, their weight would crush the packets and squirt ketchup everywhere.

I thought it was hilarious. It was stupid, childish, and completely unnecessary, which was probably why it appealed to me at that age.

Unfortunately, the person who sat down was the store manager.

I wasn't there to witness it, but word spread pretty quickly. Apparently, the ketchup went all over him and his clothes while he was sitting on the toilet. He was absolutely furious. He vowed to find out who had done it and get to the bottom of the situation.

Now, this was a department store that sold cheap stuff, so it's not as though the man had suffered some permanent catastrophe. He could buy another pair of pants and underwear. But obviously, nobody wants to have ketchup squirted all over them while they're using the bathroom, especially not at work.

The funny thing was that there was absolutely no way to know who had done it. It could have been an employee. It could have been a customer. There were plenty of possibilities.

But somehow, suspicion settled on the obnoxious guy I worked with.

He insisted he hadn't done it. The problem was that everybody thought he was exactly the sort of person who might pull a stunt like that. Even people who realized there was no evidence against him didn't seem particularly interested in defending him.

I certainly wasn't going to volunteer any information.

The manager was so angry that he actually fired the guy right there on the sales floor, in front of everybody.

It was a scene. The guy kept insisting he hadn't done it, but the manager wasn't having any of it. I don't think he was interested in hearing another word from him.

The rest of us just watched.

And here's the really ugly part: nobody seemed particularly upset about it. Even though there was no evidence that the guy had anything to do with the ketchup, people were so fed up with him that they were practically relieved to see him go. Nobody stuck up for him. Nobody said, "Wait a minute, how do we know he did this?"

I certainly didn't.

I stood there and watched a guy get fired for something I'd done, and I didn't say a word.

The atmosphere at work improved after he left. People were friendlier, the shifts were more pleasant, and I had no reason to complain about the outcome. As far as I was concerned, I'd pulled off a stupid prank and somehow gotten rid of a coworker I couldn't stand.

I didn't really think about what it must have been like for him to be fired in front of everybody, insisting he was innocent while nobody believed him. At least, not at the time.

About a week later, I got called into the manager's office.

I was nervous as hell. I had no idea whether somebody had figured it out or whether there was some other problem. The manager told me to have a seat.

He asked if I knew why he'd called me in.

I said no.

He asked whether I'd heard about what happened the previous week with the ketchup packets.

I said yes, trying to sound as though this was an entirely ordinary conversation.

He paused and said, "You work in the cafe, don't you?"

I said yes.

"Well," he said, "I'd like you to personally keep an eye on the ketchup packets. Be on the lookout for anything suspicious, and feel free to report anything that doesn't look above board. You can drop by my office whenever you notice something. Don't hesitate, even if it turns out to be a false alarm. I want to know about it."

I was sitting there wondering whether this was some kind of elaborate trap.

Then he thanked me for doing such a good job and told me I was getting a small raise.

He also said that if I was interested in a promotion after I graduated from high school, he'd be happy to recommend me.

I thanked him and left the office.

I had gone in expecting to get caught. Instead, I'd been promoted, essentially, to chief ketchup investigator.

I never told him what I'd done.

Looking back, the part that bothers me isn't really the prank itself. It was a dumb thing to do, and the manager was understandably furious. What bothers me more is that another guy paid the price for something I did, largely because everyone disliked him so much that nobody was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And I walked away with a raise and a manager who thought I was trustworthy.

I don't know whether the guy ever realized that he hadn't been responsible for the incident. I doubt he did.

I do know that I never put ketchup packets under a toilet seat again.

I also never corrected the manager's impression of me as a particularly responsible young employee.

Years ago, I had this friend. I knew she had mental health struggles. I’m bad at responding to messages. I’m very very much working on it and would like to say I no longer leave people on delivered for weeks. She messaged me something innocent, nothing concerning. I didn’t open it, but I had read the notification. Then, weeks later, I’m at the coast for a day trip with some other friends, when one of them asks me if I know Georgie. I say I do. She tells me that she just saw a FB post from Georgie’s mother about Georgie’s death. That friend had went to highschool with Georgie and had seen us interact in each other’s comment sections.

