Snook - 11+ Hours of Disturbing Reddit Confessions

Episode Date: March 29, 2026

This is 11+ hours of some disturbing reddit confessions! This is a megacompilation of some of the most wild, disturbing and shocking reddit threads I have ever read... I hope you enjoy! And let me know if you would like to see more videos like this in the future! Thank you all for listening! Make sure you rate the podcast 5 stars and follow! Thank you all so much for listening! Make sure to subscribe to the Patreon for early access videos and many more perks! https://www.patreon.com/SnookYT Also! Go follow me on Spotify and Instagram! Yes, my voice is human. The channels subscriber goal is 1 million, so subscribe! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to the podcast. And today we're getting into 11 hours of some disturbing Reddit confessions. You guys have loved the Reddit Confession series so much that I thought I'd treat you guys to nearly half a day of some disturbing, deranged, and insane confession threads. This will be a mega compilation, so I hope you enjoy. And this is perfect to listen to if you're studying, sleeping, have a long drive ahead of you, or have a long shift ahead of you. so I hope you guys find some value out of this and I'll quote my yapping because you're about to hear a lot of it and so yeah sit back relax grab a drink or grab a snack and without further ado let's get into 11 hours of some disturbing reddit's confessions one drug-fueled night killed me

January 12th 2024 will forever live in infamy that Friday night irreversibly turn my happy, healthy, successful life upside down. This is a tale of party drugs. It's also a life and death journey I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams. Call it a heroin dive into extremes of the human condition or a case study at the intersection of medicine, pharma, policy, and brain science. As the one who lived it, writing this 11 months later is my confession. assembling these shards of a shattered world into one broken mosaic. Here it goes. At my brother's 50th birthday in Cabo,

booger sugar fueled the festivities, and by no means a user. I'm also not a novice. I'm a typical millennial who never looked for drugs, but is not afraid to try something passed by friends. For context, I've lived a drama-free life, successful by any metric.

I have a bunch of advanced degrees and manage a small but thriving international company. I'm also an understated middle child by nature, so making noise or having weird stuff happen is not my deal. Until that night, I'd coasted without anything major ever going wrong. Being in my early 40s, my partying days are in the past. And January was the first time in probably a decade since business school touching party drugs. Over several hours at a place called Bagatelle, where the opening dinner of the three-day bash took place. I had a dozen plus lines and bumps of booger sugar, sipping rum. It was a festive, if over-the-top scene, as our group of 40 danced atop the long birthday table,

stepping over plates while champagne magnums carried between waiters were poured directly into mouths like parishioners taking communion. It was not a typical Friday night, but all were having fun celebrating my bro. So chemically speaking, booger sugar and alcohol were the first ingredients in my blood. As midnight approached, I was handed by a banker. What I was told was a pill brought from San Francisco. I'd taken pills twice, once at a wedding in Prague, before that at a club in Aruba, and had good experiences. I didn't particularly want to roll that night in Cabo,

being late and tired from flying out of D.C. at the crack of dawn, having just gone back from Columbia days before, so I nearly said, no thanks. But your brother only turns half a century once, and I didn't overthink it. I split the cap and half with my fingers, swallowed what I figured was a light dose, and kept on with the party.

The biggest mistake of my life. life across all years, the one that changed everything. When added to Booger Sugar, pills instantly had a negative effect. In previous roles, I hadn't mixed it. This time, I felt an overwhelming anxiety. An hour into that state I had to leave the party. I was consumed by unease and unable to talk. When I got back to my room, I couldn't sleep.

It was no surprise since Booger Sugar belabors the process of of settling down, so I lay awake, passing out after sunrise. When I woke that afternoon, the angst hadn't abated. I stayed in my room, skipping day two of the birthday bash, waiting for the malaise to pass. I'd never had a mood disorder or taken a psych med, so long-lasting unease was entirely new. Day three came and went with me cooped up.

My phone filled with messages as I skipped the close of the 72, our celebration. And that's when the real problem started. On the third night, when I tried to sleep, no sleep came, none. On day four, January 16th, I flew to Mexico City for routine work meetings and events. The same pattern continued that night, and the one after, no sleep. By the end of the sixth sleepless night, having barely scraped through what would have otherwise been stress-free, in CDMX, I flew home to D.C., assuming all would return to normal in my bed. Nothing changed back home. A seventh, sleepless night became an eighth, with an hour or two of broken rest,

constantly springing wide awake with churning anxiety. It was as if my brain had gotten stuck in fight or flight mode with no off switch. In my prior life, a restless sleep, say from a red-eye flight before a big speech or a tough board meeting, would lead to sheer exhaustion the following evening, crashing hard from the lack of rest, but catch-up sleep never came with this bizarre pill insomnia. I didn't get sleepy, no matter how many nights passed. After two weeks, I knew in my gut something big was up, after seeing my family doctor, I was referred to a psychiatrist for the first time,

who began to treat me with introductory sleeping pills, starting with trozodone. Those didn't put a dent in my insomnia, and I was rotated to stronger categories of prescription. This process repeated for the next month as I worked with a growing roster of psychiatrists and sleep neurologists who wrote scripts for sequentially more heavily controlled meds. These trials included every sedative under the sun. I won't relist them, suffice to say, I left no stone unturned. Just the categories of sleeping-inducing R-Xs I cycled through. Searching with doctors for one that worked, included, and he lists a ton,

but some notable ones, just antipsychotics, anti-convulsants, antips, meltonin modulators, Z drugs, beta-blockers, tricycles, tricyclics, tetracyclics, benzos, adrogenic receptor agonists, and that's just a ton. He also says, I had every blood work panel done, a sleep study, sleeping 50 minutes across the night, an MRI, EEG, hired a CBTI coach, etc. Nothing helped or provided doctors any insight into what happened in my brain. By the three-month mark, I'd trialed 40-plus prescriptions. Here, let me explain how so-called psych drugs work.

When prescribed on-label for mood disorders like depression, anxiety, and bipolar, these drugs take weeks, if not months, to take effect. But when prescribed off-label for the sole purpose of promoting sleep, these same drugs either work or don't work on the first night. Providing diminishing returns as tolerance builds. That's how I was able, under doctor's supervision, to test every hypnotic R-ax in existence over 90 days, searching for an elusive solution. The newest designer meds, like the Dora's, had to be specifically ordered by the pharmacy.

As weeks passed, I became so desperate for sleep that I showed out $1,000 for one called quivided, which has helped Matthew Perry, not knowing if it would work. It didn't. Against these sleepless nights, I tried to wear myself down, spending every day in the gym and running miles outside. My goal became to tire myself to sleep. I was like a warrior fighting this battle and inadvertently got into the best shape of my life. People's passing compliments couldn't imagine the dark source of my transformation. Still, nothing changed at night.

Piece by piece I removed as many stressors as possible, hoping that putting one, on the back burner might help. So fighting a tug of war with my heart, that exhaustion eventually won. I pushed all intensity and passion from my personal life into the background in a way that's haunted me since. At work, I'd been doing what I could do to keep up on top of a running company, masking my increasingly drained appearance and depleted mental state, reminiscent of Edward Norton's workplace struggle with insomnia in Fight Club. Anyone who saw me in the those days will know that the giveaway of this scene being fiction is Norton's eyes aren't nearly sunken enough, as might I become. On days when I couldn't function, I couched my absence

as migraines among colleagues and friends. Too embarrassed to say I wasn't sleeping, something that comes naturally to everyone, as it did me for 42 years prior. On top of this, I was ashamed by the source, a frivolous party drug. In admission, I couldn't broadcast beyond doctors, so I gutted it out in silence. Eventually, the mental and physical toll became unsustainable, and I had to start an indefinite leave of absence from the job I loved. I cut out all travel and commitments,

canceling trips, reassigning roles, and appointing surrogates. Still, nothing I did to streamline my work. my life changed the sleeplessness. I never yawned or got tired. All I could ever manage was an hour or two of medicated sleep, holding out hope with each passing week that a new drug cocktail might finally bring restorative rest. Across three months, I'd invested tens of thousands of dollars, seeing all experts in a four-hour radius of DC, most of whom don't take insurance. yet I was no closer to a solution, let alone a basic understanding of what medically I was facing. I went to hospital ERs, begging to be put into a coma for just one night of rest,

as Jordan Peterson, who I'd met once, had done for eight days in Russia. But not being S-word, despite insomnia as its biggest risk factor, I could never get past triage. I reduced my daily routine to the communist activities. sushi diet, textbook sleep hygiene. No matter what I did to lulu lemonify my life, I couldn't sleep. It was a hell you can't imagine without relief, not one night. By mid-April, month four, encouraged by my doctors and the few people I had led into my struggle, I took the next step. I checked myself into the first of a series of private hospital residences to treat this

mysterious condition with 24-hour care. Across the past two decades, I might have taken four sick days. So flying to a clinic, let alone leaving work for weeks, was out of character to say the least. In late April and early May, I traveled to Texas, going inpatient at one of the top health facilities in the country. It's the kind of private hospital oasis set among manicured gardens and quiet walking paths that takes away your phone on arrival, so nothing can distract getting well. while there I was placed on a different kind of med, an SSRI, with no apparent relation to sleep. It was prescribed to treat the increasing anxiety surrounding me as I shut my life down. Lexapro, a serotonin re-uptake inhibitor, affects 5HT, the same neurotransmitter as the pill I took.

Miraculously and unexpectedly for doctors, Lexapro put me to sleep. two weeks my life went back to normal. I flew home, filled with gratitude, energized to restart where I left off with more passion than ever. I jumped into work and rebuilt the personal connections I'd so missed. After what I'd been through, life had handed back in a way that's impossible to describe unless you lose yours for a while. I was beaming. No one second guess the positive results. After all, Lexer Pro targets the same protein as the pill I took. Serotonin. A signal fire as to what had gone wrong back in January. I felt like I'd beaten the scariest thing I'd ever faced, and for two weeks, Lexer Pro was my lifeline. But in a cruel twist of fate,

so hard to look back on now. As I adjusted to the SSRI, the insomnia, came back. I stuck with the trial for seven weeks in the hope it would pass, but my sleeplessness only got worse than ever. I switched to another serotonin modulators like Trinalex, but nothing put me back to sleep. The honeymoon of Lexapro became a bittersweet memory of rest that disappeared as unexpectedly as it arrived. A few weeks later in June, I finally saw the chief sleep neurologist at Johns Hopkins Medicine, Dr. Early, who I've been trying to get in with for months, but is booked a year in advance as the National Authority of Sleep Science in the Brain. A family friend on the Hopkins board helped me get up on the list. On hearing my story after examining my chart and consulting with

his colleague at Hopkins, neurologist George Ricarte, a leading researcher on amphetamine and the pill I took neurotoxity since the 90s. Dr. Early told me what I'd taken in Mexico caused a one in a million reaction in my brain. When combined with the volatile punch of dopamine from the booger sugar, the pill created a serotonin syndrome that fried my 5HT system through toxicity. Serotonin controls sleep in a way that requires a delicate balance. This is why a few days of insomnia after taking a pill is typical, just not permanent. For most people, down-regulated receptors,

restore, but in rare cases, irreversible neurosis can occur. Dr. Early told me I wasn't the first he'd seen and referred to literature about a range of pathologies from even one-time pill users. With candor, I accepted. Dr. Early couldn't say if my brain would ever recover. Why, Lexapro worked, then stopped, or if anything, would let me sleep again. Seeing the exhaustion in my eyes. He agreed to treat me on an experimental basis and ordered a week-long sleep study for more data. Becoming the test patient to one of America's most seasoned neurologist was both affirming, given the extremes I've been through, and terrifying for what it signaled about the road ahead. June gave way to July, and the sixth month anniversary of my insomnia was fast approaching.

As this dreary milestone neared, I became isolated and was losing hope. I hadn't been to work in months, had retreated from my inner circle, and lost precious parts of my life that meant the world to me. More than $200,000 had been spent going to the country's top clinics, ending up at the retreat, a full-service facility near Baltimore that runs $50,000 every 20 days and takes zero insurance. I lost even more in unrealized projects and ideas, but no price mattered, investing whatever it took to get better, knowing not just sleep, but increasingly everything was on the line. Still, after seeking the best of the best, no one could stop the insomnia. Tell me how long the hell would last or if it would ever leave. Doctors had also run out of medications to try, the last being the anesthetic Zyrum,

aka GHB, the infamous date R-word drug from Diddy's Parties, a Schedule I narcotic prescribed by Dr. Early as an extreme measure. The most controlled substance in America, only one central pharmacy is authorized to dispense it. Zerom was taken forever to get approved, required passing through complex safety hoops and cost $25,000 per month. Receiving it was a month away, with no indication it would work where others fail.

Sleep deprivation is a form of torture considered among the worst. Losing a single hour of rest makes Division I athletes miss twice as many shots the next day. The most sublime music ever written, Box Goldberg Variations, was commissioned to treat mad King Ludwig's insomnia when sleeplessness drove him crazy. We've all experienced at some point the relentless feeling after one sleepless night from a red eye. In just three days, sleep deprivation breaks prisoners of war into giving up classified secrets. So by the time my insomnia hit the six-month mark in July, the once unfathomable thought of cutting my life short slowly started to creep into my mind as a last resort for rest. Insomnia had become my deathbed.

Compounding this was a chemical catch-22. It's paradoxial, but the most effective drugs doctors used for life-saving sleep come up. with black box warnings and fine print about triggering depression and S word. So my hopelessness around not sleeping was being pharmacologically amped up by the meds I've been prescribed to sleep. I was trapped in a damned if you do, damned if you don't loop with no escape between crippling depression from not sleeping or the same from sleeping pills. This snowballing downward spiral is how coming from a guy who'd in December 2023 been the happiest in my entire life with a thriving company I was expanding, cherished waterfront in Canada,

and on the Chesapeake I'd spent years developing into Gardens of Eden to enjoy forever, a skylit place in the city, financial freedom, beloved mentors and colleagues surrounded me, a dream job that took me everywhere on the earth, a full heart, in short, all I ever wanted more. And by the time of July 2024, rolled around. The person I'd become wasn't recognizable as me. It was two lives because I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think, engage, or feel pleasure. I was a walking zombie who hadn't rested since January.

It was worse than anything I could have ever imagined would happen to anyone I knew. List of all me. So for an eternal optimist who'd never felt down for any strong, much less considered the idea of ending it all in my wildest nightmares, even as something I'd understand in other suffering, never able to grasp what could bring someone to that state. And by July, Esward ideation had become my everyday battle. It sometimes said that such things are selfish. I thought that way too.

But through the unending attrition, what came to feel selfish was continuing to drag the world down with me. a clean break would free us all. Let me be clear on something. Weakness played no part in what follows. Those who've known me know I'm virtually unbreakable. No one builds the life I did without limitless resolve, nor could they endure the parts of the story still to come without iron will.

But the laws of nature are fact. No man, no matter how resilient or brave can fight biology forever and win. sleep exists for a reason we cannot be without it there is no alternative after spending the sleepless night of july fourth watching fireworks on the baltimore skyline from my room at the retreat remembering my old life watching fireworks the year before on the tread-off on river among friends now a distant memory from my past life when all was well two morning later as i gave up my last ounce of hope and ever getting better Hope was replaced by the sinking feeling of a kamikaze pilot for a one-way mission, summoned to his final test of courage.

The universe had left one way to end the endlessness and get the rest I desperately sought for so long. Fighting back tears, I scribbled a short goodbye note, remembered a final time the people in life I'd been so in love with before this all started, cursed God for cursing me and committed S-word. I've always flown under the radar, never seeking attention. So doing the unthinkable wasn't a masked plea, as it can be with those who choose other alternatives and rarely succeed by design. That wasn't me for a minute.

I had already tried every path for help. I'm a quick study. In my method, instead, represented a decision. I made a strong noose and secured it at such a height that nothing could allow me to turn back once the process began. knowing there would be excruciating pain before blacking out. I told myself it couldn't feel worse than what I'd already endured. So I bit my lip, prepared for that moment and the eternal unknown to follow. Against every probable outcome, I partially failed or partially succeeded,

depending on the measuring stick. You could call it my first piece of good luck in six months, coming at a crucial time. On the other hand, what I did forever changed my life, I had and wanted, the people around me, and all that followed. I'm here, but not in a way that feels like me, no matter how far I search for a cure this time. This story has a morose second act. Since the original intent was to share an advisory, not explore psychological torture,

I hadn't planned to delve into the next chapter of my saga since July. But because it's all the ripple effect from January, and although it includes shameful details, I'm writing this map of underage. hearted territory for others who get blown off course. So here's the rest of my tale. At the end of my third week in the retreat outside of Baltimore in early July, with the best doctors in the world no more closer to helping me than any had been at the start of my journey six months ago, I gave up. Despite sharing with my doctors a growing belief that the end was drawing near and petrified family members calling to warn of the despair in my voice

and feared was coming. Naively, nurses had loaned me a 14-foot-charge-fired. cable. Outside in some woods nearby, out of view, I fastened the cable to a sturdy branch on an overturned log above a stream and doubled it twice around my neck. I've always been drawn to water, so above a trickling creek was the only spot on campus I could live with, so to speak, to say goodbye. I rolled my body off the edge. The noose caught, cinched tight, and I passed out. Sometime later, no one knows how long, one of the cords snapped, then the other, and I fell. Two bursts of orange flooded my head in flashes of the most intense pain I've ever known as consciousness returned. My eyes popped open and I jolted back to life like a scene from a movie, but the right side of my body was numb.

I had twitching fingers, double vision, pulsating pupils, uncontrollable shivering, and other weird thermodynamic effects from starving my brain of oxygen long enough to shut it down. This was all later diagnosed as an brain injury to my left hemisphere. When alert enough to rise, I stumbled back to the retreat and turn myself in. I was escorted to the emergency room in delirium, coping with the effects of the brain injury I just suffered, compounded by the insomnia that broke me down in the first place. Nothing would let me escape. I was trapped in an episode of Black Mirror or the Twilight Zone. Then, in a twist of dark humor from the universe that even made Dr. Early laugh when he heard it, I became sleepy in the ER for the first time in six months.

Somehow, restarted my brain, brought intense fatigue, which none of the 40-plus medications could ever do, so I dosed in and out of my consciousness for three days as MRIs, echocardiograms, and other tests were done to look for necrosis or a heart attack. Despite my self-induced asphyxiation, I was being kept on the hospital's stroke unit, rather than its protected psych floor. My well-groomed appearance and polished manner may have deceived doctors into not seen the risk, ignoring what had just brought me in. That's how, shortly before, I was scheduled to be transferred to a trauma unit on the afternoon of July 9th, still in anoxic delirium, I darted from the sitter watching me, when distracted to the sixth floor exit down the hospital. hall. Without pause, I dove headfirst down the stairwell center, figuring a six-story drop would end the suffering once and for all. But the sitter chased as I went over the edge, catching my foot

for a split second long enough before my socks slipped through her hand that I flipped as I free fell down the stairwell center. In mid-air somersaults, I bounced off a railing, zigzagging my trajectory to land headfirst three floors down instead of free-falling six stories. Cries above, sounded the alarm as doctors from every floor rushed to the stairwell, peering down in disbelief through my motionless, glazed eyes. Against all odds, the Red Sea parted. I had a pulse still. Somehow, going three floors didn't kill me, as it did fellow musical soul Liam Payne recently. But when the back of my head hit the concrete, it deviated my eyes in a way that makes three-d vision hard, called Strabismus. and gave me acquired a fantasia, which means losing your mind's eye.

When I close my eyes now, I'm blind. Every image from my life was a race on impact, so I can't picture what anyone looks like, envision the future, lock onto my eyes in the mirror, read without saying words in my head, navigate without GPS, and a myriad of ways just shutting off your imagination reshapes you. I was told I'm a visual person my whole life, so losing this feels like losing me. In more dark humor from fate, acquired aphantasia like the pill insomnia is exceedingly wear because rear ocepical brain damage happens less frequently than to frontal lobes, like head-on car crashes.

So I'm navigating this new condition again in the dark, flying blind. After my fall, the scent of liability attracted hospital lawyers like sharks to blood, who threw the book at me to cover up errors. I was strapped to a gurney, sent to a ward, and locked away for 40 days. Most of the time on one-on-one, which is like solitary confinements, but with someone standing at arm's length,

24-7, even in the shower, even in bed. Still in a trance from my head colliding with cement, I thought about Noah in the flood, and Moses in the desert. I began to talk to my shadow, this alter ego beside me, like the voice in the burning bush on the mountain. Her name was Sam.

When I was strong enough to walk, walked in circles, endlessly through that wilderness, a stranger in a strange land. Sam's voice beside me brought periodic news of the outside, beyond the walls. An assassin shot Trump at a rally, but the bullet grates his ear, a giant bridge across the Chesapea collapsed nearby, cars dropping into the water as stones into a pond. My world inside and out had become magical realism. One hundred years of solitude. Fiction morphed in fact in this Borgadier, Giesian Labyrinth.

My sleepless life was the recrium for a dream. Given my apparent pension for transforming supposedly secure campuses into death traps, ward leadership was terrified of a lawsuit. So that meant all eyes on me, day and night, a never-ending watch. My world was paper scrubs, paper spoons, rubber mattress, plastic pillow, no sheets, metal toilet, no lid, sock home shower, no curtain. strip searches at sunup and sundown, the pattern repeated day after day, I'd become their Al Capone, Hannibal Lecter, without the Goldberg Variations as company, the Kirk Cobain of insomnia. But their overzealous posturing didn't matter. The moment to save me came before I arrived.

I did my time and six weeks later was released in mid-August. Since then, I've survived by planting and cutting trees and long adventures with my dog, trying to keep at bays, depressions, downward pull of gravity with a force I never knew existed, like I'm wearing lead shoes, worn out by a year without rest, now navigating deficits of new brain trauma. I keep thinking back to my life before this all started and the dreams I had to leave behind along the way. I can't understand why any of it happened, and I still can't sleep much. Most recently, I've spent September, October, and November fighting poison with poison by doing every last ditch brain reset known to man, including six weeks of TMS, five weeks of K, four SGB neck injections used by the military, and soon tri-weekly ECT under general anesthesia.