I instantly remembered. The message. I never got to answer her.

Come her funeral. I pick up another friend who Georgie, her, and I always used to hang out together. Georgie and I made this friend together one night whilst lost and had become close with her. We start the drive to the other city where Georgie lived. I can’t remember why, but traffic was terrible. We arrived late, the building holding the service was full. We stood with some others outside the open door and tried our best to hear what was being said. It was hard.

Other stuff happened after the service, I spoke to Georgie’s mum. That was really important. She knew me. I had never met her. She’s a wonderful, wonderful lady.

This year, I wrote this poem for Georgie. It’s Georgie’s birthday today. I thought I’d share it:

'However Many Weeks On Read'

So.
I can’t even write ‘bout your funeral.
Couldn’t see it through the door.
Was late, I admit, the traffic got bad,
Listened to your playlist on the way there.

Can I lie and say I don’t meet you
in all the curly blondes or browns that I see.
What colour would you say your hair was?
How short was it when you died?
Can I write this to you?
Or must I pretend
I’ll see you typing back on the other side.

I think when we were younger you’d want some pretty words
I think now I’m older you’d want them the same.
I’ll give you a verse
Oh what could be worse
Than leaving you alone in that grave.

Georgie I’m trying but nothing sounds right for you.
26 letters, a keyboard, my mind.
I think
whatever I should say to you
should have been said
years ago.
That message you sent-
Yeah. I should have replied.

My mum died when I was 7 and my stepdad raised me, the first girlfriend he had after my mum, maybe 2 1/2, 3 years later? I absolutely terrorised the woman.
She would say hi to me and I would literally act like Damian from the Omen. I would just bluntly said I wish you were dead.
They were together almost 3 years and I never once gave her a break.
One time my stepdad went to the shop and I was sat with her in the kitchen.
I had a spatula in my hand and said anytime you move I’ll hit you with this, she was like what? And moved a bit, I hit her with the spatula. This continued for like 5mins then when my stepdad got him I told her if she said anything I’d kill her.
She told him immediately and he confiscated all my stuff like PlayStation etc.
I would just stare at her constantly. I would say you’re not my new mummy and she would say no of course I’m not trying to be! I was an absolute demon to her!
I also got given a sketch book at school so anytime I was upset in lesson I could just go and draw. It was about 3 months before anyone looked at it. Every page was me drawing a different scenario of his girlfriend getting killed.
Got hauled into the headteacher’s office the very next day as I was “disturbed”
Feel bloody sorry for her now I’m older and honestly don’t know how the poor woman put up with it!

I’m a girl by the way! Not sure why everyone is assuming I was a little boy.

I have always been infatuated with humping. I used to hump my pillows to masturbate, as it stimulated my clitoris on the outside and inside.

I have always love fat asses and twerking videos. I have recently discovered that I really want to have a woman with a big soft ass bent over or stand straight up, while i grab her hips and hump her soft ass on my bare clit. Or she bend over and twerk on my clit. The thought of that turns me on so much, though I dont know if I will ever get to the point of trying it.

I also would like to hump a woman standing up face to face, while i grab her ass and we hump clits together while kissing. I want to play with her ass and grab it and smack it and spread it and feel her asshole while we hump and grind clits. Just had to get this off my chest lol

Edit: yall thinking im a man is so funny to me😂 these are just my unfiltered desires guys idk what to tell you. i just like clitoral stimulation and I like womens asses and i have very specific fantasies pertaining to this. I would like my clit to be stimulated by a soft ass, not sure how thats so unbelievable, but there you go.🤷‍♀️

also, men cant even understand the sensation of a clitoris being stimulated via humping. It stimulates the clit externally and internally. they could never know or understand this sensation.

It was a cloth chair and the size of my palm. I didn’t know what to do because it genuinely caught me by surprise so I just pushed the chair in and ran away. I’ve been crying since. I think other ppl saw because i did have a slight noticeable reaction. I paused for just a moment. At first i thought it was trapped air ..then i realized the chair was cloth not plastic. I feel bad.. someone sat in 😔 .

When I was around 8 or 9 I would get dropped off at a day care type of thing after school at a church. On one of our weekend days we competed in an indoor race where who ever could touch the wall and make it back would win a prize (I don’t remember what it was but it was enough to convince myself it was worth dying over) so i ran to one side of the brick wall, touched it and ran back to touch the other wall. by the time i was about 5 feet from the wall i tripped and used my hand to catch myself, as my hand hit the wall my wrist broke in 2 places but the woman in charge was convinced it was just a sprain and told me to just put ice on it. All day i walked around with a broken hand with ice on it until my mom picked me up afterwards and took me to the hospital. In the next few days my mom had ripped the day care teacher a new one and i never went back there again. Then i dyed my hair the same blue color of my cast, cuz it gave me aura probably.

Hey everyone. I've contemplated whether it's even worth to post this here, as I understand that a lot of people won't think of it as a big deal, but here I am. I've never been able to talk about this to anyone, so i thought i'd come here.

I'm not sure how long it's been, but let's say about a year ago, I was talking to my mom and I found out that I was not planned. It was already decided that she was getting an abortion due to the family situation at the time, and to add on top of that, I have an brother who was about 2 years old at that time.

The morning of the abortion came. She was just about to leave the house when she received a call form her childhood friend who I will call Cleo (they were still very close friends and they still are to this day). Cleo knew about the situation and she also knew that the abortion was gonna happen on that day.

When my mom picked up the phone Cleo was crying immensely already, struggling to breath, and having a pretty bad time to say it shortly. She said that she had a horrifying dream about this situation that night, and she begged and begged and begged my mom not to go through with the abortion. She was saying that something terrible will happen if mom got the abortion, and as my mom told me, Cleo sounded really sure about it it, to the point where it got my mom very scared. Oddly enough, my mom changed her mind. Maybe she didn't really want to get it, but just felt that it was necessary because of the family situation, can't be sure.

To this day, my mom has no idea what really happened in that dream, and neither have I. Cleo is now my Godmother. We don't really speak much nowdays, but I remember that I loved her a lot when I was a kid. She lived down the street from our old house, and I recall going over by myself for hours a few time. I still get very happy to see her, even though that can be only once in a few years. I haven't seen here since I found out about all of this, and i'm planning to talk to her about it whenever we meet.

To make things clear, I have a very good relationship with my mom. I love her more than anything and I know she loves me too. We speak openly about most things, and that's why she told me about all of this, but she doesn't know about what's going on in my head daily.

I am a pretty lonely and depressed person. I am 21 now and I've been like that since I was 14/15. I've thought about ending it multiple times, even tried it a couple of times. I hate myself deeply for who I am and for the choices I've made throughout my life, but I won't get into it much here.

With that said and the story i just told, it's not really a good combination, since I've felt like even more of a burden for my mom now, knowing she didn't want me at first. It's been a year, and I'm still not sure how to feel about all of this. Sometimes I am grateful to Cleo, since she allowed me to have all the good memories I have, but when it gets bad, I can't help to wonder. If only she did not have that dream. Nothing would've happen. I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have to wake up everyday in this disgusting world that we live in.

EDIT: it's been a few hours since i posted this and already you guys have made a really big difference. Just reading what everyone has had to say about all of this warms my heart. Thank you so much, I really appreciate each and every word.

Just to clear the air, the last attempt I had was only SH, not ending it, and it has been almost 2 years since then. Been doing my best to stay clean since and you guys made it a lot easier. Thank you.

i froze my membership in march 2020. $54 a month down to zero.

i never unfroze it. but the card still opens the door.

i go three or four times a week and i have the whole time. that’s about 79 months at $54, so somewhere north of $4,000 i haven’t paid. to a company that made me do four phone calls and a letter to get the freeze in the first place.

the guy at the desk, Jason, he’s been there longer than i have, and he scans me in every morning and says nothing. so i keep going.

in january they'll put the price up to $64. i was furious for about four seconds.