All that's missing for Christmas are two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree. But no brain reset touches me. My mind is blank. My heart is out. There are no more stars in the sky. When you added up, what I've lived since January is so unbelievable it couldn't be fiction. Only fact. And now the sleepless nights that started it are the prelude to an even stranger chapter I'm still awakening in. No pun. I've never been a fan of melodrama, but I can't help feeling like I missed life's chance. Derailing onto the wrong track one night out.

My train now headed in another direction. After being the conductor my whole life, I've become a powerful. passenger, seeing where each day goes. I don't know where this new ride leads. I can still, right, but I'll see ability to be succinct, as I have to say words in my head. It's all see change. The harder they come, the harder they fall, the happy, go lucky me of December 20203 has become a distant character in a film I miss. Every moment radiates from the past. Through the fog of time between then and now it's a miracle and a curse that I made it. January 12th will permanently mark in some way the last day of my life.

My nights of party drugs may rank among the most life-changing neurotoxic stories of all time. I'm the exception, not the rule, but I'm not the only one. The world is full of terrified people with lasting insomnia from taking pills. Here's one, here's another. and the OP linked to different articles of people and people on Reddit that this exact same thing happened to them. And very scary that this isn't the only person. But the OP continues saying all variations of a theme. Most get shot down by the mob who doubt a drug they love could do so much damage.

You can't understand until it happens to you. I've since discovered so many lives broken by this chemicals dark side. If you look up NIH case reports, you'll find. permanent anxiety disorders and intracable psychosis brought on by even one-time pill use and otherwise healthy people, as I was. If you search blogs for long-term come down, L-TH, there are troves of devastating accounts of roles creating neurosis lasting months, years, forever. People from around the world have contacted me to share heart-wrenching life turns.

My case is exceptional, like Dr. Early said, one in a million. But if I had any idea I was playing the lottery, even at one in a billion odds, even a trillion, I would have never taken the cap handed to me. I love life too much to risk it. What hit my brain eventually took away the best parts of me. I can't make sense of it, nor will I ever. I'll also always wonder what good was waiting just around the corner if I'd only taken the other return that night. It's too much to think about. I don't understand fate, but I didn't deserve this.

No one does. For 999,999 people out there, since chances are slim, you'll soon forget my story. I would have too. Before that night, I never worried. Didn't know the first thing about meds, the brain, or drugs. Never stressed. I was living a charmed life and got lucky at each turn. Everything worked. That was my world for 42 unforgettable years. But for the next one to a million maybe, my tail gives pause before plugging in chemicals with the power to reshape a mind.

We each make our own choices, but from where I now stand in its abyss, the mind is too fragile to toy with. It's our universe, so it feels permanent, like the sun because it surrounds us. But we don't understand this universe, let alone what can throw off its axis and rotation for good, I learned too late.

I wish I never had this story to tell. It's a, what if real, I've replayed so much that the film is burned. Nobody said it was easy, but nobody said it would be this hard. Oh, take me back to the start. I can't change the past, but my story can change someone else's future. Did the system fail me? No. No, in that the pill put the writing on the wall.

That was my choice, and while it may soon be legal in a bunch of countries, Mexico is not one. Ironically, the same morning, January 12th, Mexican authorities seized on arrival a CBD lip bomb for my toiletry bag, received on my birthday three days before, bought over-the-counter in D.C., so there's no consensus on what's safe. No, in that I was treated by countless compassionate doctors who did the best they could. Too many to name. Most importantly, no. in that no neurobiologist on earth understands the human brain. Brain science is at best presumption. So how can any doctor be faulted for not finding my silver bullet?

Did the system fail? Yes. Believe it or not, the pill was first synthesized by Merck Pharmaceuticals, owner of the same patented drugs I'd later take to fight its damage. There's a saying, you break it, you buy it. Yes, in that the very mental, prescribed to given me life-preserving sleep gave me life-destroying depression. Yes, in that nurses at a high-end facility loaned me a 14-foot cable, knowing I was approaching

the breaking point from no sleep. Had that arrived in my bags, it would have been confiscated. My doctor there getting fired three days later is a smoking gun. Yes, in that I turned myself into an ER in self-induced anoxia, only to be assigned a room beside an unlock six-story stairwell, when an entire trap-proof floor existed for patients experiencing delirium. My story's worth telling it for no other reason than the question that intersects here across medicine, policy, pharma, drugs, health, and brain science. But none of these questions matter to me now. I wasn't thinking about any of them as I sat on the log rolling back the reel of time. I was remembering the people and places I love. The story's told.

Now, how to move on. As a kid, my older brother was the daredevil between us. He led me down our steep driveway on a Powell Peralta skateboard. We got marooned on a jungle island in the Arabian Sea, and he showed me how to shoot BB guns and bottled rockets, climbed 20-story cranes, and draft down San Francisco hills at high speed on a road bike. He taught me how to shotgun beer, how to chop drugs, and using rolled bills from summer lifeguarding blow,

booger sugar. How did I survive so many wild nights unscathed but not his 50th? He's done a thousand times the drugs. Why me? We still haven't spoken, but I forgave him. It's not his fault. Even Desfetsky couldn't imagine what lay ahead. I was always loyal to my company and the people I share with. They've also been loyal for so long, flying the plane waiting to return and never given up hope. The last thing left to face is my heart. I've been drawn to water and rocks forever. Some of my earliest memories are collecting pebbles on the beach and moving stones in a creek near my house. Today, the two places I love most on earth, my cottage and the site of my future home, are both wrapped in rock walls and rippling waves. I learned

this world from a hermit. Growing up, I spent summers at a neighborhood swim and tennis club set on woods beside the Potomac River. Each day, I'd see a reclusive man with long gray hair enter the neighborhood forest, stark naked, and walk a path only he knew to be tucked away cove. For as long as anyone could remember, he'd been building a half-mile-long dam out of stones by hand in the rapids that across decades, single-handedly redirected the course of one of America's most famed waterways. To this day, his handiwork is visible on Google Earth, just west of the American Legion Bridge. Legend had it that that crazy old Ned was stuck in his infinite loop from a bad drug trip that broke him,

like PBS's strange case of the frozen addicts. Looking back, Ned's appearance in the haze of my childhood now seems almost a biblical omen. This Sisyphus, cursed by a pill to push rocks against the current forever. A Haley's comment sent to me as a warning from the stars, but I never saw the sign. And now the stars, even Carl's Vagon, have gone out.

There's no place left to hide from my heart in the ensuing darkness. Coming up on the anniversary of the first night that started all the sleeplessness ones to follow. I keep thinking back to this time last year, healthy and strong, chemical free, soundly sober, my world in motion, a new moon rising. Cris-cossing, shimmering sea waves, embarking on what I thought was becoming like a lightning strike. The brightest chapter of my life. I'd always heard From the brightest day comes the darkest night

Now I know One tiny pill I barely remember taking Broke my night's world head and heart In that order This December Each carol echoes a bittersweet

Memento to the final weeks of shining eyes one year ago Before my story began I miss those Advent nights Like you can't imagine Last year's nocturns where the shooting stars of a light-filled universe, set ablaze, then vanquished.

I'll never get those starbursts back. My heartlight, the shining eyes, or why they slipped away. Here's hoping ECT erases all the memories. Like eternal sunshine of this ballast mind. Maybe in Montauk. Until then, red wine and sleeping pills help me get back. Maybe I will see you in the next life.

On December 15th, 2024, with my brain unchanged from the state it was left in by my fall six months before, with my mind's eye gone and my world blurry from deviated eyes and a broken mind and heart, with each passing increasingly dragged down by the weight of the January 12th anniversary fast approaching that would mark the start of a second year in the rest of my life in hell. remembering the health and happiness I still had the year before, a relentless sorrow kept pulling me down. Like Sebastian's gray horse sinking into the swamp of sadness in the never-ending story, eventually all of me disappeared into the quickstand.

I played what I thought would be my last notes at the piano, walked out of the house and sat on a fallen tree in the adjacent woods, trying to accept what was to come. I begged whatever power had. had cursed me to let the ones I was leaving behind find peace again someday. Then I swallowed four grams of some substance two times the fatal dose, washing it down with wine. Either miraculously or like a demonic possession, before blacking out, I unconsciously

stumbled home through the forest, completely blind from the chemicals, lunging into trees and walls I couldn't see in walking into windows. I ended up curled in a ball on a bathroom floor, which is where I was found and intubated, pumped full of biocarbonyates in charcoal to try to save my blood and heart as I slipped into a coma. Three days later, I woke in the ICU with a giant tube down my throat.

I spent Christmas in that hospital and eventually managed to make it through the first anniversary of the night that launched this story. But it hasn't got it, gotten any easier, only harder. Because the consciousness that returned since my OD is partial. My mind is slower. My vision blurrier. My heart. More gone. If there is a lesson in my tale, it's that when you think it can't get worse, it can because it happened three times. There is no end to my never-ending story, only ongoing despair. I was one.

Once a well-tuned car cared for maintained, navigating the twists and turns of life's road. Today I'm a head-on car crash passed by others on the highway. Pinned, paralyzed. Trapped in wreckage, I can't escape. Despite all I've done to try to. If there isn't out, other than what my burnt-out heart tells me is the only way I can't see it. I can't see anything.

It's all black in here. clutching the wheel of an engine that hasn't worked in 13 months, hoping against hope that if I keep pricing the pedal, someday the motor will catch in my life will turn back on. And I'm back after like five minutes of sitting in silence. I was truly moved and I don't know, like what word even sums up, like the feelings that just radiate from that story and that gave me. That truly was the most emotional story I've ever read.

I have read thousands, hundreds, if not thousands of posts on Reddit and stories and just my own personal reading and watching a movie. I've never seen a or read something that was that emotionally impacting to me. That story of having. it all. I mean, they outlined how they had it all. They had the money. They had the houses. They had the family. They had the love. They lost it all due to one freak accident of taking a pill. And I just don't know what else to say. I mean, this was truly one of the most insane stories I've ever read. And I'm sorry for just yapping, but I mean, I truly just need to speak to even begin to

process the story. Because, you know, with the story most of the time, it ends with a, with a light at the end of the tunnel. And in this video, I will mention there is light at the, like most of the time, I've always mentioned, like, oh, don't worry, keep going. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. But for the O.P here, like, they literally don't have a light at the end of the tunnel because their brain is messed up to a point where.

it can't get better. And that is just so disheartening to me because I would like to think of myself as like a forever optimist, like the O.P. said. But to know it won't ever get better is horrifying. It truly is horrifying. This is a long story.

I mean, this story was like 40 minutes long, but like this could be like a movie almost. I mean, I don't know what else I say, but this truly was the most moving and insane and emotional story I've ever read in my life. And it all stemmed from one pill. And a lot of people in the comments, you know, commend the O.P. And I have to as well. The writing was impeccable. The O.P is an extremely talented writer, obviously.

I mean, just with how, like, the comparison, I mean, like, think back to, like, the store or like the example of the op when they were a kid and saw the one guy that kept building the the rock bridge in the river because of a drug-induced kind of psychosis almost like that truly is like a biblical comparison I mean like this was just such an insane story like from the start to the end like I just don't even know how like how to this will stick with me for like honestly probably the rest of my life this story even though it's some random person some random person on the internet who's sharing this story i i just was so moved and i felt like i knew the op by the end of it almost i'm sure of you a lot of you listening right now

are tired of listening to me talk but i mean i'm sure you feel a similar way this truly was just a very moving story and i was honestly just emotional by the end of it because i don't even know what to say. But that was an insane story and confession. And I just really hope the O.P. is doing better now. The O.P. has continued posting up until three months ago. So luckily, the O.P. Is at least still around up until three months ago. I don't know what else to say in recent times, but, you know, if somehow the OPE sees this, email me, reach out. I mean, I know you've talked to a ton of people, but I'm here to talk if you need it. But, and so, and so, you know, and so, you know, Same with anyone else who's going through something.

I mean, if you're going through anything similar, reach out. I mean, even if it can't get better, like talking to someone always helps. But, yeah, insane story. On to the next one. I was attracted to young people for a number of years and it ruined my life.

And I'm sorry I have to use that substitute in here, but YouTube doesn't like me saying attraction with child. This is one of those stories. Yeah. So I will be using substitutes when necessary. sorry, but you get the gist. I'm trying to be as respectful as possible, but yeah, I just have to. Anyways, on to the post. I wanted to say from the beginning that I have never touched or hurt a young person and never will. Obvious throwaway for obvious reasons. How it all began was when I was

around 15 or so. I started to become attracted to girls around me. I went into puberty very late. As I grew older, instead of my attractions growing in accordance with my age, they never moved, which led me to continually be attracted to girls of that age. When I was a minor, it wasn't such a big issue, but when I became an adult, it was. When I turned 19, I made the decision to essentially become a recluse. I did not want to hurt anyone, but there were so many emotions fighting inside of me. I had urges that I had little control of, and it was a mission every day to avoid following through on them.

It came to a head one day when I was speaking to the daughter of a friend in the urges almost overwhelmed me. I almost broke. This was the point when I shut myself away. I would only go out when I knew that young people were at school or wouldn't be on the street after dark. I avoided media involving young people. I avoided books involving young people. Most days I wouldn't go out at all, only going out after dark, if at all. I took jobs where I could work the night shifts.

so that I didn't have to have any contact with young people. This made my life absolute hell. I became a nervous wreck. I would get anxiety if anyone came to the door in case it was a young person. I still worked, but my performance was poor. This often led to me being fired or disciplined. No one else knew what I was going through.

By necessity, it was something I had to endure alone. Around seven years ago, I found a psychologist, It had gotten to be too much and I had to speak with someone about it. Over the course of the next six months, we discovered that my feelings were brought about by me being essayed very young. When it was happening, it was frequent and often violent. As it turns out, I had repressed most of it. I didn't know how bad it actually was. However, discovering this led to that revelation.

Over the course of three years of twice weekly treatments, my feelings towards young people began to fade. slowly but surely I started to get better. I owe my psychologist my life, literally. I was at the point of S word before I started seeing him. Now, seven years later, I have no attraction towards young people. I have a much more normal life. I can actually go out during the day without being anxious. I can talk to young people with no urges.

I am mostly normal. I'm still dealing with the repercussions of my dark times, but the dark times themselves are over. I'm married and I have a baby boy on the way. The process of getting treatment is so freeing. I can't even describe it now. My psychologist is the one who suggested writing this out. He thinks it will help with my healing process.

I hope it will. Thanks for listening. And wow, that was a hell of a confession. But, I mean, props to this guy for getting help and, you know, not give it into the urges because God knows so many people do. with how many predator catching videos there is. I mean, there's a limitless amount of people like this out there that do act upon their urges. So major props to this guy for not giving into it and, you know, fixing himself because I think a lot of people kind of hide these urges and then they don't really do anything about it until something horrible happens. And yeah, most of the time, a lot of these people feeling this way or attraction towards young people were, you know, subjected to abuse.

when they were younger. And so I think it is important to get help if you did experience something like that. So none of these urges come out in unhealthy ways, if that makes sense. But, you know, props to this guy for getting help. I'm glad he has a wife now. I'm glad he has a family. Hopefully he has a great job. But that could have ended really badly.

But I'm super glad this guy fought the demons, literally, and got better. Major props to that guy. And I hope he continues to get better. And hopefully, I mean, If anyone's watching out there and you have some sort of attraction towards whatever, then there is help out there. And yeah, very interesting confession. On to the next one. I almost strangled my mother to death when I was 15.

Reposing this here instead of an R slash off my chest because this sub seems a little bit more fitting. I've been browsing off my chest in this sub right for a few hours now since I couldn't sleep. Figured I might as well chip in with my story. since I don't often talk about this in real life for obvious reasons. Please mind that English is not my native language. As you can guess from the title, it's not a very happy story. Buckle up, this will be a long ride. My parents broke up very early.

I grew up with my mom. My dad wasn't really present throughout my childhood. My mother has had a drinking problem for as long as I can remember. She had a rough upbringing and could only vent her frustration when she was drunk. The way things went down was always the same. Around once a month, she comes home late, waking me in the middle of the night, and from then on, it's a shit show. She starts yelling, spitting at me, beating me, smears her snot in my face, or on my bed sheets, and makes me sleep in there. One second, she yells at my face that she hates me, that my father and grandma

hate me, that it's all my fault, and in the next second she starts crying and says that she loves me, an emotional roller coaster. This always goes on for the whole night. I don't remember too much, but ironically, the most prominent memories are the ones from when I was very young. Maybe around five or something. One night, I had to stand facing the wall the whole night while she screamed at me. I was so tired since I was just a little kid, but every time I tried to sit down, she would hit me. Sometimes I had to do squats while pulling out my ears, making me look really stupid. Apart from the fact that, it was humiliating, she made me do them until I collapsed from the pain. Then she shouted at me to continue. A weird thing she did was she frequently pretended to choke to death in the middle of a rant.

And then she'd lay there motionless for 10 minutes straight. As a five-year-old, I was completely in panic and had no idea what to do. I tried to wake her up, but she didn't respond at all until she suddenly jerked up and resumed shouting at me and hitting me for not helping her. Luckily, she stopped pulling that one once she saw that I got too used to it. As I got older, she got more and more violent. But the only times I was really scared for my life was when she got the kitchen knife while fighting with her now ex-fiancee. Luckily, no one was stabbed. I could go on and on, but you get the idea.

I never got any help because I was so used to all this stuff. And of course, my mother told me to never tell anyone. Whenever I brought her behavior up in the next morning, she claimed that she couldn't remember, said that I'm over-exaggerating things, or outright claimed I was making stuff up. Sometimes she apologized. I will never do it again, honey. I stopped listening after a while. School was pretty shit as well. I had no social skills because I preferred to play video games all day.

I was a weird and misbehaving kid, so I was bullied a lot. Also, I was too afraid to stand up for myself because I only knew punishment. The fact that we often moved didn't help much. All in all, I went to 10 different elementary schools across four different countries. Poland was especially shit. Not the country, you Polish folk are nice people, but living with this rich alcoholic dude whom my mother constantly fought with. Thank God that episode only lasted a few months.

Anyway, I digress. unsurprisingly, I became depressed at some point and have been ever since. Don't know when exactly. I think it was somewhere around 10 years old. This torture went on for many years. Then it happened. She came home drunk one morning while I was getting ready for school. She didn't get much of a reaction out of me these days and didn't seem to like it.

As mentioned in the title, I was 15 years old at the time and getting physically stronger than her and I was used to the shouting. Also, I was basically dead inside. I was completely nonchalant when she started her rant. Then she said something about my ex-girlfriend. It wasn't really all that bad, but it was a weak spot for me since she recently broke up with me. It was my first relationship, and I was the one who fucked it up. It was the last straw. All these fucking years of constant abuse and neglect unloaded themselves in one moment.

Humans can be animals. It was like watching a movie from a third. third person perspective. I had no control whatsoever. I screamed while grabbing her throat and squeezing with all I had. I somehow strangled her across my room onto the bed. My big and scary mother whom I was always afraid of wasn't able to fight back against my rage. Not one bit. Now thinking back she even looked kind of scared. So she was on her back of my bed and I was standing above her squeezing her throat. I have no idea how long that went on, maybe a few seconds, maybe half a minute. Everything felt so surreal. At some point, my brain kicks in. Do you really want to do that?

I got a hold of myself and I lick over. Fucking mistake. She instantly grabs a chair and starts swinging at me full force. I mean, yeah, I technically tried to kill her, but now I just want to get out of this alive. I block it and fucks up my arm. Then she bites me in the, very same arm, Jesus Christ, that hurt. The bite later swole to the size of a ping pong ball. Anyway, I managed to get the hell out of the apartment, but now I run the risk of freezing to death since we had winter, and I'm wounded with nothing on me but my pajamas. I encounter a neighbor and ask him to call the cops. I tell them what happened, leaving out the strangling part, and after they see my wounds, they inform my mother that I'm being taken into care. My mom

makes a pathetic attempt of trying to put on an act, but snaps halfway through and bites an officer, gets wrestled down and arrested on the spot. It was honestly hilarious in hindsight. She played the victim and called me a traitor for calling the cops on her, but got out later on. She had to pay a huge fine, though, for attacking an officer. I moved out into government care. It was honestly cool. By the end of age 15, I had my own apartment for free rent, 400 euros per month to do with whatever the hell I want in social workers that were pretty decent people kudos to german CPS however shit caught up with me my depression worse and badly I started to drink a lot and later that year I tried to drown myself that was rock bottom for me I've had bad phases since then there were nights where I wanted to die

nights where I wanted to pay my mother a visit and get my revenge and nights where I didn't want anything at all. However, all, life's been gradually improving for me. Slowly but steadily. The older I got, the more self-aware I became about my behavior, so I stopped getting bullied. Also, I learned to stand up for myself. That was helpful. However, I still ended up quitting school at some point. I realized they can't force myself to do something I despise for even a second. I just stood up in the middle of the class and went, fuck it. After that, I tried a bunch of different jobs, but none of them worked for me. However, I found my true passion. I love making music and I'm currently putting all my energy into becoming a successful musician. I no longer care if I might fail. It's

really liberating. My relationship with my mother has been improving steadily as well. Boy, it was hard at first. And I made sure to let her know how much I hated her for what she did. But she finally truly admitted her mistakes and quit drinking. It was easier after that. I could start expressing and letting go of my hatred in a healthy way. She really made an effort to better herself. I also apologized for what I did that day and she forgave me. I wish I could tell you a happy ending to that part of the story, but sadly, my mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia two years ago.

The stress of coming to terms with that, she did, and the loneliness probably broke her. Sometimes I think about what I could have done differently. She knows that I still haven't forgiven her and I am still suffering every day because of what happened. But I can't change that. I told her it needs time. It's been only six years since the day the police took me.

She's back in her home country now with her family. They are taken care of her. Thank God for that. The last two years were a huge burden. At one point, she was so thin that you could see the shape of her skull, all while having that giddy, delusional smile on her face. Horrifying. Well, there it is.

The story of how I tried to kill my mother. I apologize for the swearing. I got a bit emotional while writing this. Granted, a lot of bad stuff happened in the past, but it made me the way I am today. And I'm glad for that. I learned many things that wouldn't trade that for the world. People become who they are based on circumstances, but it is always in our power to change our fate. Don't hate them, no matter what they did to you.

Cruel people are often hurting inside. instead encourage them to be the best they can be. Life's too short to be unhappy. Strive towards your goals and never settle for less. It could always be your last day on earth. You literally have nothing to lose. Life's definitely not fair. Cherish what you've been given and make the best of it.