I was on my way home with an acquaintance today, we were walking on our usual road today just talking about random stuff when we spotted a homeless looking person on the side of the road whos body was slanted in an unusual way like it didnt look right and was in a very weird position but i didnt think much of it till another guy walked up to the person and shouted "YEP HES GONE FOR SURE!" signaling to a distressed looking lady up front, it took a while to piece it all together but it clicked when i saw the ladys car had a dent in front of it and her panicked expression, then as if on impulse i burst out uncontrollably laughing at the whole thing as we walked past, but the person i was walking with seemed visibly shaken up by the whole situation and even called me out for laughing cuz apperently the lady heard me and even looked in our direction but i didnt notice, im home now and im thinking about the whole situation and i dont know how to feel about it. i dont even know why im posting about it rn maybe i wanna know if im just broken or wired differently or just straight up evil.

EDIT: the homeless guy was actually dead because i saw hes eyes were open adnd was unresponsive the other guy even confirmed it

EDIT 2: i genuinely thank you to everyone trying to help me make sense of the whole situation as it was a first for me and everybody trying to shame me for something i literally said was uncontrollable, i hope it makes you sleep better at night trying to make me feel bad cuz i really coundt careless about being evil or morbid or whatever word ur trying to label me as

Where I work, we don’t get paid for our lunch breaks. Depending on what shift I’m working, I either get a 45 min break or 1hr break. I’m a single parent and I’ve been struggling financially for the past few years. I can usually only afford to eat one meal a day so I tend to skip breakfast and lunch and I don’t eat until evening. On my breaks at work, I used to sit in the staff room and not have anything to eat. But I got so fed up of people questioning why I wasn’t eating that I just started working through my breaks. If a supervisor tells me to take my break I just say ok and go and work in a different area of the store, or if they ask if I’ve had my break yet I just say yes. Working straight through and keeping busy stops me from feeling hungry, because I’ve trained my brain to not recognise lunch as a thing. So yeah, my company has benefitted from loads of free labour from me, because I’m too poor to eat at work and too embarrassed to admit it.

I worked at Savers (uk) when I was 17 until i was 20. Sometimes when I could see people counting their change while I was scanning their shopping I would “accidentally” not scan a few of their things because I knew what it felt like to struggle and wonder if I would have enough money for my shopping. I wasn’t ever caught and I don’t regret it. These types of shops have insurance for those things so it never bothered me.

I’ve never really admitted this to anyone, but I think I have a problem with how much I watch porn. The weirdest part is that I don’t even necessarily watch it to masturbate. Sometimes I just watch it because I feel like it, almost like someone else would watch YouTube or scroll through social media as a hobby.

I find myself wanting to watch it when I’m with friends, when I’m around family, and even when I’m out in public. It’s like the urge to watch it is always somewhere in the back of my mind, regardless of what I’m doing or who I’m around.

I can go out and spend time with people, but part of my attention is still on wanting to watch porn. Sometimes I wonder if I even enjoy it as much as I think I do, or if it’s just become a habit that I automatically go back to whenever I have the chance.

The strangest thing is that I’m not even doing it for the usual reason people might assume. I genuinely just like watching it. I don’t really know when it became such a regular part of my life, and I’ve started wondering whether my relationship with it is normal anymore.

I feel embarrassed admitting this because it sounds ridiculous when I actually put it into words, but it’s something I’ve noticed about myself and haven’t really talked about with anyone. 20F

I have no interest in living.

I have a pretty normal life, good friends, good life too (according to others) but there's this void that I can't get rid of, I have no desire in doing anything no interests no favourites, often times whatever interests I have are either because they're perceived as "cool" by the society or maybe because the people around me like it. I don't have any suicidal tendencies(yet) (I don't wanna be a pain in the ass to the people around me, I don't wanna give them grief)

I know I'm very privileged to be able to say this, I'm aware of all of that yet I can't find a reason to look forward to the next day, even though everyday I do something different, I still feel the same. And I have this thought that I'll probably never be able to feel Love like other people do, people describe love in such beautiful ways that I'm sure i can never find myself doing so.

I don't feel anything much towards my parents, sure I'll cry when they die but i can't term that as love ( or maybe it is, I'm not sure)

My parents are great people, but not good parents.We're not poor by any means, we've had a comfortable life, I wouldn't say rich but comfortable yes, they're not that expressive, which I understand but I would be lying if I say, that they are not the reason I hated my birthdays or any events in my life. I wasn't abused mentally or physically, just not so great parents(I know it's their first time living too, that's why I never rebelled, not once.. did always what they liked/wanted) And I wonder maybe in the likes of doing things according to my parents preference I forgot my desires. Which is not necessarily the end of the world but I struggle to make decisions even smaller ones. I never made a decision because I wanted to make it, but rather because my parents liked it or it's the most beneficial for me or that's what others liked. I'm a simple person(or complicated ) I don't want a luxurious life, I want a normal life i want what other people have, actual healthy relationships. (Or maybe I'm just too privileged and ignorant to be acknowledging what a good life I have)

I see my friends and their relationship with their parents and can't help but wonder if I had different parents maybe I wouldn't be like this. I probably would know what being happy actually means.

I have an older brother who's.. well I wouldn't say we have the best bond ever but we get along. We're six years apart, so almost a generation gap between us, but i don't have any memories of us, never played with him, never went out with him, actually we did go out once because in a few months he was about to leave to a different place for his job. And it kinda sucks that I don't have the ideal relationship with him, do I love him?( I don't know much enough about him to love him) But would I fight for him(yeah, I guess if he's right) I often look at him and wonder how he's absolutely fine and thriving and enjoying his life and there's me within the same environment and parents and I turn out like this?

We talk once in a while, about daily stuff, nothing much maybe for an hour once every month or two months.

To an outsider, it might look like I have a lot of good friends(and it's true!) I have friends that are really good, but I never felt close enough to tell what I truly feel, why you ask? I don't know I don't wanna be vulnerable infront of them I think. I'm their go to friend or therapy friend you could say. It would definitely be a shocker to everyone of my friends if they get to know that I don't wanna live anymore. I do put up a pretty good act you can say.

And borderline everything looks fine, infact if I was a friend to myself, i wouldn't guess I was going through all of this ( or maybe I'm doing all of this to grab attention? And then I think there's nobody that knows this so who's attention am I grabbing?)

Life seems all rainbows and sunshine until one moment. Something happens/triggers and i start crying, for what? I don't know, sure I've had miserable moments in life, I've had not so good conversations with my mom leading me to believe she'll always prefer her son over me, or maybe a conversation with my dad leading me to believe he's never going to accept his mistake and I'll always be at fault no matter what( there are instances that i keep replaying in my head the moment i start crying) or me talking to my brother and realising how lifeless I'm living life when he tells me about his endeavours or how he's going out with friends and stuff, or me doing other people's work cause I can't say NO despite being tired. Often times I'm with people so I silently cry or cry myself to sleep at night.

Every time I drive a car, I feel like turning the steering wheel so hard that my car tackles a divider or a tree or anything and I get shattered into pieces.(Pretty graphic I know, that's why I don't drive and my dad believes me getting a driver's license is useless)

Is this normal? No way it's not and I know it. I can talk to somebody professional(and I tried it too) It didn't work out so I left it. And I'm a good kid, I know what people perceive of me, I mean what else will you be if you keep obeying everything from everyone.

Why am I writing this here? I don't know I seriously don't know, I'm not looking for any solution because to get out of this zone or whatever it is, it needs to be within, others can only show me the way, it's me who should pull me out of my misery (if you can call it misery)

If anybody's come till here, thanks ig for reading it, it's my first time letting my feelings out, I've been feeling like this since a decade (and I'm only 21) so I just rambled out stuff.

Many thanks for bearing with me.

I bought a fake degree a some years ago simply to inspire my kids, and impress my parents.

That’s it I’m not using it for employment or any other benefit. I just wanted to set an example for my kids and wanted get on the same level as my brother some he has a degree.