S word will prevent you from ever becoming happy. However, I realize I'm still only 21 years old and have a lot to learn. I plan on doing so. I don't want to live a life full of hate. hatred and regret. I want to be able to love and trust somebody again. I want to get married, have at least three children, become a successful musician, travel the world, stuff like that. Just be happy. I know I'll get there. One day, out of time. I think the OP summed up that last part so well, saying life's too short to be unhappy and I have to completely agree with that. I'm glad

the OP is doing better now, it seems. And they did give an update in the comments. The OP gave an update in the comment saying that her mother is on medication now for her schizophrenia and doing much, much better, which is just a heartwarming story. But, you know, it was horrifying that the opi had to go through that during her childhood or during the childhood. And yeah, I mean, almost killed their mother. That's terrifying. That's horrifying. And it's so sad that the opi had to go through that for so many years. And I think this is just a great testament to everyone watching if you're going through something similar or you know just anything where you don't think there's a light at the end of the tunnel there always is and um i think this story in post is a great

testament to that there's always a light at the end of the tunnel things will always get better and um just try to look at everything with a positive lens over it because you know perception and the way you view things is everything so just try to make the most of every day because like the opes said as well you never know which day might be your last. And I hope you guys are doing well. I hope the O.P. is doing well. I hope the O.P.'s mother's doing well. It's been seven years since that post and not a lot of updates regarding that.

So I just have to wish the O.P. And their mother the best. On to the next one. I made a huge mistake with my son-in-law and can't say anything. This has been bothering me for a while, and I just need to say it, I think. I know this was very poor judgment and I felt completely awful since this happened. I am divorced from my husband of 36 years. Our divorce was finalized in November of 2018.

He immediately had a girlfriend about 15 years younger than me. After the divorce, I got very depressed and had zero self-confidence. I used it as motivation and got in shape. I lost 20 pounds and decided to get breast implants. I got them last June. After I got them, I basically hid from the world for about a month until I was confident enough to go out again and had recovered. My daughter and son-in-law have a pool in the backyard.

Since it was summer, I was at the pool with some of them and grandkids. In late July, my son-in-law made a comment about my boobs. I was totally mortified even though I knew it was obvious to them. I've been swimming with them for years. No real way to hide my boobs. Later that night, he sent me a text apologizing for saying anything and said he was happy for me. I texted back and eventually sent him a selfie topless. He was very supportive and told me I looked amazing, etc.

I was at a very low place and had been drinking. I asked him if he wanted to come over, and he did. We ended up having sex. I had not had sex in about three years, and I think just the attention and being told I'm beautiful may we do it. I've sent him pictures a couple times since when he's asked, but have not done anything since. We've talked about it since and both agree it was a bad idea.

We both swore we won't ever tell my daughter I have not told anyone about this I feel so guilty and can't stand I'm hiding something this big for my daughter but I can't bring myself to tell her thanks for listening And all right You came to this video for some insane Reddit confessions

And we're starting off with an insane Reda confession And damn that was a confession That's kind of crazy Her poor daughter got kind of cheated on or yeah she did get cheated on his her husband cheated on him with her mom wow that's crazy this was one of the most insane red of confessions i've read and i swear to god i did not just mean to say the title of the video but that was an insane red of confession this is just kind of

a crazy post um i think she should feel awful about it it just it's not okay to cheat on somebody or let someone cheat on them. I'm kind of all over the place right now, but I don't think it's okay for people to cheat. And she made her daughter's husband cheat on her. All this son-in-law, daughter-in-law's stuff is confusing. And I think you're following, hopefully. Just let me know in the comments if I'm making any sense right now.

But that's an insane red of confession. And I know that was a pretty lackluster response or reaction to it. But I'm going to be pretty rusty in the beginning or pretty bad. So just trust me, let me know down the comments. Do you like my personality in this or not? Just let me down to the comments below. And I will adjust for the future. Thank you.

On to the next one. My boyfriend left me two days ago. I am now the happiest I've been in two years. I'm overjoyed. I can't even describe it. Friday felt like the worst day ever. But you know what? I didn't even realize how fucking miserable I was with him

until he dumped me. Dad came over and talked to me for hours on Saturday. Flaws I didn't even realize drove me mad, showed up suddenly. Dad reassuring me that he always hated him and always wanted someone better for me, made things easier as well. I'm free in all of my decisions. I can pursue the job I wanted in a city of my choosing without having to look after what and where he wants to go. No more unnecessary fights, a feeling of new self-worth after being constantly talked over slash not being properly respected for two years. I can eat what I want, where and when I want without snarky comments. I can do yoga for hours without being ridiculed for it because it's not real activity. Want to see my parents over the weekend? No one to stop me. Want to get drunk with my friends?

No one giving me jealous comments. Having to hang out with people I don't like, no more. Endless talk of your stupid little schemes to improve the world without you even being able to get out of your fucking bed before 11 a.m. No thank you. Uncertain future because someone always refuses to plan even a month ahead. Gone. This is by far the easiest breakup I ever had, so thanks for dumping me and giving myself respect back. I can't believe I let myself be controlled for that long. Never again.

Goodbye, energy sucker. You better save up all those tears. The sun is shining outside. I'm going for a walk and I'm filled by a wave of happiness I haven't felt in forever. Life is good again. Edit, holy shit, this is my first award. Thank you to everyone and all the positivity you've shared. Second edit.

Guys, I am amazed at how much all of this has blown up. Thanks for all of your kindness and positivity. However, due to the big amount of comments still flying in and a lot of questions being re-asked, I won't have time to go through and answer all of them anymore with work and everything. If you are one of the people that have reached out to me, don't hesitate to PM me.

I'll likely won't find you in the comment section again. I will try to get back to you as soon as I can. Yesterday was my day off, so I can't be on my phone this much today, but if you really do need my help, I'm going to answer you as soon as I can. As for the rising number of troll slash in-sell comments, if I do notice you're being one of those that don't expect a response from me again, all the questions have been answered in the comments. So if you're still curious whether or not I'm actually miserable, crying myself asleep,

or you simply cannot believe that I'm genuinely happy because I must seek attention as a female it does, please do us all a favor and just look up all the other unhappy people who thought they needed to vent about their negativity on here. If you came here solely because you wanted to know why I was dumped or why I didn't dumb him first, it's in the comments, but I'm going to post it here as well so people will stop asking me about it. In the end, our plans for the future didn't match. I wanted to move back to my hometown. He wanted to either migrate or live in a big city. None of us wanted to give in. I wanted to start a family sometime in the next few years. He panicked because he realized that we're in fact,

getting serious beyond the point of a college romance. I think you get the picture. I did think about dumping him for some time, but since we had ups and downs and it was in fact a loving relationship at first, I kept holding on in hopes of many things I didn't realize were too broken. If you did have a really good relationship in the beginning, it's hard to keep yourself from fighting for it and making a mistake by calling things off too soon. I did, however, emotionally distance myself from him for at least some time without actually realizing it until right before he did us both a favor and ended things. This is also why I believe I'm not a miserable wreck like so many people want me to be.

My dad helped me to realize a lot of these things. He really set my head right about it and helped me tremendously. What will I do once the regret kicks in? I don't know, probably. Nothing. I'm moving on to a really good job that I fought hard for in March, which has me also moving about 200 miles next week. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

We'll see about that. Thanks again, everyone, and cheers. keep the positivity up. And I don't think this one is that much of an insane red of confession. I think this is just kind of a nice, kind of more cheery confession. It's not really a confession even. I don't even know why this was really on the confession board, but I just wanted to throw in kind of a gooder vibes of them.

And also just kind of tell you that you can always get better or being in a better situation. And I know this one is just kind of talking about her being in a relationship. And I think a lot of people need to hear that, that maybe being in a relationship really is kind of bringing down your life. But I think that can equate to a lot of different things, such as school, job, or something along those lines that's really holding you back from your full happiness. And I know this one wasn't sad, but I think it's just kind of a good vibes one that was necessary. I got a paternity test on my son behind my wife's back.

I got a paternity test on my son behind my wife's back. Two years ago, we had a baby boy. And from the moment he was born, I felt like something was off. And it was obvious. Our child didn't look like us. Now, I get that children don't look like parents often. And you have to wait to see how they look. But this was different.

My son was blonde, blue eyes, and with a very fair skin complexion. I am Mexican. My wife is Colombian. We both have a slightly darker skin tone. Think Selma Hayek's complexion. We both have dark brown eyes, black hair. and dark brown hair. Not only that, both of our parents have dark hair and brown eyes, with the exception of my mother who has hazel eyes. All of our grandparents have dark hair, brown skin, and dark eyes.

How was my child blonde, blue eyes, and fair? I had people tell me that lots of babies are born with blue-slash-gray eyes and darken up, and their skin and hair changed fastly as well. So I waited it out and assumed the child was mine. But here we are, after two years and if anything, his eyes are more blue, more blonde, and even lighter skin. He does not look like us. I started getting comments on how he must be the mailman's son or weird looks or jokes. I was once questioned at a park if the child I was playing with was my son. My wife is always being asked if she is his nanny, and it made me feel so angry. My wife never thought it was a big deal and would say people are just playing around, but I know some people think I'm raising

in another man's child. It started to wear on me. I had no reason to think my wife cheated on me other than his looks. It was eating me inside and I took my son to get a paternity test without telling my wife. Well, it turns out he is 100% mine. I was so relieved. I wanted to show this to anyone who made comments or joked about my son not being mined. That night, casually asked my wife if she would have been mad if I got a paternity test when our son was born and she reacted very offended that I would even consider that she cheated on me. She said if it would have affected a relationship negatively knowing I couldn't trust her. I played it off that I was joking, but now because of the paternity test, she was correct and I had no reason other than the way he looked.

Now I have replaced the feeling of doubt on my child with guilt. Now I feel like an insecure asshole. I don't know if I should tell her or keep this locked away forever. All right, I think he hit the nail on the head with the last two things he said. I think he should keep it locked away forever, or also it probably will ruin his marriage, and I think he's kind of an insecure asshole. I'm not calling him an asshole. I think he is just kind of insecure because, you know, a marriage or relationship is really built on trust, and he had zero trust in her. He didn't even have trusted teller he was getting a paternity test, let alone trust her that that was his child or their child. And I really think this is something he needs to take with him and keep it with him until the grave.

Don't tell her ever because it will really, I think, create a dent in the relationship that might not really ever heal because she'll always know that he doesn't trust her fully. And yeah, good thing it was actually his child. That's great she didn't cheat. But I think it's kind of crazy that he didn't really talk to her seriously about it before where he went and got a paternity test behind her back. And like I said, kind of earlier, I think it's kind of crazy. He did it completely behind her back because I think he should have brought it up before.

I'm seriously considering getting a paternity test. And if she reacted that way again, I think it kind of would have furthered his insecurity. So maybe this was inevitable in this situation. But I think with the results and how it actually went, I think he should take this to the grave. I got into my car and almost drove away while my kids slept. Two years ago, my ex-wife, Malani, 37 female, and I 36 male separated. The divorce was a mutual decision made by the fact that she was cheating on me with a coworker and wanted to be with him.

We have five kids together, age 13, 12, 10, 8, and 6, and a cat. Based on several factors, she has weekly visitation and I have full custody of them. but doesn't ever show up for the visitation and seems to have given up on the children. I work as a teacher, an already exhausting job as it is, and I spend every minute of my day either with my kids or kids that aren't mine. Cooking and cleaning and breaking up fights and grading papers, and then by the time the kids are asleep,

the fucking still love them though. Cat wants attention and I want to scream from the top of my lungs. I'm tired. I'm fucking exhausted. I can't do this. I'm working and taking care of six, living, breathing beings, and I feel betrayed, and I'm so, so tired. Last night I stood up and walked out of the house, got in the car, and started it. The kids were asleep and I sat there, in the car, five seconds away from driving away.

I wanted to drive away. I wanted to drive until I ran out of gas. And then I thought about my kids waking up and not having anybody around and I walked back inside. but I still want to run away. This morning I wanted to run away. I had to restrain myself from driving away while driving to work. I hate myself from being so quick to want to drive away from my kids. My kids who I loved more than anything in the world were so quick to not have a father.

This morning, while I was driving to work, I made peace that I wasn't going to drive away. I wanted to veer off the road and into a ditch and die. I feel awful for this. I want to scream it from the rooftops. I feel awful and yet I will know that I will fight the urges again in a few minutes when school lets out. And Jesus, man, that is insane post. I can only, I can feel the O.P.'s sadness and everything just from the post. But God, that is just such a heartbreaking, such a heartbreaking post.

And, I mean, the O.P.'s name is throw away, stressed die. which is unfortunate to hear. And the account has been banned, so we haven't been able to see if the O's piece made any other posts or anything. And, wow, that is truly so sad. Let's get into some of the top comments and see people's thoughts. Someone says, she cheats and leaves the kids. I cannot help but feel infuriated.

I forgot what I wanted to even tell you, sigh. You were one fucking amazing person, and I hope that life pays you back for your awesome good deeds. Stay strong, buddy. Someone else says, replying to that, saying, not just that, shouldn't O.P. take lots of child support and alimony from the ex?

Like she cheated and left the kids, O.P. should sue the ex with the most expensive, fucking divorce, make her pay for the rest of her life. And then, uh, that's a good point. I don't really know the ins and outs of child support and stuff like that,

but I mean, yeah, this guy was left all on his own with five, kids. God, I can't imagine. And I mean, all respect to teachers, but they don't have the best salary in the world. And to take care of himself and five kids, I can only begin to, I can't even begin to feel what the OP feels, the stress and the, and the hopelessness. It's just a sad, sad situation in post. Someone else says, what a great confession. And I mean about the depth, truth and quality, not about the content. The content is heartbreaking. I'm doubtful I have much useful to say, but it sounds like you're doing right at the end of your tether. If these types of thoughts are

starting to sneak in, then you might be reaching the limits of your emotional capacity to deal with the stress and hurt. These situations can lead to full breakdowns unless they're addressed. I don't know what support you do slash don't have, but if there's anyone in real life, you can lean on emotionally, then now is the time to do it. If you're worried, work, church, or other local slash public slash affordable services offer counseling, then do it first chance you can. Even just one session to get going. Touch base and maybe vent or cry. You've got to take care of yourself a bit. You're valuable and crucial in your own right. Even besides that, if you fall apart entirely and your better judgment doesn't kick in next time,

the consequences could make things so much worse. Time to cash in those credits. You need help now. please find some if it is possible at all you have my prayers and um sadly the opi did not respond to any of these comments and so what i'm guessing has happened the opi was you know feeling emotional stress and just made this post to kind of cry out into the reddit void or the internet void like a lot of people do and just never kind of came back but um like i said that the account was banned, so there's no other post from the OP, there's no comments from the OP, at least that we can see. But I just hope the OP's still around and doing well, and I hope his family recovered. And yeah, just such a depressing post and such a, you know, like the person said,

such a deep confession and kind of like a good confession. But I really hope the O.P. pulled through, stayed strong, stayed a good father for his kids, a good teacher for his kids that he teaches. And wow, that was intense. On to the next one. My parents and I caused her death. I hate them and myself for it. I honestly don't know. But I feel like I want to share this today.

I've been staring at a bottle of cheap whiskey for far too long now. Anyway, this all happened almost six years ago. and obviously the account is a throwaway. I use Reddit normally and I love browsing this sub, so I'm confident there can be some understanding here, or so I hope. So let's rewind the clock back six years to a time when my sister and I were 16. Which I could, huh?

Anyway, my sister Jane was the sweetest person I've ever met. Well, I didn't think that highly of her at the time. Besides being sweet and nice to almost everyone, she was a perfect tomboy, you know, short hair, boy clothes, interested more in cars and dolls, if you get my gist. This has all happened over a longer period of time. She started with the more boyish look when she was 13. My parents thought it as a phase and told her to dress normally. After many, many fights they gave up and allowed her to dress that

way. Those were some terrible few weeks. Many slaps, beatings, and a lot of yellings from my dad and constant crying for my mom. Now I know the reason was they didn't want their daughter to be seen as one of those freaks. My parents are not religious, at least not more than your average family. They never forced their beliefs onto us. I got into the atheism craze when I was in my early teens and they didn't care for it. Just told me not to tell people around a lot of her family as a religious. My dad was a police officer, pretty high-ranking as well.

He loved his job and was quite liberal in my opinions, extremely inclusive of other races and whatnot. He was also really lax with the rules. rules. He often showed us his gun and all my granddad's estate slash farm. He told us to shoot with a similar gun while making sure we understand proper gun handling, care for the weapon, how to reload, not to put a finger on the trigger, and to never ever aim at someone. The issues of gay and trans people came up very rarely, but I remember someone on TV speaking about it. Or maybe it was a movie. I can't recall. But both of my parents were disgusted just by the thought. This was when I was 11 or 12. I asked about it, like the curious little shit I was, and my parents explained

to both myself and my sister about what a gay is and a transgender person is, and so on. The outright said that those people are sick and should be in a hospital. Same like child lovers. We already had that talk about not going to people's cars, etc. Or murderers. My sister didn't really react, but I did jump on that. With my friends who made these dumb stories. and included a lot of gay and trans characters getting killed or being locked somewhere in a prison. My parents praised me for being creative after hearing a pretty damn long story for a 12-year-old. Anyway, a year later, my sister started with the tomboy stuff, and I didn't think much of it, but fast forward two years.

We're both newly 15, and it clicks in my brain. Why my parents were so opposite to it and what my sister really was. She was transgender. I felt mad at myself for even thinking my own sister. could be something so vile. I asked her several times, and every single time she told me to screw off or just refuted it. A few months passed, and our relationship turned sour. We barely talked.

I couldn't look at her, and whenever I started talking, Jane would make every effort to leave the room as soon as possible. Then came a night. I was staying up late playing World of Warcraft after my friends logged off. I went to grab a drink from the kitchen. to go down the stairs, I always passed her room. I heard a sound. It was so strange, like a cry of a weird creature.

She did my pants, I opened the door. I saw her crying on the floor. The sound was her trying to be quiet. For that short moment, everything was gone. I ran to her asking what happened, helping her up, sitting her down on her bed and giving her a hug. It was the first time we shared that, after such a long time.

She told me the truth. She was afraid, hurt, and trans. I don't think I've ever been more conflicted than in that moment. I hated that she was trans. I hated all trans people for infecting her

with the virus with the illness. But she was my sister. Someone I shared so much who was there for me when I was crying. I couldn't let go, and so I just held her and stayed there through the night. None of her words reached me. She fell asleep that morning, and because it was Saturday, I put a blanket over her and let her sleep.

She slept until around 2 p.m. When my mom woke her up with a yell, she looked at me with red eyes, mouthing, thank you. I remember that clear's day. After lunch, I told her I want to talk and that we did. I suggested we tell our parents that she is trans and they can get treatment for her and she can be cured. That was the moment all began to go downhill. My mom overheard, are you trans?

She screamed and called for dad. Jane kept silence so they turned to me asking if she admitted to it. I nodded. My father beat her behind with a belt, leaving a few cuts. They kept screaming, Jane kept crying, and I just stood there. Our 16th birthday came. Over the few months, I did warm up to the trans people and read a lot online. Asked people and used a few forums and message boards to talk to trans people.

My parents didn't want to hear a word of it, though. Jane and I were both born on the 14th of February. Valentine twins. I liked the date for two reasons. It was like the whole world was celebrating my birthday. I got a cake and a ton of gifts, and just like every year I bought something small for Jane. This year I was conflicted, but I decided to buy one anyway. It was this adorable, huge teddy bear.

Not your standard Valentine's one, but a proper and expensive teddy. And just like every year, our parents had worked the day after. I couldn't stomach it and gave Jane the gift on the 14th as I planned. Even my parents didn't celebrate her birthday. Just mine. I thought what a great idea is to give it to her on the 15th when parents aren't there. I felt really bad for her, and so I wrote a letter. Try my best that proper cursive.

It was a mumbling bees of how I still love her and parents don't understand I ended it with. I'm glad to have you as my brother. I remember writing those words, feeling kind of weird, but happy at the same time. After they left, I opened the door, but she or he wasn't there. I put down the bear and put the letter on his huge, fluffy head. I left the room and went to play World of Warcraft again, waiting for him to find it. I did hear the door to his room open and then close. I think it was almost an hour before a sound went through my headphones.

A sound so loud, my ears were ringing. It took me a couple of seconds to put one and one together to realize it was a gunshot. There was that thought of what happened. I don't want it to be true. I wanted to run, but at the same time, I wanted to avoid knowing but what if, so many fucking what-ifs. If I didn't play that fucking stupid game and just waited for her, God damn it. I opened the door, and he lied there, hugging that stupid teddy bear. That moment was the longest moment ever.

I fell down and just fell. I didn't even try to hold myself up. I ended up with a broken finger. After coming back to my senses, I called an ambulance. It was too late. It was my dad's gun. That's why he wasn't in his room. He was getting into his safe to get a hold of it.

After a few days, I found an envelope with my name on it. There was five 60-day cards for World of Warcraft for the best brother. A note right inside. It was his gift for me. It took my weeks to redeem them, but after I did, I made a character, named him a weird version of Jay as he went by to his friends, in our last name. I played him for a long time before quitting.

I wanted to commit Sward, to join her somewhere. Today, all those stupid hearts and celebrations are just a reminder of this. I'm sorry for rambling. I'm sorry for everything. And Jesus Christ, man. This was literally the most heavy post I've ever read in my life. Wow, that was just really, really. That was heavy.

I really don't have a lot to say. And at the end, the O.P. said, thank you all for your support and the gold and silver. You are all so sweet. Thank you. And then let's get into some comments. Someone says, this absolutely broke my heart. I'm so sorry for what you and your brother have gone through.

Someone else says, I clicked the back arrow after seeing how long this post was, but then felt like I needed to read it. Glad and sad that I did. My heart also breaks for you, O.P., but Jay didn't view you in the same light he viewed your parents. He loved you as much as you did right up until the end. I hope you find some peace in that. someone else says no you're not guilty you loved your brother you still love him don't hear yourself

don't think about what could have been if he didn't play that game i think you wouldn't have been able to stop your brother because he i think did it sneakily i am mad about your parents they should have been there for him but instead they stopped showing love to jay no you're not guilty and your brother knew you loved him You did not cause his death. And, yeah, that is just such a heavy, heavy confession. I wouldn't even call it a confession because, like the Comptor said, it's not his fault. It really isn't, but yeah, I really don't have much to say, but, you know, checking on your friends, checking on your family.

And there's always someone there for you, including myself. If you need anyone to reach out to, send an email to the email in the description. Yeah, I just want to make sure you guys knew that. No, you have the outlet because, yeah, if it just, there's a million options before that final and permanent option. Wow, this video got real, really quick. But, yeah, not to be too depressing, but yeah, that was a heavy post. yeah if anyone if any of you need help talk to a friend talk to someone else talk to family whatever but um anyways on to the next one objects in my house kept disappearing so i installed a camera i think i caught

someone in my house not sure if i'm using the right flare but anyways this is a throwaway i made to be safe recently i've been having a weird experience in my apartment random objects keep disappearing and then I find them behind the cupboard in my bedroom. For example, my anti-mosquito device went missing, and I had to buy a new one. The next day, I found it stuck behind the cupboard. Then my neck pillow that I always used when traveling disappeared. Again, I found it after a couple of days in the same place, though I still haven't managed to get it out because it's cramped in there. This hadn't been happening for about two weeks until abruptly stopped four days ago.

I decided to take action and install cameras in my living room and bedroom. Well, not really cameras, but specifically the Alfred app on an old iPhone I have. Basically, you install the camera on two phones, your main one and an old one, and set up one as the reviewer and the other one as a camera. I did this and while sleeping, I caught something that sent shivers down my spine. I was woken up by the sound of an object falling to the ground. like a really loud thud. I got up to investigate but found nothing.

After making a trip through the apartment, I went back to sleep. The next morning I entered the app to find that. It recorded three events in the living room, photos by motion activation, presumably around the time I was sleeping, and somewhere at 8 p.m. to, I was very tired, F-T-R, it was pretty dark in the room, so the low light was turned on. This and also this,

This is what I caught. And then he posts a picture of what he caught. And to be honest, I don't really see anything. I mean, it looks like flowers and a couch, unless I'm an idiot, which I kind of am. But I really don't see anything. This looks like a flower vase and then a couch and, you know, a wall in the background. And then a painting on the other wall. Then he says also and also this.

So let's take a picture or a look at the other picture. And in this one, I also don't see anything. So I wonder what he caught. So I guess he'll reveal it. Maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe you guys were saying, hey, look, it's right there. But anyways, it took me a while. But my theory is that the first one has something underneath the piano,

while the second one has this shadow on the bottom. I am beyond terrified now. And I literally just spent five minutes, like, staring at these photos. And I can't see what he's talking about. I don't see where the piano. is or something underneath the piano and I also don't see a shadow on the bottom like you guys might be screaming at your like screen right now being like how do you not see it but I don't see anything it looks like a obviously very creepy it's like very dark and green and night visiony but I don't really see anything to be honest let's keep reading so he continues to say there were no signs of breaking in the door was locked from the inside the only thing that was open was a window But it's pretty high from the ground, so it would be almost impossible for someone to climb. Told my dad to come stay with me tonight.

Can anyone share some thoughts as to what this might be? And then the OP gives us an update, saying update 1. Woke up an hour ago. Asked my dad to check the place again. Turns out, he already did, so a few hours before I woke up. I checked the camera footage, but didn't find anything. I even left a lamp on to have better lighting in the rooms, but nothing was caught. window was open intentionally because my dad set the painful rat traps in case someone did in fact enter my apartment through the window.

We'll keep this updated if anything interesting happens. And then he continues saying some additional info because I can't keep replying to all the comments. I don't have any pets. I don't take any pills at all. I don't sleepwalk. High CO levels could be a possibility, but I don't suffer from all of the symptoms. I don't get tired. What I wrote on my post was that I was tired that day because of my work,

plus my period, which is a literal pain, and I don't get headaches when I'm in the house. There aren't any wild animals around my house, just some birds. If it was a bag that got in, I would have noticed it immediately. Only the window was open, but it had the grid down, the one you installed to keep insects and bugs out, so even if a bat force its way inside my house, it would have to rip the grid off,

which isn't the case since it was untouched when I woke up. Again, sorry for the bad quality. This is just an amateur security camera app that I installed on an older phone because I didn't want to spend money immediately on actual cameras. I live in a relatively quiet place, just a small town. So criminality is low and I've never needed to use security cameras until now. Probably the most obvious one. This isn't fiction. Hopefully this solves any questions you might have.

Sorry for the formatting. I'm on mobile. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, I can't see absolutely anything from the pictures. Do you have the video footage? And all right, at least I'm not alone on this and I'm not the only one who can't say anything. But then the OPE replies to this saying, I should, but the events recorded only showed three pictures. The two above and another one that had something blocking the camera.

And then the OPE shares a third image, which I'm really not sure why he didn't include that in the main text. And it looks like in this picture, it's someone's. hand in front of the camera which is very creepy i mean to me it looks like someone's wrist coming from the right side and then a hand and four or five fingers very creepy but um yeah it's still just like doesn't look like anything that that's the most damning to me but before i didn't really see anything this looks like a hand to me and then um some people keep replying to this saying just so we know that we are seen two questions number one are these the whole pictures or are you cropping or editing them Number two, the piece you scribbled out in the picture is that the poster behind the couch?

I just asked so we know where the camera is looking and which way is up. And then the OPE replies saying, no, these aren't edited. I only crop the parts around the image. The icons in the app and the carrier on the top of the phone. Number two, the scribbling is on the poster above the couch. I just scribbled it because there's a name written on it. And all right, so that's pretty weird that there is a third image he wasn't sharing. and it looks kind of like a hand.

Could it be a bug? For sure. I mean, maybe it could be a bug flying in front of the camera, and it just looks weird. I mean, it looks more like a hand to me. But someone kind of gives a deep dive into all three of the photos. So let's get into that. Someone says, I rotated your images so they would be easier to understand.

Image one, image two, and image three. We've seen these all, but I'll put them on screen now. And I really don't think there's anything there in these images. Low light camera modes have lots of static and noise, because of the poor sensor data they're trying to use. Then combined with image compression, it will create blotches and lines where there is nothing. This static and camera noise can definitely lead to the motion sensor going off by itself.

Also, the dark spot in the bottom of Image 2 is the shadow of the couch. You can see that compared to Image 1. The lighting is different. Look at the shadow from the pillow. And then he says, edit 2, the camera movement theory is questionable. OP cropped each photo out of an app slightly differently to hide personal details in the phone interface, which may explain some shift between photos. Edit 3. To make sense of photo 3, I have overlaid it onto photo 1, where it seems to go,

and then he shares the overlay, which makes a lot of sense now. You can see the flower pot and where the hand sort of thing would be coming out above the couch. But again, I just, I'm not convinced that this is anything. And then he shares a second photo saying, and with half transparency to show how they align. And this just kind of shows how they aligned together. So the opi cropped it from the original one, and that's how it looks. And then edit four.

Just so we are all on the same page, I made a quick mockup of what people are talking about with the arms thing in Image 1. I think it's pretty obvious. It's not arms, but I wanted people to know what we were talking about. And then he shows an arms mockup. And to be honest, I just don't see that. You can see how he adds like a little head and then a hand. and someone's like kind of popping up their head and then they're kind of like laying down.

I really do think that's a reach. I really don't think that's anything. And then someone replies saying, the pictures make so much more sense rotated. I couldn't understand what I was looking at before. Someone else says, thank goodness for you rotating them. I had no idea what I was looking at.

But yeah, I see the creepy looking arms holding what looks like a head. But then after that, it's just blurry, bad quality. And someone moving the camera around, even if they were supposedly asleep. And then someone, asks a great question saying do you have a carbon monoxide detector and i see this in the comments

very often people say well why does that matter well if you have carbon monoxide leaking into your house it can make you hallucinate it can make you feel very tired it can just make you not like yourself not remember things and forever and watching if you don't have a carbon monoxide detector please get one because you can very easily die from a carbon monoxide leak and so a detector could literally save your life and it also can make you hallucinate and do other crazy stuff so that's why this question has validity and then the opi's response is rather concerning saying no but is there a chance there could be a high CO levels in my house how would they be related to this incident and then someone replies saying there is a famous incident from r slash legal advice where opi thought

their landlord was sneaking into the apartment and leaving creepy notes. It was elevated CO levels that caused OP to do it themselves and they had no memory of it. You should really look into this even if you do not think it's happening. High CO levels can literally kill you in your sleep. And then someone asked saying, what's up with the cupboard and how you can't get the neck pillow out? Could there be a critter living in the house and taking things through that cupboard? And then the OP says, I don't know. It's just that it's too far away and the space is too thin for me to get it out and then the OPE shows a picture. This is kind of the only reason I added this

because I think it's very interesting that that's where the neck pillow thing is. I mean, like, let's just say like the latter is true in saying there is somebody in the OPE's house. Why would they do that? Like, that just doesn't mix, like,

why would someone breaking into someone's house while they're there just hide stuff behind a cupboard? To me, it seems like possibly carbon monoxide poisoning and doing something completely out of your mind and doing something illogical and just bringing that to behind your cupboard? I don't know. It's just very, very weird.

And there's a ton of theories, but to me, the carbon monoxide theory does seem the most plausible. And then the last thing we ever hear from the OP is the OP replying to a comment saying, sure thing, I'll post an ordinary photo tomorrow because I'm working the night shift tonight. And that is the last we have ever heard from the OP.

And this was seven years ago. So I don't think we should expect an update anytime soon, but if the OPE is somehow watching this, please email me. I'd love to hear the resolution of this case. But to me, like I said, allegedly, the carbon monoxide seems the most plausible. The OPE doesn't have a carbon monoxide detector. It could be a small leak,

and the OPE is just hallucinating or doing something out of their mind at nighttime or sleepwalking or doing this or that or the other thing. But to me, it doesn't seem like someone would be in the house and then just hiding a airplane neck pillow behind a cupboard. And then also, I just don't know. It just doesn't seem plausible to me that some dude is in there doing that. But at the same time, I don't know, possibly, but then at the same time, the photos, the camera captured, don't show anything. And so to me, this is probably carbon monoxide, but what do you guys think? Do you guys agree with me? Or do you think

there's possibly some other theory I'm not considering? A disturbing series of events. To start off, a couple of months ago, my buddies and I got a house together in hopes of living together since we've known each other for years now. A few weeks into living at the house, one of the guys called us while we were at work one night to tell us there was a organ at our doorstep. We all thought he was just messing with us until he thought he thought. He was just messing with us until he facetimes us and there, on our doorstep, was some type of organ. We aren't doctors, but it looked like a liver or something. We were all a little freaked out and just assumed that some kids were trying to mess with us.

Ever since then, we hadn't had anything happen until last night. We were all home in the basement watching the Mike Tyson fight drinking a few beers when we decided to head outside to the backyard and start a fire, and we found another organ sitting on the floor outside the back door. It looked like it was just put there, but we didn't know for sure because we don't have any cameras or anything. We are literally four grown-ass guys, and we are kind of freaking out about these organs showing up at our house without anything telling us why or how, and I just want to know what to do. I have a picture of it, but I don't know how to post it because I'm new here, but if anyone can tell me how, I'll gladly. share it. And then there's a quick buzz in the comment section. Some people start theorizing

saying, well, maybe it's a cat that brought an organ onto your doorstep, or maybe it's a person, or maybe it's one of your roommates pranking you, but no one has a solid explanation. And sadly, the OP doesn't really respond to any of them, so we don't know. Also, people do recommend getting cameras so he can see whatever's dropping this on this doorstep. He doesn't have cameras, so he doesn't know. But then the OP gives us a concerning update. Update number one. And he says, so I finally found out how to post an image here. So here's a link to what we found. There weren't any traces of animals or bite marks on the thing.

And then the OP posts a link. And we can see very clearly a liver on his doorstep. And sadly, I have to severely blur this for YouTube's sake. But yeah, very disturbing. I mean, it's a very clear, clean liver. I mean, it doesn't look like it was chewed by an animal. Or, you know, it would have that look. It looks just eerily clean.

Like it was surgically removed. And there's no like drag marks. So it's not like an animal's dragging it. And there's this weird like white ooze underneath it. And I'm sorry I have to describe this so graphically. But I just want to give you guys a clear picture. And it's just right on its doorstep. I mean, it's, I can't imagine how scary that'd be to open my door and a organ is right there.

And then people start freaking out saying, well, maybe it's a human. Maybe it's an animal. Maybe it's this. that but no one really knows. Someone does say, if you think it is a human, call the cops. Even if you don't think it is a human, it might be worth calling the cops and having them take a look and getting their opinions. Outside of contacting law enforcement, I'd install cameras, talk to neighbors, and ensure my home is secure. Good luck and let us know if you solve the problem or anything new happens. And then the commenter also responds to the new picture the OP provided, saying,

now that I've seen the picture, it doesn't look like a pig liver to me, but what do I know? Measure the size of it and include that into the description. But it doesn't look like it's more than four inches large, based on shoe and leaf. Hopefully we can get a vet and surgeon in here to provide more clarity. And sadly, there was no vet or surgeon that came in and provided any clarity, so we don't know. And then a lot of people start theorizing that the roommates are playing a prank on the O.P. And very quickly, it seemed that the OP dismissed this, saying that they were all very surprised, and it doesn't seem like it was a prank because it keeps happening randomly, and they just don't know.

But then the OP gives us a second update. In this update, he says, So a lot of you guys are saying that I should talk to the neighbors. So I asked everyone on the street if they have ever had anything like this happen. All of them said they never had anything like this happened to them. I also called the original owners of the house to confirm. firm, they didn't have a cat. They only had dogs. With that being said, that it had happened once to them, but they had never had it happened twice. I also went ahead and filed a report

with the cops. They came over and looked around the house and swept the woods nearby, but ultimately said they couldn't find anything in that they suggest just getting cameras. We bought cameras and are waiting for them to come in. We really don't think an animal brought this lever to us. There are no marks, so it's getting creepy, thinking that someone is trying to fuck with us. The cameras are coming in and I'll keep everyone updated as much as I can on who is doing this or what we find. And then there's really no more comments of note after this update. So let's get into update number three. So earlier in the day, we tried to talk to the neighbors, but some were home, which was explained in the second update. I came home from work. My housemate let me know that

one of the neighbors that wasn't home earlier was home now. We decided to take a walk over just to get his input on the matter. And he said some stuff that intrigued us to say the least. He said he had something along the lines happened to him, that he had also found organs in his fenced off dog pen. It disturbed him at the time and was glad to find out he wasn't the only one. He said that he didn't install cameras at first because he thought it was a tasteless prank some kids tried to pull on him due to it being around Halloween, which is a major time of year to expect mischief from kids in my area. However, it happened one more time about three weeks ago. He had a ring doorbell, nothing captured, but installed cameras after and said nothing had happened since, but he's

been waiting to catch it. Also, he did contact police, which they told him the same thing they told us. I don't know how dead ass the claim is, but he seemed like he wasn't exaggerating. He was kind enough to send us a photo, which he took when he brought the dog out. It's hard to say, who is doing this or why it's happening, but we have our neighbor's number now, so we'll keep in touch on anything that happens between us. And then the OP shares the picture of what the neighbor sent to him, and this one's even scarier. I mean, it's literally two intact organs, which to me looks like a heart and a liver on the side of his house or side of his dog shit. I mean, like, holy shit. Like, this is terrifying. And I mean, they look intact, which is.

even scary so it's not like some animal ripped it out of another animal and brought it to the house like these look big i don't know if they're human i don't know if it's some other animal but like downright so so scary and i have no clue what it is and everyone in the comments is kind of at a loss as well they're all saying i don't know what it is and sadly we have never got another update from the op and this was five years ago so i doubt we will ever get another update, but God, that is so scary. I mean, I wonder if it is some sort of weird prankster. I did notice after going to the OP's profile that he did post an R slash a cult. So maybe the OP thinks it's a cult of some sort in his area. I don't know where he lives in the U.S.

I assume he's in the U.S., but the post in the R slash a cult was seeking some insight if this has any link to cults. Someone recommended I come ask if you guys would know anything along these lines. And then some people say, um, maybe, but not really. I mean, doubtful. But yeah, this is a very scary post to me. I thought it was just super, super disturbing because I mean, imagine like organs, just start showing up your house. What do you guys think? Do you think it's an animal? Do you think it's some sort of weird pranksters? I mean, that doesn't seem that likely to me. I mean, that's some pretty demented pranksters. Or do you think it's a serial killer leaving his trophies at someone else's house? I mean, who knows?

Very scary, and there's a lot of different avenues this could go down, but I'm kind of at a loss, so what do you guys think? I had an affair and killed my wife. Now I'm raising our toddler alone. My wife and I met when we were in our late teens. She had an extremely traumatic upbringing and severe alcohol abuse issues with occasional drug use. She would drink to blackout and was physically violent with me during these periods, and during binges would make occasional.

S-word attempts or threats and was physically violent with others. She would flirt with and hang out with other men while blackout drunk. On three occasions throughout our relationship, I saw her kissing other men while falling down drunk. She would constantly accuse me of cheating despite me being totally faithful. For those who will say she chose to drink and is responsible for her drunken actions, that is not how addiction works. What she did choose was to not seek help for her. herself and play an active role in her recovery. So ultimately, she is responsible. But her behavior while drunk doesn't hurt as bad because I know it was driven by illness. What did hurt was that she didn't address the causes of this and continued to minimize, deny, and dismiss the significance of

her past on her drinking and her drinking on our lives. This was a source of conflict, but ultimately I chose to support her journey, love her and support her as best as I could. And hope things improved over time and as we aged and mature together, she would one day be ready to face her past and address the root causes of her drinking. As we aged, the frequency decreased, but it was still really bad. She had awful social anxiety and we were not able to socialize with my friend group because the results would be awkward or embarrassing situations due to the excessive drinking. Bouts of S were threats or attempts decreased significantly, but binge drinking continued and

occasional violence still happened. I smoked a lot of weed, but was functional and successful in my career. I do not drink and was not physically abusive. I was emotionally abusive. For example, I would yell at her the day after she did something like, like run off into the night drunk and go into traffic, hit me or someone I love and so on. It's worth noting that I grew up with an alcoholic father, and then my mom was with a man for my high school years who was alcoholic and abusive,

and that my father eventually OD'd and died when I was a young adult. My wife and I moved about 2,500 miles across the country to my home city with the goal of me starting a business and us getting away from people and places that were very triggering for her. It went pretty well. She went back to work in her profession to help cover bills while I started my company.

Prior to having our child, she worked but did not drive. I would drive her to work, drive to meet her at lunch, drive to pick her up. I began earning so much money that we lost more by me driving her around than she would earn.

And as a couple, we were further ahead with her not working. She stopped working and said she drank because she was bored. If she was going to be home, she wanted to be a mom. She swore she would stop drinking to have a child, and she did. We got pregnant, and she stopped entirely. The pregnancy was awful.

The birth was complicated and mid-pandemic. We had no family support. I was busy with my company. She was overwhelmed being the 24-7 caregiver to a demanding infant-slash-toddler. We stopped having. having relations or intimacy times due to her pregnancy difficulties and then resumed due to birthing injuries. I stayed faithful and dealt with my intimate needs myself. Sidebar is that I am a very intimate person and had always struggled with our intimate relationship. At times when she would

get drunk and become abusive, I would consider strain. I went as far as going for a walk with a girl once but felt awful and told the girl I had to leave. When our son was about a year old, she was clearly feeling overwhelmed, which was very reasonable. Even the most functional person would feel overwhelmed being with an infant 24-7 with no friends, no family, and a disengaged husband. She started drinking again as a result. But at the time, I didn't see how this was a symptom of her lack of support. All I saw was that my son was going to grow up. like I did, and she was breaking her promise without trying to get help. One night around 2 a.m., I heard noises in our bedroom and found her passed out drunk with our toddler crawling around on the

floor. I went in and grabbed our toddler and angrily whispered, yelled, What are you doing? If you passed out with him on the chair, you could have suffocated him and started leaving with him. She got angry and punched me in the face and pulled our toddler from my arms. I completely lost my temper, and for the first time ever, I hit her back. I hit her like a father would hit the back of a child's head when they're misbehaving. It was fairly hard. She started crying. Something broke inside me in that moment. The level of abuse, dysfunction, my disappointment in myself for hurting her, for hurting our child, for bringing him into this environment and failing to make life safe and stable for him, it all flooded me. I'd become a horrible, hateful person. I had so much resentment for my wife,

my partner in life, my co-parent, that I hit her. I felt sick to my stomach and I knew that I would never do something like this again. If I ever got near that point, I need to leave, not just the physical space, but the relationship. The next day we talked, and she said she deserved it, and knew she needed to change. More of the same, not addressing the issues, but feeling shameful and swearing off drinking for a time, only to eventually build enough resentment and stress to justify returning. And frequently, binge nights happened, but they were limited to her playing loud music, which was upsetting, but I did my best to ignore it and try to sleep. We moved to a new house in the fall of 2022, and things were good in terms of drinking. She didn't really drink at home at all.

We had intimate times, maybe twice a month, but it felt like a chore and seemed to hurt her. Life was a grind. I would get up, work, come home, do child care, and she would try to see me for a bit after our toddler fell asleep. Usually, we'd be together for 10 to 20 minutes before she would wake up screaming. It was so stressful that she would sometimes not try to see me and just stay in bed scrolling for a couple of hours before sleeping herself. I could see that it frustrated and overwhelmed her too. We had zero time to ourselves.

Her family was not functional and in another part of the country. My family had all passed away. She didn't want any babysitters until our toddler could speak clearly and was mature enough to share any situations of mistreatment. I felt like a paycheck.

She felt like a mom robot. She was trying hard, staying sober, and she got her license, and she could drive him to some appointments. I tried talking to her about driving to appointments across the city, so I didn't need to leave work. But she was too nervous with our toddler in the car. She tried talking to me about being more involved and present. All she wanted from me was to get up with them at 7 to 8 a.m. They slept together in our bed, so she was alone at night and alone getting up in the morning. I slept in the basement.