I relapsed on ketamine yesterday after almost a year clean, and I’m struggling with so much shame, guilt, and fear. I’m devastated about restarting my day count, but I think what hurts most is feeling like I’m losing the person I worked so hard to become. I don’t know why I would do this when this drug almost ruined my life and I was so lucky to go to rehab.

The last couple of weeks I’ve been heavily struggling with feeling like I’ve been mourning the beginning of my addiction. I have also felt lonely and like I’m wearing a mask. I almost feel like a con artist because I give advice to others but I can’t follow my own. I also struggle with being vulnerable and suffering in silence. I know I should’ve reached out more for help but I still didn’t.

Throughout my recovery, I’ve shared my story, encouraged others, and tried to give people hope. I’ve received so much recognition, and I’m grateful that my experiences have helped people. But I think somewhere along the way, I started feeling like I had to live up to this image of being strong, inspiring, and almost cured. I wanted people to be proud of me, and I think I started tying my self-worth to that recognition. I was just so happy to see my loved ones being so proud of me too for once.

Now I feel like a fraud, even though I know the hope I gave others was real. I’m terrified to tell my, friends, sponsor, and family because I’m afraid they’ll see me differently. But I think I’m even more afraid of having to see myself differently. I feel so much guilt for keeping it to myself but so much anxiety and shame about the truth.

I grew up with my dad telling me I was going to be a failure. Part of me believed him, and I think I learned to work twice as hard to hide anything that might confirm what he said. I’ve always struggled with people-pleasing, putting others’ feelings before my own, and suffering in silence. I hate being the person who needs help. I’m much more comfortable giving advice and supporting others than admitting when I’m struggling myself.

I wonder if I’ve been trying so hard to prove I’m not a failure that I’ve made it difficult to accept being human. I know recovery isn’t about being cured, and I know almost a year of progress doesn’t disappear because of a relapse. But knowing that intellectually and actually believing it about myself are two different things.

I don’t want to keep wearing this mask or pretending I’m okay because I’m afraid of disappointing people. I just needed to admit this somewhere because carrying it alone has been exhausting.

Has anyone else experienced this? Have you ever built an identity around being the strong or inspirational person in recovery and then felt terrified that a relapse would take that identity away? How did you learn to separate your self-worth from your recovery progress and let people see you struggling without feeling like you’d failed?

I want to stop hiding. I’m just scared of what happens when I do. I know I’ve answered a lot of my own questions in ways but I’m just feeling really fucking lost. Thanks to anyone who reads this or responds.

I was not a billionaire back then and still is not but I was working at a supermarket and earned a low salary to pay for college. I shared a house with 4 people and we shared a bathroom. There was 1 bathroom for the 5 of us which meant we had to wait if one person was in the bathroom.

One time I needed to poo and someone was in it so I waited outside. The problem was I was bored and trying to hold it back so I was searching if there was something in my pocket to play with. I found a yo-yo that was in my pocket for a long time. It was round and light blue with a creepy smile on its face with some kind of weird water inside and a loop for my finger. I was playing with it until the person came out, and I should have put it safely in my pocket but for some random reason I just continued playing with it my hand.

I went in the toilet and pooped an atomic bomb and while I was pooping I was spinning it so hard the yo-yo got loose for my hand and fell directly in the toilet. I was like shit and I tried to grab it out but it was already in my damn poop. So I just flushed it hoping it would not block the toilet. I was so stupid to flush it and it actually flushed. I was like for the next 2 hours in my room thanking god.

But the next day my roommates called us to discuss something by then I had already forgotten about the yo-yo. They said that the toilet was broken and that it couldn’t flush. My face instantly turned red and felt so guilty. The roommate said that then house owner would call a plumber to come and check but we had to pay it. We all had to pay the 1/5 of the price I felt so bad. I gave my money and my roommates also gave it while complaining that they saved a weeks meal money and borrowing from there mum. Eventually the plumber got it out and I was the only one home so they told me a yo-yo was stuck in there causing it to malfunction. I just nodded pretending I knew what they were saying. I also held a meeting about it.

Writing this makes me want to puke and I still haven’t told them abut it but I was the reason the toilet broke. We eventually left and I went to college and we all forget about it and maybe each other but I don’t. I feel like vomiting shit.

I feel bad I’m a terrible person but I was so fucking hungry I’m so broke i have no food the food bank couldn’t get me in until January 15 because holidays are busy idk wha Ticim going to do I don’t want to do hat again I have sinned and I feel terrible I only took two small muffins two yoghurt cups and 5 little sausages 4 for me 1 for my dog so I wasn’t gluttonous but still I’m a thief

EDIT: I don’t want you guys to worry about my dog okay he has a big 14kg bag of purina lamb and rice his favorite I made sure to spend the last of my spending money on that cuz I know I won’t be making more for awhile I just wanted to get him one sausage anyways as a treat because he’s a good boy he has food I will always make sure of that but thanks for worrying about him ❤️

EDIT: idk why people think I’m homeless but I’m not homeless I rent a apartment you can have a home and no food to eat like

EDIT: I live in Canada lol

I 30m was laid off from my software developer job of 5years a year ago. I applied for jobs full time for as long as I could afford it. As I got close to the end of my severance I concluded that my resumes kept getting filtered out because I don’t have a degree.

Now I have a part time job in retail and take part in my states free community college program. The stress from barely being able to afford my mortgage, feelings or failure, and packed schedule makes it hard to feel engaged in my classes. I started by using Claude as a study tool. Having it reword or explain things in the textbooks I didn’t understand. Now I can’t be bothered and just want the extra work to be done.

Part of me feels guilty because I know I could produce good work if I were in a better space but my hearts not in it. Things have moved so fast in the industry in the past year that I’m already way behind. Who knows where it’ll be by the time I get my degree and if I’ll even want to do this kind of work anymore.

At 31, I was hospitalized two times within 6 days of each other. One I could not catch my breath at work and the other I woke up not breathing well enough for comfort. They put me on oxygen, my finger reading was low to mid 80s

They said I will be fine for now but I need to go in for an early COPD evaluation because they keep giving me these looks, these odd and strange or even pity looks.

And I still want a cigarette so damn bad I am smoking one right now. What is wrong with me lol

In the past 7 days or so I’ve sent money to about 5-6 different women. Maybe around $360 total split between all of them

Some of them are partners I’ve already had sex with. Some I haven’t even met in person yet.

1 of them thinks we’re in a committed relationship. Others think we aren’t but exclusive sexually. Others believe I’m trying to build something more.

I send the money without them asking.

Is this bad ?

this all happened over the span of about a month when i first started college, so i was 18. i am now 20. i started talking to a guy, and it seemed kinda casual, but i was hoping it may lead to us dating, as i had never had a boyfriend before, and didnt get my first (now) boyfriend until over a year later. we talked for a few weeks, texted during the week and then he would stay the night at my dorm after clubbing on the weekends. one night i didn’t go out, and my friends found him dancing and flirting with other girls at the club and trying to go home with them. i ended up confronting him later that night with my friend, since i was upset (i didn’t have a right to be upset though because we weren’t dating) and got food with him, and we talked about where he was going to stay for the night. i ended up saying i didn’t want him to stay at my dorm, and he had to sleep in his car, which he was rightfully upset as there was three people sleeping in the car. i ended up saying something along the lines of “it’s fine, just don’t do it again” likely saying that if he wanted to stay at my dorm the next weekend. i don’t remember every detail of what we said since i was a little high, and i suspect he was also drunk since he was clubbing an hour earlier. however, the next few days my roommate and i were analyzing everything, and we figured he was never truly interested in me at all, rather he was using me as a place to stay after clubbing and maybe try and have sex too. so, i was pissed and figured we would never end up working out, and i’d probably end up cutting him off at some point, sooner rather than later. a week after i confronted him, i went out and had the opportunity to go home with someone else. i went home with them partly because i was hurt, partly because i wanted revenge, and partly because i figured “i’d just finish what he started”. the next few days however, i felt extremely guilty about what i did and texted him to cut everything off. we were in contact for about a total of a month.