I would often work or game until 3 to 4 a.m. And get up around 9 to 10 a.m. I asked her to move him into the baby room, but she wouldn't because she felt anxious that she was too far away at night. Unable to respond in time for a fire, wouldn't tear a medical issue, etc. I was upset that I paid for a four-bedroom house in an expensive area and we used one bedroom.

She was upset about my lack of support. I was upset about her lack of connection. She was too. I asked for therapy, but she refused. I started developing feelings for a coworker. I told myself that if I hit midlife and dedicated 15 years to this person and drinking was still a problem, and on top of that, I'm developing feelings for another woman, and feeling like my attempts to resolve things with my wife weren't working,

that I needed to end the relationship before I cheated. I brought up that I was in a really, scary mental state, that I wasn't doing well mentally, and that I needed her to hear me. I needed connection. She got angry and refused to do anything until I stepped up. She brought up all the wrong I had done. The next time she drank, she played loud music while I was trying to put our child into bed. I texted her about it and she told me something like, now you know how it feels to struggle alone as a parent, bud. The next day I told her I wanted a divorce. Her reaction scared the shit out of me. She was so sad and scared and shaking, scream crying, begging me to stay.

I felt so fucking bad. So awful. So guilty. It hurt me so deeply to see the woman I love hurting so bad. I knew I was developing intense feelings for another woman and felt checked out. But how the fuck do I just leave the mother of my child? who has no other supports in this state. At the same time, how do I continue? I was totally tapped out. I had nothing left. I was so sad, but also so angry that she didn't go into therapy with me before,

that I went through more than a decade of intense abuse and infidelity. She refused to address it, but now that something is hurting her. She is totally invested in therapy in that I don't want to was seen by her as unfair, not giving her a chance, abandoning and betraying her. It was so hard. I told her I don't want to reconcile until I see her do the work to address the root causes of her drinking. No more caving and forgiving because of promises to be better. I need to see it first.

My feelings for my coworker were getting stronger. As we worked closely together, I told myself I need to either forget about other women and totally dedicate myself to my wife altogether and accept a lifetime of struggle with these issues, or try connecting with another woman to see what it's like. I began opening up about my emotional pain to my coworker. She told me she was going through a breakup, and I lied and said I was too. I took my ring off at work so she could be more open to talking. to me deeply. I thought I would wait until my wife had done some therapy and cut off the conversations with my coworker if my wife put in the effort to make progress. My wife wouldn't go to therapy solo, or Alcoholics Anonymous. She said she doesn't need it and was only interested

in going with me. This made it seem to me like she wasn't focused on her drinking or her trauma only in reconciling. To reconcile, I needed her to make that. shift. I was growing closer and closer with my co-worker, and we started going for drives outside of work at night. My car broke down in a remote spot, and it was in the middle of a cold snap in March. The tow truck was a two-hour wait. We huddled up, and I put my arm around her. I hadn't had intimate relations in weeks, and was not thinking clearly. I started touching her intimately, and we had intimate time. It was very fast, only a couple of minutes. As soon as it was done, the tow truck came. I took her home and went home myself. I felt sick and I went to what was now

my basement apartment and cried while I cleaned myself. I reached out to a male friend who told me to deny until I die. I thought my wife would commit S word if I told her, but I wonder if we could have worked through it. Maybe I was just selfish and a coward. Weeks went by, and I did couples therapy with my wife. I wasn't able to invest fully because of my connection with my coworker. Even without her, I don't know if I would have been able to succeed in couples therapy. When I brought up the years of unaddressed abuse, resentment, and betrayal, my wife would fairly point out that it was years ago. I'm just focusing on the negative. Let's move forward.

We couldn't seem to focus on and get validation about my past hurts with her. And she didn't want to do AA or therapy individually for her trauma. I stopped going to a couple's therapy and started engaging with my coworker more. I told my wife that I needed space to think and just to see if my feelings change. This was true in a way. But I didn't give her a fair shot at all because there was no space for my feelings to change. She stayed sober and was an absolute rock star mom and partner. I feel so fucking awful for being unfaithful to her.

She caught on and started finding the evidence. She found my co-worker's hair on my shirt and asked me about it. I denied it. She went through my phone records and saw I've been calling her often. I told her I had developed a connection with her and was confining in her. But that's it. That wasn't true. She demanded I stop.

I told her I would. I did for a couple weeks, but started again. She found cat hair on my clothes one night. I denied it was due to being at a co-worker's house. She found intimate stains on my pants one night. I said it was from snooking it. I mentally abused her by gaslighting her. She knew she was right, but wanted to believe me so bad.

And I took advantage of that. In September of 2023, I still maintained that I wasn't dating, but that I wanted to. I encouraged her to go on dating sites and start dating, that I would watch our toddler for her so she could date others and have the romantic connection and simple human connection she craved. Unfortunately, this caused so many triggers for her that she began drinking again. It got bad, fast. I found her at home unconscious drunk during the day with our toddler running, around. I told her I would have to take them away if she didn't get help. She swore that she would,

but things just got worse. She started going on two to four day benders, showing up high on something, not looking, talking, or acting like herself. I was so hurt and so angry. I started sleeping at my co-worker's house a few nights a week and set up cameras at home to make sure our toddler was safe while I wasn't there. She asked me for help and I gave her a therapist name and offered to pay for everything. I was also giving her $2,000 to $3,000 per month of spending money while carrying all expenses except groceries. I offered to get maids to take care of cleaning and produce the load. We reached a point where she said she needed to be out of the house and away from my clothes, I smell, my presence, so she could heal. I told her I needed the freedom to drug or out.

alcohol test her at any time to make sure our toddler was safe. This became an emergency court action, and she eventually agreed. I helped her get a new townhouse, gave her the car, but she drove drunk and crashed it twice. My insurance covered the repairs both times, totaling $17,000. It became very scary. Her grandma died, who was one of the last people who she felt connected to, I could see a dark change in her, and she began wearing her grandma's hats and bracelets. Her other grandma died not long after, and she got even worse. I reached out to my wife's brother to express my concern, and to my surprise, he was not angry with me. He was just as scared as me, and we meant to talk about our fear that she was dying.

Selfishly, my thoughts were that I could never escape being the rescuer to my wife's emergencies. there was always an emergency. If I wasn't having an affair and simply ended our marriage, it would have still been a 10 out of 10 betrayal. And she still would have viewed me the same way, I think, who knows of him right? I held fast and didn't end my affair to reconcile or just be a support for her. I maintained that she needed to go to AA, go to therapy, and stop going on two to four day benders, forcing me to be off work and confusing slash scaring our toddler.

I decided to move out in March of 2024. My wife got her own place in April of 2024. I couldn't financially manage paying my wife $2,000 per month, net to help her survive while also paying for my own household and expenses. I cut my work hours from 50 hours per week to 20 so I could watch our toddler. This allowed my wife to work. My coworker and I were becoming more serious, and I opened up to my wife about the fact that I was dating her,

but lied about the timeline. I said I started dating her in October. She was devastated and confirmed that I had been lying the whole time. She said she was not comfortable with my coworker being around our child until we had been dating for a year. My coworker said she needs me to be completely honest with my wife. No more lies, no more half-truths. So I was. I told my wife I've been dating my coworker since May 2023.

She was devastated all over again. She went through all the events I gasped her about, all the lies, all the times it seemed like we were connecting and told me that this was going to kill her. The lack of honesty and betrayal, I was her person, her husband, the one person who didn't leave her no matter how she treated me or what she did. And that in 2022,

she finally started feeling safe with me. We were talking about having a second child, but at the end of 2022, I blacked out because I didn't want to have another child before the drinking issue was treated. She told me she wants me to be totally honest with my coworker. And if I was and my coworker didn't leave me, she would meet my coworker and consent to her child being around during the days. I had our toddler at house. I told my coworker 70% of the truth, but didn't tell her that I cheated on her with

my wife three times over the course of the year. Obviously, my co-worker felt hurt, betrayed, angry, sad, and demanded that I don't continue conversations with my wife. I don't go to her house. I don't play the role of her support figure. I should have said too bad. I know it's unfair. But this is my child's mother who is in a crisis and my primary job right now is to come clean about everything and trying to help my wife get sober and healthy. I didn't though. I tried my best to toe the line. I wanted to keep my new relationship and work my way up to being honest. I was in therapy. I face-time my wife daily, either to do bedtime stories with her toddler when he was at her place or vice versa. I took her food to show affection through her grieving process with her grandmother's

deaths and our divorce. In mid-May of this year, I realized I couldn't do this. I'd rather be with my wife, drinking or not, and do my best to help her. Seeing her in this much pain and knowing how much I contributed and how awful it was, I knew I had to stop what I was doing. I called my mom. She lives far away in case anyone is wondering why she was not a family support for our child, to tell her the truth about everything. My mom was very disappointed in me, but supported me in returning to my wife.

I decided to sleep on it. If I still felt so strongly and so certainly the next day, I would tell my coworker that I am not sorry, but I must prioritize family. In the morning, I got a call that she had died by S word the night before. She left a note saying that she could not handle the PTSD and nightmares from a gaslight in her. She was clear in the note that this was my fault, that I betrayed and abandoned her.

and left her alone during the worst time of her life. She was clear, explicitly, that I killed her. The coroners and detectives warned me not to read the notes, but I had to know. I came clean to my co-worker about everything, including my intent to leave. Now I have lost my wife, the mother of my child, my person. I see clearly now how despite her flaws and faults, and although her drinking was not my fault, the stress I caused her that often triggered her drinking was my fault. I see how much more I could have done.

I see how horribly abusive I was. My wife was too, but not in the recent past. I see how distorted I was. I wake up in the night often. I cry constantly. I have breakdowns multiple times per day. I shake. I feel sick.

I might as well have killed my wife myself. My child is going to grow up with no family except for me. When they are 18 and ask me the truth about their mom, I will tell them. And they will hate me. I don't need any of you to tell me how awful I am. I already know. I want to die. If it wasn't for my mom,

my toddler, I would commit S-word. I now struggled day to day trying to stay alive to look after my child. I hate myself. I hate what I have done. I hate that I will never have a chance to explain to her. I hate that I slept on it. I was less than 12 hours away from making my decision while she was still alive, and I'm certain it would have prevented her death.

Why? I hate that I prioritize the person I knew. knew and dated for a year over the person I was with for 15 years, married, and had a child with. Yeah, she abused me. Who fucking cares? She would have always been there. If I put in more effort, she would have been okay. All she needed was some support.

She was alone in the world except for me, and I checked out on her. Yeah, she refused so many chances to heal or address her issues before, but who the fuck cares? Why be spiteful or say should have changed when you had the chance? All that matters is that she was ready. That it wasn't on my timeline, didn't warn my spiteful withdrawal. I ruined my life. I killed my wife.

I lost my girlfriend. I destroyed my family. I destroyed my wife's family. I devastated my mom who lost a daughter and now has a shell of a son. I upped my life insurance to $3 million. I hope I die. My child will be set for life and will not have to deal with having a monster for a father. So many people tried to warn me.

My coworker asked me many times if I was certain I was done with my wife. She said if I wanted to try again with her, I could. And she would wait for me. My best friend warned me. My wife begged me to give her one more chance. I am so sorry for what I have done. I don't deserve to live. And, uh, me hell, let's just sit with that for a second because that's a lot to process.

A ton of emotion in the opi's writing. This is just one of the most intense and emotional confessions or threads I've ever read before. The opi doesn't seem to be doing okay. I mean, most of the time these confessions end on a good note. This one just kept going down and down and down. and he doesn't seem to be doing well. Let's get into some of the comments because the OP does lay out some more issues or address some issues in the comments. So let's get into that.

The OP says, I'm in therapy in a bereavement group. I needed to dump all my thoughts somewhere and I don't want to put this on a friend. I've had some nice comments of support. I hope someone somewhere who might be in a similar situation will read my story and maybe it'll help them pause and consider what could happen. I never thought S-word would be the outcome here. I thought I had time to try a relationship with someone stable for a while.

Worst case scenario in my mind was I regretted it and asked my wife to take me back. It can happen to anyone. It's definitely not the norm, but most people who are cheated on don't die from S-word, but it can't happen. And that's the reason. He outlined it here well, and the reason why I make a lot of these confession videos, because these people or these people that make these posts can really provide support for everyone watching now. If you're in a similar situation, you're not alone. And you can just learn some lessons from people who have already been through something

and you can just realize that you're not alone and, you know, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and you can figure out your own experience or your situation. Some other commenter says this is one of the most haunting things, I have ever read. I will never forget you. This will live with me forever now. I'll keep you and your child in my thoughts. Always.

And then the OP response saying, I also feel haunted by this, by every misstep, every choice. It is a nightmare. And I can't believe I've made such bad decisions that this is now my life. No do-overs. This is it.

Every day forever. Thank you for your third. thoughts. Another commenter says, my heart breaks for you, man. The only thing that's going to help you is therapy and time. You're doing the right thing by being accountable. Attending support groups and individual therapy sessions, but this is a long, long road. Eventually, you'll come to understand that you're not a monster. You're just a guy that made a series of very bad decisions that had you known the ramifications of beforehand wouldn't have made. There was no way for you to know how your wife was going to react when you were honest with her. Stick in there. It gets better.

Put in the work and be a better person for your kid. And the OPE responds to this saying, Thank you for this. It's interesting that when I read what you're saying, I can believe that is true, but I don't feel it. Right now, I think any attempt I make to lighten the path feels like letting myself off the hook. My wife is dead, and it feels wrong to do anything except suffer horribly. I hope in time I experience healing and can remember all the positives about her and how much joy she brought to her family and those around her.

You are right that I am a human being who made bad choices. I think that undersells the significance and impact of my behavior and how short-sighted it was, but at the end of the day, I was hurting and not thinking clearly at all. My child is my priority now. These cycles can't be allowed to repeat. Two generations now have died prematurely to O. Dean or S-word. My measure of success in my toddler, growing up happy, healthy, safe, and loved.

And I mean, that's great the O.P. is taking accountability and realizing that the best steps forward is to take care of his child and to make sure this doesn't happen again. And the cycle doesn't repeat. So that's a great, you know, happy ending. And then the O.P does answer a lot of general questions, which we can get into briefly. He makes an edit saying, Wow, I am overwhelmed by the comments here, and so I will write a general response to everyone. For those who wrote with support, thank you so much.

The comments of support from strangers are oddly comforting. I am doing my best to heal. Though at this point, it does feel like recovery from this is not possible. I'm trying to take the perspective that this is the emotional version of a catastrophic physical injury. Where the best outcome possible is recovering some ability and making peace with the ability that has been lost. For those who can relate, I'm sorry.

If you can relate to my story, you have likely gone through a lot of pain and a lot of experience with severe mental health issues or addictions. I hope you find healing in your life. For those who wrote that, this is fake. I think it would be good to reflect on why you think it's important to post comments like this. What is gained?

The best case scenario is you are correct and someone is hurting so much in their personal life that they make up fake stories to get some type of connection. Someone without comfort in their life as a human being and need a help. Why would you want to prioritize catching them rather than giving them support?

I checked a couple of profiles of people who wrote these negative comments about fake posts and generally, the comment histories are intense, angry, and negative. If this is you, I hope you find whatever is missing from your life that is hurting you so much.

For those who wrote hateful messages about my wife, I think only someone who has been hurt by others who have addictions can lack empathy and feel so justified in condemning another human being. I hope you're able to heal from your anger and find peace in your life. Addiction is horrible, but it is only a symptom of the pain that person has been through.

Some people have enough support to heal and overcome this, but not everyone does. It is helpful, I think, to not just, judge people who are struggling in this way. For those who have messaged me wishing death upon me, I think only someone who has been hurt by another person in their life who has done something like I have done could be so angry that they would wish death upon me. I am sorry you have experienced so much pain in your life and I hope you will find healing. For those who ask kindly for clarification about certain points that seem unusual, my mom lives very far away, so it was

untrue to say that all my family has passed away. For someone like me who grew up with grandparents, aunts and uncles, mom and dad, it feels like I've lost everyone. I understand if some of you believe you've caught some major mistake, and this proves conclusively this is a fake story. And you are entitled to that belief? It does not justify you sending messages of hate. Regarding the term coworker versus employee, I have never viewed those who work for me as less than. I go out of my way to not call myself boss or them employees or subordinates totally outside the point of my post. I also go out of my way to avoid creating a dynamic of work where I am clearly superior to anyone else, like the above. If you believe this is proof that my story is fake, that's okay. But again,

please don't act hatefully. You can just move on from the post. And that is the last we've heard of the OP from this post and about this post. So I really do hope this OP and the OP is doing better now. And I really liked how he answered the questions at the end because sometimes I read the comments on this video or the videos that I make. If he were like, oh, that's a fake confession. And he outlined it well there. It's like, why would someone fake a confession for just some like internet pity points? I don't know. Sure, it's possible. But at the same time, why would someone spend so much time fabricating a fake story to gain pity? points. I don't know. Sure. He said, believe it if you want. But I'm really glad that he answered

all those questions at the end because I'm sure a lot of you were thinking that or thinking of some of those questions. So I'm glad he provided those answers. But I really do hope the OPE is doing better now. And if anyone watching, it's going through something similar. Hopefully this added some, you know, comfort to you to realize that you're not alone and that you can get through it. And I hope the OPE is just doing better now. And he can just, you know, continue on getting better and better each day. raising his child the best he can, and just improving his life from this horrible catastrophe that I hope he can move on from and learn something from

and rest in peace to Opie's wife and, you know, everyone involved. But very, very terrifying and sad and depressing story. I just hope everyone is well now. On to the next one. I slowly became an alcoholic and it ruined my life. Male 25. moved to California about a month before the pandemic, came to start a small production company in the Bay Area

with my longtime best friend. I met an older woman about a week before the pandemic that turned into an intense romance, and we fled the Bay Area for the SoCal Desert around the second week of March. I was immediately intoxicated by the landscape and felt an incredible draw to the environment in its earthly beauty,

the magenta-kissed mountains at dawn, the soft afternoon breeze, the psychedelic sunsets, what started as a two-week stint, she returned to her parents' home to quarantine, we still remain together, turned into nine months plus of staying there. I've always enjoyed isolation and felt it was a positive, detoxifying place for me to be after living in New York for almost seven years. It started slow, with just a few sips of something to take the edge off and relax while watching the sunset. As the nights followed, what started as a few steps turned into glass upon glass upon glass. Frequently, if not every night for nearly four months straight, finishing a half a handle.

I would religiously, each night light candles and listen to music and it just all felt so calm. It seemed in some way to amplify the beauty of the desert environment. It helped me feel, something I guess. I hadn't felt before. Free. Although I was strictly drinking mescal, which never left me with a single hangover, I did not realize the effects of such heavy drinking on my day-to-day cognitive function. The euphoria I would experience each night at times almost psychedelic in nature

flowed into my everyday and the feeling of confidence, invincibility, and what I can only describe as true happiness only grew in. deeper. I was running half marathons, taking some of the strongest photographs of my career, and making a ton of new friends. However, these feelings were also leading me to make extremely rash and erratic decisions, from making extremely speculative investments at huge losses, cheating on my girlfriend with multiple women, and carelessly making mistakes at my job, and withdrawing all of my life savings to purchase a piece of land, in the desert. The effects of the liquor only compounded and compounded with each decision and action

being more careless and thoughtless than the last, and by the end of the summer, I've been fired from my job, had nearly thrown away my career, was a nearly $100,000 worth of debt, and was on the brink of losing my girlfriend. Now in 2021, I've been sober for nearly 32 days, but I'm still just climb back at the effects of my alcoholism from last year. I don't know what it was that drove me to drink in such excess. Spend in such excess. Act without any regard for the true consequences of my actions for myself and those around me. How I allowed my life to completely spiral out of control.

Perhaps it was what I felt the alcohol alleviated for my lifelong battle with depression and anxiety. During those summer months, I can't remember feeling sad or angry. anxious or lonely a single time. I can't lie. I wish more than anything in the world to feel like that again. I've been battling Sward thoughts more recently and weirdly fantasizing about living out the last few months of my life like that again, just to feel like that one more time. But I know I can't because it will destroy whatever it is I have left. I left my wife because I thought she was cheating. She became a H-Sachian. addict. I found out she never cheated. Disclaimer. I have always been an emotional, stupid,

dumbass, wrecking ball of a person. I wish I could say this was out of the norm. I've been in therapy since I was 11 years old. I met my wife in 2005 in a nightclub in Lower Manhattan, and she was an amazing person, and we connected right away. We dated, then got married in 2007, I was 23, she was 25. But we were in love, and to us, it didn't really matter. We actually had a good marriage, and I loved her, and she loved me. I was shocked at how much we got along for so many years. Meanwhile, most people in relationships started to hate me almost like after three months.

She still adored me after seven years, but leave it up to me to screw that up completely. In 2014, I had suspicions. she was cheating on me. Not strong suspicions, but she had a co-worker who she was friends with, who was, well, really attractive. I just thought, why be friends with this guy? She didn't often make friends with her coworkers. Why this guy specifically? Because he was hot? She was secretive about him, which made me way more suspicious. I remember one day she told me that she had a secrets about him, which she would eventually tell me. I probably should have listened and understood what she said more. The hints she was dropping seemed really obvious in retrospect. I didn't get any of her

hints. For a bit, she got defensive over the phone. That was when I sort of began really suspecting things. One day, I checked her phone, and all I saw was him texting her saying he really needs to speak to her, right now, like a bunch of texts. Also texts about inappropriate intimate stuff. But it was really the, I need to see you now texts, which really threw me off. I didn't even confront her. That's the worst part.

I just left and went to New Mexico to go stay with my parents. I was so sure she cheated on me. Nothing could convince me otherwise. I was so hurt that I became S word for a tiny bit. then I went to therapy and got better. But I blocked her in every possible way I could. She had no idea why I left. My therapist kept telling me to contact her.

I never listened. I actually lied to my therapist and said I did. There were some times where she called my parents and I talked to her and just said that I knew she was cheating and that I couldn't be with her and that was that and then I'd just hung up. It was too horrible and emotional. and I just wanted to put it all behind me somehow. I wanted to act as if it never happened.

I didn't have the boss to deal with it. I didn't file divorce papers at that time. I never explained anything further than that. I just hung up. In 2015, I painfully reconnected with her. I never told her why I left. I felt horrible, but I also felt angry at her for cheating on me. I never wanted to know who she cheated on me with

or what the situation was. I just wanted her out of my life. But when I finally connected with her, I just found an entirely new person. She was in and out of rehab. She was a pill addict. She said it started after I left her, that she had a lot of pills left over from a surgery she had.