i know what i did was hypocritical and vengeful at the least, but im terrified that i cheated. is it possible to cheat on someone you’re not officially dating? i know the whole time i had the impression that i was still single, but im terrified that the confrontation ended up making us exclusive and i didn’t realize/ forgot the next day. i don’t remember us agreeing to be exclusive, but not remembering doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

this is by far the worst thing ive ever done, and it’s tearing me up. i don’t want to give the details of how much it’s affecting me because i don’t want sympathy bias. i also feel extremely guilty for thinking about this so much, because im still with my first boyfriend (who im also terrified of cheating on) and im worried this counts as thinking about other men.

my mom and my therapist said i didnt cheat, it wasnt nice, but i didnt cheat. however im still terrified that perhaps theyre biased or theyre lying to me because they know my worst fear is cheating. any advice is appreciated, especially ones that define certainty as ive googled this hundreds of times within the last week.

I was scrolling through Netflix the other day and I came across Homicide:New York.

True crime isn’t usually my thing. But it was a really boring day off.

The first episode was a guy that was beaten in his manhattan apartment.

Then I saw the last name Comunale. It instantly rang a bell. I worked for the Tri Ed Corporation as a warehouse clerk back in 2016. The owner and president was a guy named Pat Comunale. His son was Joey Comunale was killed.

And I remember he would come into our branch and being a complete dick. I was asked to fill the refrigerator with bottled water. I was walking by him and a couple of other office staff talking, he literally yanked it out of my hands and just started chugging it. Like not a please or a thank you. That was just one of our interactions, let’s just say they were all negative.

Then it was the same day he told us that they were taking away our vision coverage.
And I look at a computer all day and I need glasses.

Just a swift kick to the gut to people that work for you.

But I moved on after he sold the company that sold my job down the river.

So when I saw the episode, I felt bad for his wife but I didn’t feel bad for him. I really didn’t.

This happened at my previous job, and I still feel uncomfortable thinking about it.

We had a new guy join our team. He was quiet, a little nervous, and clearly trying hard to make a good impression. You know how it is when you're new at a company and everyone else already knows the unwritten rules.

One afternoon, I was rushing to finish a report before a deadline. I accidentally uploaded an outdated version to our shared folder. I noticed the mistake, but I was already late for another task, so I told myself I'd fix it later.

The next morning, our manager opened the report during a team meeting and immediately noticed that several numbers were wrong.

He asked who had uploaded it.

Before I could say anything, someone mentioned that the new guy had recently been working with those files. My manager turned to him and asked whether he'd made the changes.

The new guy looked genuinely confused. He tried explaining that he'd only reviewed the document and hadn't uploaded anything, but nobody seemed convinced.

Then my manager asked if anyone else knew what had happened.

I knew.

I was sitting right there, looking at the exact file I'd uploaded the previous afternoon.

All I had to do was say, "That was actually my mistake. I uploaded the wrong version."

Instead, I stayed quiet.

Worse, when one of my colleagues made a joke about how the new guy was already causing problems, I laughed along with everyone else.

I don't even know why. Maybe I was afraid of looking careless. Maybe I thought someone else would figure it out. Whatever the reason, I let an innocent person take the blame for something I'd done.

After the meeting, I saw him sitting at his desk, checking the report again and again. He looked so worried that I almost told him the truth right there.

Instead, I went to lunch.

That afternoon, I overheard him asking another colleague whether people usually got into trouble for mistakes like this. He said he really needed the job and didn't want to mess up during his first few weeks.

That sentence hit me harder than anything my manager could have said.

I had been worried about looking incompetent over a spreadsheet, while this guy was worried that a mistake he hadn't even made might damage his reputation at a brand-new job.

I finally told my manager what had happened and explained that I'd uploaded the wrong version. He corrected the record, and the new guy wasn't held responsible.

I apologized to him privately, too. He said it was fine, but I don't know whether he actually meant it.

We're not enemies or anything. We still talk normally when we cross paths.

But I keep thinking about how easily I could have prevented the whole situation, and how I chose my own comfort instead.

The mistake itself was small. The part I'm ashamed of is knowing the truth and watching someone else suffer because I didn't want to admit it.