She had a knee surgery in 2013 and started taking them a lot to deal with the pain of me leaving her. Then she connected with her friends. who started selling pills to her. Anyways, after a bit more of talking with her online over quite a few weeks, I eventually told her the situation as to why I thought she cheated. It was sort of this unspoken thing beforehand. I told her I didn't want her to bring it up.

Then I just asked her straight up. And she told me, that was her co-worker, and he was gay. She hung out with him a lot, and he would often call her and text her to come over so they could talk about his problems. I checked his Facebook, and he came out officially as gay in 2014. Before that, he was in the closet. Also, the inappropriate, intimate stuff they were talking about suddenly made so much sense.

They were comparing the way women and men have intimate times to the way men have intimate with men. But it didn't seem obvious by the text I read. It just kind of sounded like they were planning to do intimate time with each other. In retrospect, it seemed painfully obvious, but at the time it wasn't. I just wish I didn't fucking freak out and leave. I think if I ever mentioned his name, it would have clicked for her. And she would have told me why it was just a misunderstanding.

But she had zero idea why I suspected her of cheating. I left to my wife, never spoke to her again, and went halfway across the country over a misspoken series of texts that I read because I was a sneaky fucking bastard, and I was too emotional to even ask my wife what the problem was. I just left. I never asked her to clarify anything. She would go on to become a H addict from a pill addict.

She posts sometimes about how she is three weeks sober, but it's never longer than that. I'm basically an alcoholic and live near my parents in Albuquerque. I have zero interest in finding a girlfriend. Instead, I have a bunch of meaningless one-night stand, when I go out on weekends. I am almost always hammered and booger-sugured up or adderalled up

when I go out on the weekends. I sort of have friends, but not really. They're just a bunch of alcoholics and party people in the area who I link up with on weekends. I can't be away from my parents now. They're the only people I enjoy being around. I'm just an emotionally fragile mess

who feels like they completely ruin someone's life over something so, stupid. I know it sounds stupid, but for the past few years, my parents are the only friends I have and the only people I really see besides the people at my job in the woman I sleep with, who I never make connections with. I cannot help but think I will literally never get out of this. The fact that I ruined her life over this. I go to therapy, but it doesn't help enough. I still sometimes talked to her. We officially got divorced. Nothing split in 2017. She is a H-addict, and I am horribly depressed, so we have some relations, but I can't help but think that I ruined her life far,

far more than I ruined mine. And the worst part is, the only reason I am in pain is because I ruined her life. And just, man, that's such a insane. confession. Yeah, that's just a good reason to not jump to conclusions. Even one of the top comments says, Damn, dude, I'll remember this next time I want to jump to conclusions. But wow, I mean, he just read something on his girlfriend's phone or his wife's phone, seemed intimate, seemed, you know, like she was cheating,

and he just flipped out, moved across the country, and ruined her life. Wow, I just, I hope the O.P. is doing better now. I really do. I mean, it's been seven years since this post. Seven years is a long, long time. And who knows what the O.P is doing now? I just hope the O.P is doing better now. I hope the O.P's wife or ex-wife is doing better now because, yeah, by the end of this post, it didn't seem like either of them were in a good spot at all. But seven years is a long time to hopefully heal and hopefully they are doing better now. There hasn't been a single update from the O.P. This is the only post on the OP's entire Reddit account. So I just have to, I just have to hope that they're doing

better. But there's no way to know. And now let's read some top comments. Someone says, you effed up. You still love her. She loved you. She might still. Reach out to her and explain what happened and ask for forgiveness. It might work. It might not. Either way, it sounds like you need each other. And I mean, a lot of the comments are just kind of flaming the O.P. for reasons that are obvious. But, yeah, geez, that is just such a sad post, such a depressing post as the title of this video. So shocking. That's how he ruined his life and her life by just jumping to conclusions, doing something rational. And I hope we can all learn a lesson from this and, you know, say let's not jump to conclusions and instead talk to one another and figure stuff out because jumping to

conclusions really doesn't help anybody and so yeah like i said earlier i just hope the opi's ex-wife is doing better now i'm dying and have told nobody this might be somewhat long but i basically just made this reddit account to talk about it some introductions first i'm 22 male and for the greater part of a year I have noticed myself growing gradually weaker. I am an avid golfer, he used to be able to hit drives upwards of 290 to 300 yards. Now I'm lucky to hit it 220 to 230 yards. In addition, I am also someone who used to enjoy jogging

until multiple repetitive falls, more or less, forced me to quit. There are other symptoms that raise concern, but I won't bore anyone with the extensive details. At any rate, about six months I had my initial consultation with my neurologist, and he was very dismissive of my symptoms, saying they were likely caused by anxiety and to not read further into it. After some protests on my part, he agreed to perform some diagnostic testing in a few months if nothing had improved. Four months go by, and of course, things got worse. Perplexed my neurologist ordered an EMG, which, if you did not know, is a test which involves measuring the activity

of nerves in the body through the use of needle electrodes. Sounds awful, truly was not that bad. As the test began, the technician was very amicable and talkative, but as soon as the first needle went into my arm, her demeanor changed immediately, as if any levity had suddenly been drained from her. That was the first time I began to truly worry. Upon completing the test, she immediately sent the results to my neurologist, who, that very same day, arranged for additional testing including, but not limited to MRI, extensive neurological exam, strength tests, and an additional EMG, the whole shebang to be completed within the week. At any rate, following the completion of the second EMG, this time by my neurologist himself. I was summoned into his office. After jotting down

some quick notes and doing some mental aerobics, he asked very politely for me to sit down. And before the words even left his mouth, I immediately knew what was going to come out. And that's essentially the story of how I went from being a perfectly normal 22-year-old to being told that I had Lou Gehrig's disease and three to five years of life left. And I just quickly looked up Lou Gehrig's disease and apparently it's a progressive neurological disorder that attacks every nerve cell

in the brain and spinal cord causing loss of voluntary muscle control, weakness and eventually paralysis with death often resulting from respiratory failure, though mental function remains intact. So that is beyond terrifying.

And then the OP continues saying all things considered, I can I consider myself extremely fortunate that I still have most of faculties about me for the time being. But on to the reason I made this post. Since my diagnosis, which was about two months ago, I have yet to tell anyone in person about it. My family and I have never been particularly close, and most of my friends are college buddies who now live close to 500 miles away.

Of course, everyone is bound to find out eventually, but I would honestly be okay if they never did. The mere thought of burdening everyone as I slowly turn into furniture is almost more debilitating than the knowledge that my body is growing slightly more useless every day. I know it is the right choice to garner a support system, but it's almost as if I don't really want one. I just want to disappear. Forgotten by all those who would otherwise pity my circumstance,

I'm fully aware that I have no choice in the matter. This is just my way of exercising some minor control over my life before I lose control over everything else. And I mean, God, that is just so depressing and so terrifying because with ALS, it's just a slow deterioration of your body. And it's not like, I mean, all horrible terminal diseases are like that, but like, it's just terrifying how you just slowly lose muscle function. but you remain intact in your brain,

and then you just can't use your body anymore, and then you just eventually die. I mean, that is terrifying and so, so depressing. And now let's get into some top comments. Someone says, maybe this won't make you feel better. O-P, but at the very least, knowing that you have three to five years allows you to prioritize the things you want to do

in the time you have left. Young people die suddenly every day and never get the chance to think about what they would have or should have done. We're all going to die eventually. And personally, I hope I'm one of the people who gets plenty of advance warning. But of course, I'm sure it's different

when you're actually in that position. Anyway, don't worry about paying back your student loans or your credit card debt or watching what you eat. Go do whatever the heck you want to do. Enjoy your freedom. And then someone replies saying three of those last years could be him lying in a hospital,

bed 24-7, unable to talk, eat, swallow, or breathe properly. The pulmonary system is the last to give in, and ALS patients often spend a long time absolutely paralyzed before actual biological death occurs. I'm really, really sorry to be a spoil sport here, but it could be only even a few months before he's bedbound. One of my patients had, like less than a year from the initial diagnosis, weak right arm, unsteady balance, until the last. stage where he slash she was in a ventilator only able to blink. It took him slash her actually several years in that state to die. Jesus man. Someone else says unless you have a highly toxic relationship with your mother tell her I'm fighting back tears just thinking that it could be my son

hiding something so serious from me. Mothers usually only want what is best for their children for them to be happy and healthy. Give her the chance to be there for you. You will need help down the line. You will need someone to speak and advocate for you. Someone who only has your best interest at heart. Often that is a mother or a spouse. And yeah, that is just so, so sad. And the final comment I'll read is, holy shit, dude, I'm so sorry. I don't advocate S word, but I think in that circumstance, I would live my life as well as I possibly could for as long as I could and then get it medically assisted if at all possible. Cheers, mate. Live in love as hard as you can. I can't do much, but I'll raise a glass for you. And then the OP actually responds to this saying, as it were,

one of the first things I considered post-diagnosis was S-word, even though it is undeniably a self-centered thing to do. I can't envision myself peacefully living out my final days locked inside my own bodily prison. That, in my opinion, is nothing short of sheer torture. And yeah, that is so haunting. And this was posted nine years ago. And it's been nine years since the OP made a comment so we can only assume the worst that the OP has since passed away. Hopefully the OP lived out their final days, doing what they loved. And, um, wow, that just really, really hits. I mean, hits hard.

I mean, it's so shocking and so sad and so depressing to be diagnosed with something, especially so young, 22. And he only found out he had a few years left to live. And the final years might not even be really living. They will be, like he said, trapped inside his bodily prison. Wow. Yeah, super, super sad. And, I mean, the O.P.'s name is enter oblivion, which we can only assume relates to death,

entering the oblivion of whatever, death. I mean, yeah, that is just really, really sad. And rest in peace, the O.P., I hope he's in a better place now. My drug use finally caused me to lose my friends, my family, and most likely my job, and I deserve it all. Throwaway for obvious reasons. This is very long, but I need to write it down. First off, I'm a drug addict, and I have diagnosed major depression disorder and general anxiety disorder. I tried to self-medicate with my drugs of choice, OTC pills, Dihann Divenine, which is Benadryl, and Dexomedthropon, which is Robitussin. I can never find a consistent person to buy marijuana from, and when I did, I never really liked the high it gave me, so I went with OTC drugs. They are everywhere and easily accessible. I'm psychologically addicted to them.

For about 10 years, my drug use has been my issue. It didn't really affect anyone except me. My immediate family knew I was struggling with it, but they would always support me and try to help with me with my recovery. But six months ago, that all changed. You should know that it deserved everything to happen to me. It started with losing my friends. I was tripping on roughly 1,500 milligrams of dextromethafroin.

I ruined a friendship with that. a group of people in the blink of an eye. While I was tripping on the 1,500 milligrams, I called and left two very creepy and delusional social media voicemails on one of my good friend's sister's account. She literally has no idea who I am, and out of the blue, I left two delusional sounding voicemails. One was, hello, I know you're an expert in the medical field, and I would like to pick your brain on an idea that could revolutionize the medical field. I know this place down by the river where we can talk. Thinking I left a very well-thought-out message while tripping out of my mind.

I hang up with a beam of self-confidence and pride that I'm actually going to put this into action. But what the actual fuck? I know a place down by the river? I have an idea that could revolutionize the medical field? Who the hell speaks like that to a person that has zero idea of who I am? In my head, I'm thinking what a great idea I put forward and what a great restaurant down by the river front we could discuss it all. It was a quaint little new-age vegan place that prides itself on making food that tastes

delicious. I'm not vegan, but I had a place the week before with a woman who was vegan, and I figured I'd try the place. It was actually really good, so I thought it would be a great place to hit it up again. She runs to her brother, one of my best friends, about what I said and how I sounded. He messaged me to get my shit together. And like that, boom, friendship lost, gone in the blink of an eye. He is one of the most laid-back individuals that rarely gets mad or pissed off, but I went too far. I always go too far. I brought an unknown individual into my fucked up life, and not only was it an unknown individual, but his sister. What the fuck was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking I'm a drug addict. The news quickly spreads around the friend group. We are all pretty tight. Or, well, we were pretty tight. Well, actually, they are still a pretty tight group. I'm just kicked out. And it's deserved. I deserve to lose my friends.

Good people do not hang out with drug addicts and people who make awful decisions. Good people don't enable that behavior. They leave. And that's what they did. They left. I have no one to blame but myself. No more invites to go bowling, no more invites to go to a barbecue, no more invites to hang out and watch a sports game on a random night.

It's gone, and it's my fault. The interesting thing at this point is that, before I messaged his sister on my drug-addled-induced insane brain, I was actually clean for about six months. Not too bad, right? Six months is a long time to be clean for a struggling addict, but it doesn't matter. The first of three strong pillars that I used to lean on is reduced to nothing. I was never formally kicked out of her friend group. It was just understood.

I know to not come around anymore. I know to seclude myself. I read between the lines. No more chances, no more forgiveness. I crossed the line. I went too far for the last time. It's my fault. There's no one to blame but me.

Knowing this, I turned to more drugs. I quit the robitussin and go back to my favorite drug of choice. Benadryl. I'm down in a 50 to 125 milligram die-hand-ha-dermine pills a day, and this stuff stays in your system for days. My eyes are dilated for at least two days. I'm pale, and my skin is flushed. I can't put coherent sentences together, and I sweat like a gross pig, just drenched

at any given moment. This is where I lose my family. My family has weekly dinners on Sunday just for us to hang out and catch up from the week. I come over, stoned out of my mind for the first time in months, and the first thing my father says to me is, I'm not going to deal with you when you're like this. He knew immediately. Everyone knew immediately when I walked in. It was left at that. But no one would talk to me or listen to what I said. I was ignored because they were not going to humor a drug addict. I was ignored. I didn't even realize I was being ignored. I kept thinking with the shit overconfidence that drug can give you

that I was great and everything was awesome. Narrator, it wasn't. Two weeks later, I noticed something. My family has a group chat, and all of a sudden they aren't talking to it anymore. I didn't realize that they made a new one, and they made a new one because they don't want to talk to a drug-addled human around two little nieces and one little nephew. That makes complete sense, right? Get the drug addict out. We don't want them anymore. Who wants a drug addict around?

No one. I only put it together when I showed up randomly on a Sunday, and my mother and father both say, what are you doing here? But not in the, oh, it's nice to see you, but in the, why are you over here stoned? We don't want you here. I replied with Sundays. We get together on Sundays.

They both just reply, oh. The next week was my brother's birthday, and I received a call two days before saying I was more than welcome to come, but that I had to pay my own way to the restaurant. That's a huge red flag. My parents never make us pay when we go out to eat as a family. The reason they said it is because I have,

to pay is because they were done supporting my addiction. If I was going to get stoned and come around my family blitz out of my mind, I was not going to get any of the perks of the family. That makes total sense. For years, they've held my hand to try and help me with my drug issue, and they're finally done holding my hand. Something needed to change that showed me they wouldn't deal with my shit anymore. It's a wake-up call for me. It was deserved. I'm not blind to the consequences I'm bearing because of the choices I made. Duh, it's obvious. It makes sense. Maybe to them, and finally me, it will be the only way they get through to me.

Nothing else worked, so maybe this might. On the day of my brother's birthday, I forgot it was his birthday. Usually a text would get sent out to the family group giving everyone a reminder, but remember, they aren't using the family group message I'm in. They made a separate one. They didn't even ask why I didn't show up. I brought it up and said, sorry, I forgot about your birthday. No one sent me a reminder message.

They all just kind of looked at me like, oh, okay. They figured I was high, and you know what? I was high. And why would they want that around? They don't. They are finished. Today is Sunday. They used to put our reminder text that we all get together today.

And they'll put out of the text, but I won't receive it. I've lost my family due to my own choices, just like my friends, will seclude myself from them. It's my punishment. It's my hell. I deserve it. Now, I've lost my friends and my family to do my decisions. I'm purposely secluded myself because it's the apt punishment for being the person I am. As a result, I've been doing more and more drugs.

I've been going into work the past three weeks stoned. It's obvious, and my coworkers and boss are furious, though they won't say it to my face. It's a great, hardworking company, but no bullshit as well. It's literally a dream job and position, and I'm shooting myself on the foot. My outside of work decisions are influencing my work. businesses don't give a shit the reason why you're having a bad time or whatever excuse you can come out with it's a job and you work they haven't told me yet but i can feel the dominoes falling people are very short with me i'm ignored and the big one my boss holds monthly one-on-one meetings with her subordinates to gauge how

they are feeling and how the job is going pretty nice right however when i asked she provides me with zero constructive criticism and they are taking work away from me those are literally the two biggest red flags and employees about to get fired. She also constantly talks about how this job may not fit for me and how maybe I should look into work in a different job. Fuck. However, this company is literally my dream job. All I can do is hopefully repair what little reputation I have left

by doing the absolute best I can and working digital energy to change my behavior. I have to get lucky. I have to hope I'm given the benefit of the doubt, but I'm literally down to the last straw. It's not outwardly said, but I can read the signs. If it's one thing I know how to do, it's to read people when they are disgusted with me and pissed at me. I'm so used to seeing these micro-expressions on people's faces due to my addiction, disappointment, anger, disgust.

Drug addicts know what those faces look like because they always see those faces. But it's not like I don't deserve it. It's absolutely unacceptable the way I'm behaving in a company that took a chance to invest in me. I can only hope it's not too late. I feel myself in my spiral downwards. I'm going to hit soon, and I'm going to hit hard. And there's no one to blame but me. I've already lost my friends and family.

I'm most likely going to lose my job. My depression is at an 11 out of 10 right now, and thoughts of S word are roaring through my brain. I'm of age. I can legally purchase a firearm. The only thing that's stopping me is a shred of hope that forgiveness is still possible. I need to get lucky.

But there is no reason I deserve that luck. I am what choices I make. And I've made awful choices. I deserve the repercussions that have come and will come from the decisions I made. I received $2,000 from an unknown source and kept it. A few months back one day, randomly, I got a notification that there's a new transaction and someone sent me $2,000 into my account. Now, getting this much money isn't unusual for me,

but according to my knowledge, no payment was lined up at that time. I simply left it like that in the wait that someone would reach out to me and tell me they accidentally sent me that instead of someone else. So I just left it like that and forgot it. About three weeks later, when I checked my account, that money was still there, and I recalled how it got it. So I called my bank and asked them how the transaction was made. They said it was transferred through the mobile app, but they can't show the account details.

I said okay and hung up the call. I waited one more week, and when no one reached out to me, I simply started considering it mine. Although I haven't spent it, they're still in my account even after like five months. A payroll glitch that allowed vastly overpaid me for months. This happened years ago, and I've never told anyone. I think it's been long enough that they can't ask for money back, but I still get nervous. I was making about $26 an hour. During our shift, we would clock in and out of jobs as we started.

and completed them. Each job was for a different company. I worked at a fabrication shop. Certain jobs had tasks that would pay close to $70 an hour. The company was pretty stingy on handing those tasks out, but I would average 5 to 10 hours of my 40-hour work week, making $70 an hour. One day they had their tech guys come in and change some things with their computers

where we would clock in and out of our daily jobs. Nothing on my end changed, clock in and out of the jobs per usual. I noticed my next paycheck was significantly higher and had about 20 hours of $70 hour work. I figured I didn't realize some of the tasks I was doing were at the $70 an hour rate and felt pretty lucky. Next week, I had about 25 hours of $70 an hour work. I felt lucky, but I suspected something was off. The third week, I mentally tracked all the tasks I did that were considered $70 an hour,

and was that about 10 hours for the week? Nope, another 22 hours at $70 an hour. I definitely knew something was off at that point, but I kept my mouth shut. Another guy mentioned something about his paycheck getting bigger, and we suddenly agreed it was better to not say anything. This went on for months. At a certain point, the office people asked a couple of questions about how we were clocking into jobs,

but didn't ever say anything about our hours. IT was at our computer a couple times during the time frame, and after 45 months, they must have fixed the error. I'm not sure how much extra money I ended up with, but I knew it was a lot more than I should have. I kept all the extra in savings in case they came back and said they'd overpaid me and needed the money back. COVID hit, which slowed really bad, and they laid most of our department off. I ended up getting a job with another shop when work picked up back up.

Do I feel guilty? Not really. This company was super shady in a lot of ways and never treated employees well. Should I have said something? I don't know. Maybe. My husband cheated on me at the bachelor party. Am I wrong?

12 years ago we got married. I don't want to know all the details of his bachelor party, like already know strippers were going to be all over him. But in short, I know his bachelor's was the typical. He went to his strip club, he got very drunk, and they rented a bunch of hotels to sleep over the bar across the street. So that's all I really knew. But he never told me that he slept with his mail-ordered slut.

His friends hired two escorts for my husband to choose from. He chose the better-looking one. We reunited with one of his friends in a conversation that came up. My husband looked unhinged while a friend was telling the story. I stopped and said, You did what? I kept yelling and encouraging at him, and he was so confused why I was acting ghetto on him.

I told him he cheated on me, but he got mad at me for such an accusation. He said this is literally what bachelor parties are for. You are stuck sleeping with only one woman for the rest of your life, so you have to get it out and bang a really hot one on the bachelor party. I was like, huh? I literally never heard of this, but I'm also not accustomed to American tradition, so I don't know if this is actually true. But from the movies, it sometimes looks like he is telling the truth.

It sounds crazy enough, though. For my Bachelorette party, I just got an expensive hotel room with all my girlfriends. We got really drunk and enjoyed ourselves. I just feel so betrayed, but it was also more than a decade ago, and we have three children now, happy marriage and a life. This bothers me so much that he did this before we get married. but it was such a long time ago, and next time I'll never say a man is allowed to go to a bachelor party's bachelor party is to cheat on your soon-to-be wife. I'm just so shocked this is normal

in Western wedding traditions. I catfish married men. Throwaway account. A little background to what started all of this. I started dating this guy two years ago. We were dating for a month before I decided to do deep dive. I found out he was married and his wife was seven months pregnant. I ghosted him and sent all our messages to his wife. They ended up staying together, but six months later, I still saw he was active on dating app slash Reddit. I sent those to her, and she filed for divorce him then. So for the past two years, I've trolled the adultery slash cake eaters slash r-for-R forums on here looking for some of the vilest posts to see if I can connect with the men in in hopes of outing them. Most of the stories these men posts are either fake or played up to make

them look like they are being successful. It's pathetic, to be honest, but once I have enough information and tell them the truth about what I'm going to do, the begging starts. The more they beg and plead for me not to ruin their lives, the funnier it is to me. All of them have offered to pay me not to send info to their wives. One guy offered me $10,000. I was shocked at how far they were willing to not get caught. You'd also think that this process would take time, but it's usually only a couple of days, with some pictures exchanged, and they're eaten out of my hand. The longest I took on one guy was two weeks. It was being extra cautious because surprise, this was not his first time cheating.

My total count so far as 24 men. The wives' reactions have been a mixed bag. Some decide to stay and work it out, and a couple ended up just blocking me. Out of the total, eight of those women were pregnant. I currently have three wives sitting on the information I sent them that they are planning to use in their divorces. I'm posting now as an end of an era, as I'm getting into a serious relationship. and cannot continue. Honestly, if you're moderately attractive, you can also do this. Cheaters, you are safe for now. But one day, you will come across someone like me. Edit, it felt good to

finally get this off my chest. I've not been able to talk to a single soul about this. I'm going to delete this account. And I've already deleted my catfish account. I think my boyfriend would be a little sketch that I put this scary amount of time into this. I'm married for money. I grew up poor. I lived in a with my mom most of my life. I never got a chance. My mom even purposely held me back from school just so she could receive child support from my bio father longer. In my late teens, I started working a minimum wage job where I met my now husband. I was initially attracted to him because he's wealthy, but my husband is nine years older than me. I even stole money from him when we were just dating because I never thought he would see anything with me long term. He still doesn't know I've stolen

money from him. I didn't love him when I married him. The truth is, is I did fall in love with him slowly after we got married. I knew the only way I could have a better life was using him as a ticket to finally live out of my means. My husband is a seven-figure earner. I used him to gain a college education. He put me through school. I have my BA and communication studies. I don't have any debt. I've traveled a bit too. I learned I don't like traveling, though. Dealing with language barriers is just a lot. It makes the trip extremely stressful. and after you see so many places it's just another museum, statue, a river,

just in a different location. I did work after I got my degree. I worked in marketing and I didn't like it. I dabbled in other types of work. But I didn't want to work anymore and my husband said I'll never have to work again if I don't want to and I love that. I used to feel bad because I don't have any ambition

or work drive, but honestly nobody in this world would want to work a boring 9 to 5 job if they didn't have to either so I don't feel bad anymore. My husband did cheat on me a couple of times throughout our marriage, but I don't care. I'm staying because I need to survive. I really don't care for love. Love doesn't pay for your bills or your lifestyle. I grew up in poverty, and I'm never going back to that. I retired from working in my 20s, and I don't regret it. I do

have children, and I love them so much. I also reconciled with my mother, and I bought her own place near my house. I knocked a homeless guy unconscious because he tried to take my latte. Nobody will ever know but me. I started a new job just over a year ago. I work seven to three most days and I don't own a car so I usually walk from my apartment to my place of work. The walk to work is mostly on main streets, but there is one alleyway that I take to my to make my walk five minutes shorter. Next to this alley is a coffee shop. My city has a noticeable homeless population and there are some people who hang out along the streets asking for food, money, etc. They are mostly harmless. They don't get in people's way or harass anyone, as far as I know. But there is one guy, we'll call him Bob, for simplicity,

who hangs out outside of the coffee shop most days, waiting for someone to buy him a coffee. For years, I've been in the habit of treating myself to an ice latte every Friday. So, on my first Friday on the job, I naively bought this man a coffee when he asked me to, not realizing the big mistake I made. I bought him an 8-ounce hot black coffee, the cheapest item on the menu, and myself, my usual 20-ounce latte. When I exited the coffee shop, before I could hand Bob his drink, he snatched my drink and walked off before I could blink. From that day on, every time I passed the coffee shop, Bob would cat call me and yell at me to buy my coffee. Occasionally, he would even follow me down the alley and tried to take my belongings. I felt very threatened because that early

in the morning, there weren't many people around there on the street, which I think is why he did it. When I passed that place in the evening, he usually didn't say anything as more people were around. Usually, Bob was completely harmless, but he followed me down the alley more than a few times, occasionally trying to take my belongings or my latte. About a month after I started my new job, I bought my latte and walked down the alley. Bob followed me down the alley, only this time he managed to get really close to me, and reached out to snatch the latte from my hand. Before I could think, my other hand hit his jaw.

The thing is, I'm a pretty big girl, 5-11 and 155 pounds. I run and lift weights, so I'm athletic too. I've never hit someone outside a classroom setting, but I have some martial arts experience, so I know the knockout points and can throw a good punch. I once knocked out a strong 280-pound man on accident during a class, so it was no surprise that this guy went out cold, hitting the side of a building on his way down. I think I saw blood on his face, but I'm not sure because I kept walking.

Nobody saw. There were no windows facing the alley and we were far from the main roads. Since it was just past 6 a.m., not many people were out, even on the main roads. My actions that day were rash, and I am in no way suggesting anyone do something similar because you never know who is watching. That said, I haven't seen this guy anywhere near the coffee shop. I highly doubt that I killed him, but I think I scared him off. I'm not sure how crime investigation stuff works, but it's been a year and I've heard nothing. As far as the world knows, I am innocent, and I plan on taking the secret with me to the grave. Update.

After reading some comments, I want to respond to some common threads. One, since the incident, I have stopped taking the shortcut to work and instead take the main roads. An extra five minutes isn't worth getting robbed, L.O.L. There's usually at least somebody on those roads who will see if someone tries anything, and the buildings all have windows. I've also invested in pepper gel, since it's better for two. temporarily disabling an assailant rather than permanently injuring them. In general, this incident has made me a lot more cautious and aware of my surroundings. So far, an incident like this

has not happened again. Two, a bunch of people are saying this post is fake because there's no way someone as small as me can knock out a 280-pound man. Have you all never seen a 5-11, 155-pound woman? I would attach a photo of myself, if I could, that would defeat the whole point of anonymity, but if you want a reference for what I look like, I have a similar body to Katie Ledecki. We are almost the same height and weight and she is not small. I can bench my body weight and deadlift more than double my body weight. Also, if you know anything about pressure point theory, you know that no amount of muscle or size will protect someone if you hit certain points straight on.

When I knocked out the 280-pound man, he was standing perfectly still, right in front of me. I was being directed where to hit by my instructor, and I put too much power behind it and knocked him out. It's hard to hit the points correctly in real time unless you have lots of experience. I have about two and a half years of experience, but Bob was a lot more frail than that guy, so he was easier to knock out, even if I didn't hit the point on his jaw perfectly. And all right, guys, I've read a lot of comments on this post, and a lot of people are saying she's innocent, and I would have to agree with her, because, I mean, it's not smart for her to walk down an alleyway at 6 in the morning. a lot of bad stuff could happen, but this guy, this homeless guy, was getting way too close.

He was, like she said multiple times, trying to take her belongings, and that's just not okay. And I think it's safe to say that him or her punching him in this scenario is okay. And I wouldn't suggest doing it. I wouldn't, it's not okay that she did it, but it's better than the alternative of her getting hurt, robbed, or stolen from again. so I think in this certain scenario, it's not her fault and it's justified, and it's a decent confession to not tell anyone because you would probably go to jail for assault, but interesting confession. Marrying for money sucks, and I do not recommend it. I married a 40-year-old when I was 19, started dating when I was 17. Yes, it was gross, but that's what happened. The only reason

he married me is because I was hot. The only reason I married him is because he had money. I actually do have other redeeming characteristics, but he married me because I was hot. I know this. Everyone knows this. It doesn't feel great, but I can deal with it. We've been married 20 years, four kids, so we are stable, and we have lots in common at this point, and we do love each other. But, if I could go back and slap myself, I would. When nobody tells you, or they try and you don't listen, you're a dumb-ass teenager, is that marrying like this means he will fucking owe him for everything, every goddamn day, not just in the bedroom, but in every other matter in your life. The stuff you never imagine someone else trying to decide for you, and you don't just owe him

for the money. It's a lot heavier than that. He'll never say it out loud, but you'll know the deal. Fundamentally unequal. He'll pull rank at the most random times, and it'll make you feel like you're falling through their floor. I don't hate my life or anything. I accept that I made this bed and I have to lie in it, but I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else. My oldest daughter is two years younger than I was when I met my husband, and I can't imagine. And all right, this one doesn't have a lot to input on,

but I think it's good advice for any of you guys out there and you're considering marrying young. This person wouldn't recommend it. I think that's a good set of rules, so who knew? Snook can teach you some life lessons, and that's what you subscribe to this channel for. But anyways, on to the next one. Having a family is so incredibly overwhelming and exhausting, highly overrated. I am so deep into and sick of my lifestyle as a mom and a wife. I wish I could just quit. I have severe and untreated ADHD, so that probably makes everything so much more extremely difficult and complicated, but being motherly is no different. Just thinking about cooking every day for the rest of my life literally makes me feel S word. I know it may sound extreme, but I cannot imagine doing this

for much longer. I feel trapped. I wish I would have stayed true to myself and kept my promise to be the weird lonely animal lady. I know it was my decision, but I resent my husband for that sometimes, and I feel like I'm ready to give up. Update. Thank you so much for all the replies this post has received. I did not expect this many replies good or bad. I'm thankful for you all. I really wish I could just chat with every single one of you for you to share more. I'm aware that this issue is entirely my mental health, not my family. For all you are telling me I should do my family a favor and just leave or abandon them.

No, I won't. It is not the right thing to do, and I struggle with regret enough now. Also, I don't know why some people assume I hate my children. I love them more than I have ever loved anything and would do anything to make their life better. I literally want to kay myself because I believe they will be better. off without me. I make supernatural efforts every day to make sure they are clean, fed, cozy, happy, and comfortable even if I'm dying inside. This probably should be a whole different post, and I will post about it all in the future, but I do have significant lifelong trauma that I

recognize I must address before my name of thought to win. I always found the thought of S word to be comforting, but I now have little humans who depend on me, so it really is not an option anymore. I was able to get an urgent appointment, and I'm really excited to start my healing journey. Thank you all again. And all right, thank God for that update. Or else that would be a very depressing post, but I think this person is on the upward trend, hopefully. But in my opinion, I don't, I think she has a lot of issues going on,

just from what I've read in that post and some of the comments. But I think just the obvious thing to do is go get some therapy, talk to someone about this feelings. Because like she said, she felt a lot better after seeing all the comments, because it makes you feel a lot better sometimes just to talk to somebody about how you're feeling, but if you keep that all bottled up, it probably sucks. Also, in the beginning, she mentioned ADHD. So I think it would be a big help if she has severe ADHD to go get that medicated or talk to someone about that, because that could also lead to feelings of everything she listed. So I think she should go get some ADHD medications.

It doesn't have to be medications, but just talk to somebody about it and talk to a therapist. I think she came out on the upper trend and thoughts and prayers to her. I went to the doctor today and paid with cash. I'm pregnant. I'm 17 and pregnant. I don't know who the dad is. I went to a party a few weeks ago, eight to be exact. My best friend begged me to go with her, saying that I was being too stuck up.

I've never been to a party before, mainly focusing on my clubs and work. And her words struck a court with me, so I went. We were dancing together, drinking alcohol. I'm used to like drinking since my parents introduced me and my siblings to it around 16 to 17 depending on how outgoing their kid is. It's a safety precaution of, hey, this is what it's going to feel like. Don't go bummling around the streets like this. Not to say that they let us drink every day.

The most we get is a light buzz under their council, and we only get that on special occasions. That might have been unnecessary info, but I'm a mess right now. And the only reason I have any grammar is because I'm typing this on my phone. Anyway, I started getting drunker and drunker, and my friend peeled away from me at one point, and this guy slid up to me. I can't remember what we talked about, but he was kind of cute. I know that I danced with him at one point. The rest of it's a fucking blur, and I can't remember anything else.

I woke up naked with him in the guest room, and that's about it. My best friend told me later that I told her that I found a hot guy and to not look for me or some shit like that. When I spoke to him, he said, yeah, we had sex. asked if we used a condom and he said he thinks we did. He ends up dropping the bomb that he has a girlfriend and to not mention this to her. I'm hung over and I'm so confused and I just had sex with someone for the third time in my life and I can't remember shit. So I just left after I got my clothes back on. I missed my period.

It felt different. It's hard to explain, but I felt so weird. No morning sickness or anything that the articles say, but just an awkward feeling. I thought it was just stressed from work or maybe getting sick. My periods are normally very punctual. They start early in the month and end three days in. I did not get my period for eight fucking weeks and thought it was stress. I'm such a fucking idiot.

Like how did I not see any signs or some shit? Then I thought about it all. I decided that I didn't want to use store-bought tests because the ones in the store around where I live aren't very good. I've heard a lot of people buying them and the tests saying they're pregnant when they're actually not. So today I went to the doctor and didn't use any insurance so that my parents didn't get any notifications or some shit. I don't know how that works, but I didn't want to take any chances. I explained to him everything, and he told me that they test me. Surprise, surprise, I've got a baby in my uterus. What the

fuck am I supposed to do? I'm sitting in my fucking car and I was scrolling on Reddit because I'm chronically online and saw the confession board and I just needed to tell someone, anyone. So I went this account and here I am. I don't know if it makes sense anymore because nothing does. I'm pregnant and I'm 17, and I don't even know the guy's name, but I'm pregnant with this fucking kid, and he has a girlfriend, apparently, and I'm pissed off that my friend let me go somewhere with a guy, and I'm so fucking angry that I can't remember anything. If anyone has advice or anything, I'm going to be in my car for a little while longer. I don't think I'm going to A, mainly because I know that if my parents get pissed off,

they'll still support their grandchild no matter what, and it isn't the baby's fault that their mommy is such as dumbass when she gets blackout drunk, apparently. Sorry for this being so long. I just don't know anything anymore. Edit. I've been reading and commenting and yeah, you guys are really fucking awesome, genuinely. This helps a lot with working out my thoughts.

To those who's saying to a word, I completely understand that, but I don't think I want to. About school, I'm more than willing to graduate early. I have enough credits. My friend's last shows of life overall was shitty. The friend I told you about the party was shit, was pretty much my only person I talked to.

Adoption-wise, I think I'll look into that. I think I'm being wait-thes. too optimistic about the idea of taking care of a kid. I just don't know. I feel like sobbing, but I feel like doing nothing at all. I didn't get tested for anything transmitted, but now that you guys brought that up, I'll definitely schedule something because holy shit, I didn't even think about that. I have to go home. If I stay out any longer, then they'll get worried, and I think I'll talk to my parents then. I'm sorry for bringing this to Reddit and shit, and I know I'm stupid about my choices and reasoning, but I just wanted to get all that shit off my chest. Thank you

guys again. I may or may not continue to reply. If not, then I'm driving back home. And all right, that's a very heavy post. And she stopped posting in the comments shortly after that, but a lot of people were commenting various different things. You know, the mix. Some people to say a word, some people to adoption, some people to just keep the kid. But that's a very heavy post. And I don't really know how to comment on that. But to be honest, as I was reading through a few of these, I think I'll keep this confession series going on a little longer because it's very relatable for, I think, a lot of people. And it's a lot of real life accounts. And if this is relatable to any of you, it'll just make sure that you'll just make you

know that you're not alone and stuff like that. So I think I'll keep this confession series going because a lot of this can be more relatable and just for any of you guys out there watching this. You're not alone. And yeah. I lied to get my current job and it pays really well. I, 38F, lied on my resume to land a job I wasn't qualified for. The initial interview went smoother than expected. My fabricated qualifications seemed to impress them. Before I knew it, I was advancing to the next round. The job offer came, and I accepted, despite this sinking feeling in my gut.

As I stepped into the role, reality hit me hard. I was drowning in tasks I had no idea how to handle. Panic set in as I struggled to keep up with the demands of the job. I sought help online, connecting with others in similar positions who generously shared their expertise. Day by day, I learned the ropes through trial and error. Slowly, I started to grasp the intricacies of the job. The feelings of being overshadowed began to fade as my confidence grew.

I persevered, determined to prove myself worthy of the position. Fifteen years have passed since that faithful decision, I am now a master at my job, a testament to resilience and hard work. The lie that got me in the door has transformed into a success story of my perseverance and growth. A part of me is very proud of what I've been able to accomplish, while the other side is disgusted with me for cutting corners. I've never told anyone besides my husband, and even told me he doesn't believe I really did that. Edit, I'm a senior fraud analyst now, started off in collections and insurance disputes. And okay, I think this person is completely fine.

It doesn't even need a confession, to be honest, because, sure, she lied. She cut corners. She got a job she wasn't qualified for. But at the same time, she learned how to do it. 15 years later, she's still doing that job. I think that is a testament for a lot of things. I think it's better to go in over your head than the opposite, because you can learn a lot going in over your head. I mean, I didn't start making YouTube videos because I knew how to make the best YouTube videos. I started off really bad and then slowly got better. I mean, it's a lot to get into, but I think you can do that for anything, and that's basically anything. So that's kind of a motivation story almost. And I don't think. it's necessary to be a confession because she didn't cause any harm to the company or anything

else along those lines she only built the company and obviously got promoted so good for her i often replaced my alcoholic drinks with water without telling the people i'm drinking with i am 25 female i go out pretty often whether it be with my friends husband or family in college i drank heavily every weekend my tolerance became pretty high and then i started dating a guy that would would drink way too much every night, so I started being the sober one so I could drive us home each night. Fast forward three to four years. I'm married to a different guy that drinks responsibly, and I still have replaced maybe 90% of my drinks with water, or just straight up didn't add alcohol to my drinks, but said I did to not get questions and to feel more included. The people I drink

with don't know this. Last night, my husband asked me to pour two shots of vodka, but I poured one and put water in my cup. We cheered and drank them. Then he wanted a mixed drink, so I made vodka sodas, except mine was just soda. Another time I was on my friend's boat, and they were all plastered. They were handing me white claw after white claw, and I would sip on it here and there, but when no one was looking, I'd pour mine into the water every so often, so it looked like I was drinking them. I don't really know why I do this, to the extent I do. I feel safe with the people around.

I just like being clear-minded. Drinking and feeling fuzzy is unsettling to me. When I go out, especially if it's loud inside the bar, I'll quietly order with the bar a diet Coke or Sprite, then tell people to the Jack and Coat or Vodka Sprite. I also don't want to be the girl that never lets loose and has a good time. I have my fun in college and I like to know I can get everyone home safe by the end of the night. Feels good to finally say something. Thanks for reading.

Edit for more details. I don't say I am having alcohol unless people ask. I don't brag around them saying I am not drinking when I'm not. If people assume I am, then great. If they ask, I just say it's something alcoholic. I also only do this for a couple of drinks, then actually just say I'm sobering up when I order a third or fourth, so people know I'm not getting hammered. The people I am around now don't drink a ton, but they do drink enough to need a ride every once in a while. The cost of a white claw when you buy them in bulk is like five bucks.

No, I don't feel bad for fake drinking three to four white claws and dumping them out. Whether I drink them or not, and then they spent money on them, or we did, usually cost of food sauce drinks is split when we have a riverboat party. Having 20-something people asking why you're not drinking is exhausting and annoying. This was one instance I just used as an example. Last thing. I will genuinely have a glass of wine or a mixed drink here and there. I'm not completely sober all the time. I just don't drink a lot.

That's all. And okay, another one of these that it's just kind of I want to throw in here. I think it's kind of crazy, at least in America. I'm not sure in Europe or other places in the world. why not drinking is kind of taboo almost. Like, not drinking within social settings is very taboo, and people will ask you about it, which I think is just kind of weird,

how kind of normalized drinking is. And so this kind of brought up a good point, so I like this confession, even though it shouldn't really be on the confession. I stood by and allowed my wife to almost kill our son. I was happy she did it. Okay, fair warning. This one is long as hell.

Apologies for that, but this is very hard for me, and I've been carrying it for a lot of years. On the advice of my therapist, I've written it all out to try to work out my feelings on it. He didn't advise me to submit it to Reddit, of course, but I have struggled with this for a long time, and I need to hear other people's opinion on it. I still really have no idea how I feel about it, even after all these years, but I will submit for judgment by the masses. I know I did wrong on some things, probably a lot of things.

I tried to do my best eye that I could. My son was very troubled. Very troubled. If you have seen the movie, we need to talk about Kevin. It will really help to understand what I'm talking about, because I swear to God, when I watched that film, I thought I was watching a documentary of my life. I felt like the writer must have had cameras hidden in my damn house.

That's how accurate it was. The only difference is that in the movie, the boy appears normal to his father and only reveals his true. nature to his mother. With my son, he didn't have that mask. His insane behavior was the same with everyone. From the day he was born, my son just came out wrong. He was bland, my wife and I tried to get pregnant, and were ecstatic when he was born. He was wanted and loved. We showered affection on him and really tried to give him a happy childhood. But from the day we brought him home from the hospital, he was miserable. He cried for 13 months straight. I'm not exaggerating.

months without a break. He cried until he had no voice left and kept crying. You could see his little face scrunched up and no sound coming out, totally hoarse. There were times he would literally be crying in his sleep. I've never seen or heard of any other kids able to do that. We brought him to doctors, specialists, tried changing his diet, held him, rocked him, toys, swaddling, music, mobiles, everything we could think of, nothing worked. 13 months of grading, grinding, no sleep, hell. Once he got over the crying stage, we thought we were out of the woods, but it quickly became clear that for some unknown reason,

he was just angry at being alive. I never saw that kid have a genuine, joyous smile once in the time I knew him. I saw him grin a vicious, horrible grin many times, making a perverse pleasure from causing pain or suffering or breaking a rule. But a smile from real pleasure at something nice? No, never, not once. He had no interest in anything positive. He was fueled by hate and everything he did was bent toward that.

As soon as he could walk, his mission in life was to destroy things. He would break or try to break anything that came in his range, smash it, chew it, throw it in the toilet, whatever he could. while he figured out how to get his diaper off and took great pleasure in shitting and pissing and pissing anywhere he could. After a while, he figured out he could hide it and started pissing and shitting in places we wouldn't find right away, grinding it into carpets, making it even more of a problem with it clean and making the house stink. When he got older, ages 9 to 15, he would piss and shit in our bed until we got a lock on our door and he wasn't able to get in

anymore. Then he'd just take a dump in the hallway in front of our room. That biological warfare started around a two and a half years old and he never grew out of it. I'll try to speed it up as I could literally go on for days about this stuff, but as he grew older, he became more and more unmanageable. He would bite, kick, scream, scratch, and spit at anyone trying to do anything with him. He was kicked out of school twice before he was nine, then let him back in and then kicked him out for good. He had to change schools. The next one put him in a special class that kept them away from the other students. We had to install a door and lock on the kitchen because he would steal knives and use them to gouge the walls slash furniture or chase people with them.

When he was 10, he stabbed me pretty good in the hip and ass. I still have the scars. As he grew older, he grew darker. He moved into setting things on fire and torturing local animals. There was a stray dog that hung around the park near my house. My son blinded it and one eye with a barbecue fork. He would dip cats' tails and gasoline and light them on fire. He became a violent, stinking, vicious beast that lived in our house. We couldn't do anything with him. I will take this opportunity to preempt the tsunami of messages. Yes, we had the kid in fucking therapy.

He saw a psychiatrist twice a week and had God knows how many different medications are prescribed to him over the years. Nothing worked. Therapy didn't work. Meds didn't work. Nothing fucking worked. He was a guy. like a poison cloud of hate and fury lashing now at anything in his reach. When my son was 16,

my wife got pregnant again. I can't tell you how different our reaction was. Instead of joy, we felt horror. This pregnancy had not been planned, and we really were at a loss of what to do. My son had been such an unending nightmare for 16 years. We couldn't take the idea of starting again from the beginning. We talked a lot about terminating, but A, access to A, was not as easy in those days as it is now. And B, my wife was very against it. We talked about many options. In the end, we decided that my wife would have the baby. And if it turned out evil, we would put it up for adoption. We knew we just couldn't do it again with another child like our son. We had a daughter. She was very normal. Suddenly, we saw what our lives should have been like the whole time. How things would

have been had our son not been himself. She laughed at things. She breastfed without biting. She didn't have teeth yet anyway. But you could tell. she was just trying to eat, not tear her mom's breast off. After four months, she was sleeping through the night. She was happy. She was normal. I can't describe the relief and happiness that we both felt. I don't have the words for it. This is where I believe I may have started really pulling back from my son. Up until that time, whatever mistakes I made, I had always tried my best to do my best for my son. I'm convinced of that. I tried to help him and love them and care for him. I really tried. But when my daughter was born, my wife and I both,

instinctively just turned toward her. She became our focus, not from malice, but just because she was so much easier. She was so happy and sweet. Every moment we were with her was just like magic. I understand this was wrong, but we honestly couldn't help it. I don't have a better explanation than that. My son hadn't given a shit about my wife being pregnant. I honestly don't know if he really understood it. But when we brought our daughter home, he started acting out even more. I didn't think it was possible. but he took it up another notch. At this time he was 17, we were having blowout screaming matches daily. Usually after we fought, he would storm out of the house and disappear for hours at a time,

or come back the next morning. It was a relief. I started to actually look forward to our fights because it would get him away from us for a while. After the birth of our daughter, my relationship with my son was almost entirely gone. Our only real interactions were screaming at each other. My wife was even worse with him. She just had nothing left. By that time, if our son even came into the same room as her, she would just stop whatever

she was doing and start screaming, get the fuck away for me, get away, get the fuck out until he left. He started spending more and more time out of the house, which was a blessing for us. I have no idea what he got up to and the world, but we were just happy it wasn't being inflicted on us. As a consequence of our son's behavior, we had invested heavily in locks around our house. All of the cheap, thin interior doors in our home had been replaced with, thick, dense wood doors that couldn't be kicked through, equipped with keyed locks that my wife and I carried keys to. I know it sounds extreme, but locks and heavy doors were the best way

we had found to create safe spaces from them. And again, before I am undated with messages, I was not locking my son in rooms like a prisoner. He had free reign of the house and could come and go as he pleased. My wife and I would lock ourselves in rooms to protect ourselves from him. If anything, we were the prisoners in our own home. On the day and, I had fought with my son in the morning and he had left the house in a rage. My wife and I were enjoying some peace and quiet in the kitchen while our daughter napped in our bedroom. And then my daughter began crying.

Any parent who has young children can tell you, you get used to your child's cries, and you can tell after a while what they need. They cry differently if they are hungry or need changing or are just restless and want to be held. Babies can communicate pretty well before they can speak. The cry was none of those things. this cry was terror. The second we heard it, my wife and I were both up out of our chairs and running to the room. The door was locked, of course, and it took a few seconds to get the right key to get it open. My son was in the room. We lived in a bungalow, and the bastard had climbed in the window to get her.

He was standing over the curcray with a stag knife in his hand. I have no idea where he got it. It wasn't one of ours. We controlled our knives very carefully and always kept them in locked drawers. I think he may have stolen it from one of our neighbor's houses. He had broken her skin twice already, once in the belly area and once on her arm. I could see blood running down. When I entered the room, he was dragging the back of the knife down her face, not cutting, almost tickling her with it, teasing her while she screamed. He looked up at us and smiled.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was already moving, running to put myself between them. I didn't think about it. I just moved instinctively. Even with that, my wife got there faster. It was like a movie on fast forward. She got to her son and bashed his hand away, knocking the knife across the room, and then shoved him with her whole body weight, so hard that he flew away from the crib and bounced off the wall. I picked up my daughter and held her while my wife screamed us. I could see her shaking, almost convulsing.

I can remember the smell of the room, the sound of my daughter's screaming and wailing. The look of my son's face as he stood there, just nothing. Blank, dead, there was nothing in his eyes. No emotion. He looked like an alien to me. I watched my wife take a step forward. I could have reached out and stopped her, but I didn't. She stepped forward again, very close to him.

I could have stopped her again, but I didn't. She waited, looking at him for maybe three to five seconds, without moving, and then she punched him in the face. Now, until this point, you may have been picturing my wife as a typical woman, small frame, dantey, delicate. This is not the case. My wife does have a small frame, but dainty and delicate she is not. Never has she been since I've known her. Since her early teams, my wife has been a boxer. MMA didn't exist back then, but karate and boxing were big in those days,

and my wife was a very talented amateur. She was about 130 pounds. She carried a lot of muscle, and she knew how to punch. I had 70 pounds on her back then, and I have no doubt that in a real fight between me and her, she could have and would have pounded me flat. Neither of us had ever laid a hand on her sudden anger before, but something broke in her that day.

and all the years of anger and pain and sorrow and frustration just came pouring out. When she hit him, his head snapped back, and blood started pouring out of his nose. He hardly reacted. He just looked at her with this shocked expression like he didn't know how to process what had just happened. She waited another second, and then she hit him again. I could have reached out and stopped her. I could have dragged her out of the room, taken her way, calmed her. I didn't.

I just stood there and watched him while she systematically started to pound him to a pulp. Every time he brought his hands to cover one part, she would blast him somewhere else. Body, head, body, head, over and over. He started screaming, crying out, yelling for her to stop. It's the most genuine reaction I'd ever seen him have to anything in his whole life. But she wasn't stopping. I watched her ramping up, hitting harder, faster, working him like a heavy bag. He tried to swing at her and she slipped him easily.

She was on autopilot, sinking down into her training. I stood there watching for a minute. Then I turned my back on them and took my daughter out of the room. I brought my daughter to the kitchen and gave her a bath in the sink. I found that he had cut her a third time on the sole of her foot. All the cuts were superficial. I cleaned her up and held her until she calmed. I put polysporin and band-aids on her cuts.

In our bedroom I could hear my son screaming, calling my wife horrible names, telling her he would cut her head off and ev her corpse. After a while, I didn't hear him saying anything anymore. didn't even hear him crying out. I assumed that he must have been knocked out, but I could still hear her beating him. That went on for a long time, long enough for my daughter to drift off to sleep in my arms. I just sat at the kitchen table waiting for her to finish. Finally, she came out and sat down across from me.

Her hands were swollen and red. Her face and arms were splattered with blood. Her chest was heaving. We just stared at each other without saying anything. After a while, I asked her, Is he dead? She looked back at me and answered. I fucking hope so.

I nodded. That was all there was to say about that. I understood how she felt perfectly. I felt the same. I didn't know what to do. So we just sat there waiting silently. Eventually my wife started crying and went to go take a shower. I just stayed where I was holding our daughter.

After a long while, I heard her moaning and sobbing coming from her room. It turned out that my son wasn't dead. I went in to see how bad it was and it was. It was pretty bad. I've never seen a more merciless beating laid out onto anyone before or since. He was lying on the floor, rolling around with blood leaking out of his face, lining a pool of vomit. His nose was squashed flat out across his face. Both of his eyes were completely swollen shut and starting to blacken already.

I could see that a couple of his fingers were bent out at weird angles and he had pissed his pants. I think he must have been missing teeth, but I couldn't see any on the floor and I couldn't see it inside his mouth. His lips were all puffed up and swollen. From talking to my wife about it later, I know now that she had systematically beaten every part of his body, focusing heavily on his legs. She told me she kicked him in the groin repeatedly until her legs got tired

and had kept beating his body long after he had passed out. When my wife came out of our shower, I still didn't know what to do about her son. I didn't know whether to call the police or an ambulance, take him to the hospital myself. I honestly didn't have any idea what to do. After a while, I realized that I simply didn't care what happened to him anymore, and we decided to just let him live or die on his own. There was an in-loss suit in the basement that we had never really used, and my wife, my daughter, and I just moved down there.

We simply seated the top floor of the house to my son and locked everything down, separated our lives entirely. There was plenty of food in the upstairs cabinets enough for a couple of weeks or more. He had a washroom and bedrooms to use. We had a washroom in the basement, a small kitchenette, and a separate end of the room. entrance so we could just stop going upstairs. We just decided we were done with him. I figured we let his food run out and see what happened next. Over the next week, we could hear moving around upstairs sometimes. I think he just spent most of his time lying in bed recovering. I went to work watching on high alert in case he attacked me in the driveway. But he never did. My wife stayed home with our

daughter. She was never out of our sight. One night we heard him going ballistic, smashing things, and banging. We didn't respond. He never tried to get down. downstairs or get near us though. I think he was afraid that if he got near us again, my wife got might finish the job on him. After three weeks down in the basement, we hadn't heard anything from up above for a few days, and I ventured upstairs to the main floor of the house. The place was demolished, and there was no side of my son. He was gone. It took months to repair the damage he had done and get the main floor back to normal again. There was food and shit smeared all over the walls and broken glass on the floor, big holes in the dry wall. He had ripped

the place apart. He tore up the linium in a corner of the kitchen and emptied an entire foam fire extinguisher into the living room. I feel thankful that he didn't burn the house down with us in it. I'm honestly not sure why he didn't. The kid wasn't shy about lighting things on fire. After that, I lived in fear every day that he would come back, that he would ambush us out of the blue and try to kill us. We moved to house out about three years later and I finally stopped being afraid that he would show up again, as now we had no idea where we were. I finally felt safe from him. All this happened a long time ago.

My son was born in the spring of 1971. My daughter was born in 88. I'm an old man now. I'll be 70 this year, and my wife passed from cancer in 2016. My daughter is 31 now. I moved in with her and her husband after my wife passed. I've got two granddaughters, and they are the joy of my life. I see a therapist a couple times a month to talk about this.

I don't know where my son is. The last time I saw him was when he was lying on the floor of a bedroom. bleeding and smashed. I haven't heard from him since he left. More than 30 years now. I don't want to. I carry a lot of guilt from that time and a lot of conflicted emotions. I didn't beat him myself, but I allowed him to be beaten. And I thought he deserved it. I was happy it happened. I didn't try to kill him, but I would have been happy if he died. I will say that I do hope he was able to overcome his demons and go live a normal life somewhere. If he wasn't able to do that, if he stayed the way he was, then I truly do hope someone out there killed him.

When I knew him, he was a rabbit dog. In whichever way it went, I just hope he isn't still out there hurting anyone else. I'm dying, but haven't told anyone. I was diagnosed with cancer a little over two weeks ago, after a regular checkup. Turns out I have a tumor on my colon that has spread to other areas, liver and lung so far, and will require extensive chemo and surgery for any chance to live longer than eight months.

months. I'm not having any treatment, and I haven't told my wife because she'll only pressure me to get the treatment, which results in months of pain and suffering for a relatively small chance. Instead, I'm making sure our last few months together are filled with only happy memories. I'm starting to work later and finishing earlier in the day, to make her breakfast in bed and take her on dates in the evenings. My landlord I rent, my workshop from, has agreed to let me run my business rent-free for the next six months, which means significantly less financial stress, and I can save a lot more. So she has something to carry her over afterwards. I hope she'll forgive me for taking this path. I once pushed an elderly lady down the stairs because she

noticed me and my friends do something bad. So when I was young and stupid, me and my two friends went out every day to do dumb stuff, such as knock and run and trespassing, breaking stuff that wasn't ours, disturbing the peace, etc. It was December 2017 when me and my friends went out to the local neighborhood to run around different flats and knock on people's doors or do some other shit that basically made people go mad. And one of my friends decided to start throwing bricks at a street lamp for fun. We thought it's all good because it was dark and there was no one on the street. After he was done, we went to get something to drink and got into a flat to get warmer because it was a snowy winter. Ten minutes in, we noticed a lady two floors above us

that was speaking to someone on the phone about some thugs running around and breaking stuff. We got scared that she might have noticed us and maybe even recorded the whole action. We went upstairs to make sure that she wasn't talking about us, but turned out she was on the phone with her son when she saw us come up and quickly cut our way back down off speaking to her son come on come on quicker they're here we were already shooting ourselves and had no idea what to do the lady was about 60 to 70 years old so we didn't want to do anything that could hurt her but before any other thoughts i rammed her and she fell down a couple stairs shouting at us we ran straight down and out of the building when we started running through the flat i

looked back to see if she was okay. She looked fine at me, so we escaped. I don't know where she is today, and I hope she's alive and well. I regret it because it must have hurt her. I'm sorry, lady. I learned from my mistakes and got some better friends now. I'm now almost 18 years old and surrounded by better people and know how to do good, and I'm a changed person, but I won't forgive myself for hurting an elder. And now let's get into some comments, and these comments are not supportive of the guy at all, which totally makes sense, but let's get into him. You know, at that age, a small injury could spiral into something life-destroying, and I totally agree. Someone else says, yep, my grandma fell down a few stairs, had to be put under for hip surgery.

The anesthesia really kicks her dementia into overdrive and was never the same after being put under. Older women in general are prone to a lot of damage from a fall due to a lower bone density post-menopause. someone else says once an elderly person breaks their hip the clock starts running it's sad but true someone else replies that saying that's what happened to my grandma she broke her hip and pelvis took a sharp decline and then died yeah i mean that's a lot of the comments a lot of people are saying like they know uh an older person that this exact not this exact scenario happened but they fell and they're never really the same because i mean old people are very very fragile someone else says ah fuck she's probably so scared and that outcome was exactly what she was scared of

that made me sad and i just have to agree i mean i can't imagine that being my mom or my grandma in some asshole pushes him over i mean i am calling the opian asshole hopefully the opi has learned from his mistakes and not done anything similar to that since but um yeah very sad story very i mean honestly horrifying story because who knows what happened to that older lady 60 to 70 years old is not young at all in a bad fall especially down a few stairs he said that could be life ruining i mean literally life ruining um someone else says my grandma dropped a can on her foot and broke her foot that was the beginning of the end for her by the time she recovered from the broken foot she'd lost a lot of independence and her mind started to go someone else says

the same habit of my grandma. But in her case, she broke her hip. She obviously could have walked her in her recovery. And by the time the hip healed, she couldn't stand up anymore due to such a long time resting. That was also her beginning of the end. But for all of this, she was totally independent.

It's honestly scary how fast your quality of life and lifespan can change when you pass a certain age. And yeah, this is just reading all these comments has kind of scared me because who knows what happened to the person the O.P. pushed over. I mean, it literally could have ruined her life by becoming injured. And it also leads the lady to not be trusting of any strangers. Not only does it physically hurt her, but I can't even imagine the mental stress she has to go through. She probably never wanted to go outside anymore because she's like, I mean, who knows? Some asshole could go

push me over. You know, I feel so bad for the lady the O.P. pushed over. Hopefully the O.P. feels bad. Hopefully the OPE has, you know, move forward from this and, you know, truly learned and feels regretful because, yeah, that was just a really rough confession to read because who knows what happened to that lady. I just hope she's doing better now. I sold drugs at university to get by and ruined my life. Before I started at university, the main thing highlighted by my parents and everyone else was the financial side. The loan I was granted for university, wasn't going to be anywhere near enough to cover my expenses and my rent, but I lied to my parents to keep them from stressing that I get a job and sort it out myself. I tried finding a job

online over the summer before moving to uni in a city an hour away, but four months and no luck. I then went to a festival at the end of the summer and took my friend's advice on selling a little bit of Zaza and a few other things to people in there to start a little saving to take with me. All I was worried about was having to rely on my parents when they already supported my sister and are going through a very tough time financially. I made quite a bit, and this made me think I should do it more to other students

to help me get by, as a lot of people I knew did it and paid off a lot while in uni. So I moved away, started selling, and life was good. I always made sure people were safe. No one ever had any issues at all, so I was good. My first year at university was a success, and I was able to help my parents out too with some money and not having to ask them for anything. As the eldest son, it's my job to provide, not take, and I didn't care how I was doing it.

I wasn't hurting anyone, and it wasn't bothering anyone. The second year went well. I made enough to help my friend who was also struggling and was able to do a lot more for my family with my life then. I was ever able to do before, and I was happy. The summer came around and I was sick of it now. I hated always looking over my shoulder. That was the only thing that got to me. I knew I wasn't harming anyone or causing an issue,

so I saw no problem besides the stress and the anxiety gave me, so I decided to quit after one last time. Over the course of the last two years, I had made a lot of friends and connections through selling, but not about drugs, but more towards creative ideas and other people like myself, which in the end helped me realize what I wanted to do in my life, and this summer was going to be the end of this.

And I was finally going to get my shit together and do what I felt was right. So I went to this festival. I'm enjoying myself, and on the second day I was caught by security through someone snitching on me. I was arrested at the festival, totally strip searched, and then taken to a custody center an hour away with no phone, money, or ID. As they took it all away from me and kept it as evidence. After spending 28 hours in a cell with nothing but one tuna sandwich given to me, I was then given a solicitor and interviewed.

From that moment, I knew my life was over. I was interviewed and made clear of what was going to happen, and I had lost everything from this, when I was so close to leaving it all behind. I'm currently under investigation and free without bail, but I've been told I'm looking at six to eight years, all for this stupid mistake I should have never done. I was caught with an ounce of,

booger sugar, an ounce of Zaza, 150 pills, an ounce of K, and one ounce of another substance, all bagged up to sell with a cash amount of just shy of three grand in my phone with evidence. I'm not proud of any of this. I just say it all to give you an idea of what I had. Since then, my life has been ruined. Unable to go back to university because I have no idea when I'll be called to court so my life is in literal limbo. My friends are hurt, but it's shown me who my real friends are, especially in a time of need, but most of all my family are hurt more than anything. No one besides my mom, dad and sister and my family, no, and we intend to keep it a secret from the rest of our family, as we don't want to hurt them to, and this kills me.

Knowing I'll be gone for so long and my family will change their opinion on me from the eldest son and pride of the whole family to a failure drug dealer who's ruined his life. I would do or give anything to go back to the beginning of this year and change all of this, to sort my life out early and avoid any of this. Sadly, it's not that easy, and now I have to do my time for my mistakes. I just wish it could all be so different. I hope if you're reading this, it changes your mind from doing any of this.

I thought I was never going to get caught, but one way or another, it takes one second for your whole life to be turned upside down. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, I don't think you can say no one got hurt when you're dealing booger sugar. Drugs don't have a clean supply chain and I'm pretty sure some people got hurt. That said, that's a shitty sentence for someone down the food chain. And then someone replied to this saying, with the amount on him, he's exactly the person they're looking to catch.

He's not some guy just selling to his friends. Someone else replies to that saying, I was going to say exactly this. If it was just Zaza, all right, maybe you're not hurting anyone. But that's a shit ton of drugs. Even if other people brought more, O.P. still brought in way too much to fall under the not hurting anybody category. Those are some hard drugs, and I very much doubt that O.P. can guarantee the safety of those to whom he distributes.

I had a friend die from H-laced with fentanyl. even if opi source is good there's always a chance someone fucks up and opi ends up responsible for the deaths of others and uh yeah i mean i i just i couldn't help but feel for the opi at the end i mean yes he totally could have hurt somebody like the comments outlined but i mean you can just tell how remorseful he is and just how deeply he regrets it saying like i never thought i was going to get caught and um i wish i could just go back i mean it you can just hear the regrets in the yeah just remorse in his like voice or just his text and this was posted seven years ago so when he posted this he said he's looking to six to eight years so who knows maybe opi will come back to this

account sometime within the next year or so and say hey i just did six to eight years in prison um you know Yeah, that's crazy. Opies' life changed so much from when he first posted this, and I just have to assume he's been in prison this entire time, which is crazy. But that'd be very interesting if we got an update from the OP. And, yeah, I just hope the O.P. is all right. But that's a pretty crazy story, especially before sentencing. I mean, I can't imagine the anxiety he felt. I mean, he's like, I'm just stuck in a limbo.

I'm not in school anymore. And I just don't know when I'm going to be called to court. and boom, I'm in jail. And yeah, that's just a crazy confession. On to the next one. I gave my friend a fatal dose of age, and it still haunts me. I did time in jail. I went to therapy, and I saw forgiveness from her family.

I worked on myself. I went to rehab. I'm now six years sober. I warned the youth about the dangers of drugs, but I still remember that night vividly. Her birthday is coming up, and that's when the guilt intensifies. I've thought about Sward before.

I took a life and I was a worthless piece of shit, so I deserve to die. I know it didn't cause her addiction. It's possible she would have OD'd without my help, but it doesn't matter because in this reality, I was the one who did it, and I will never not feel guilty about it. And damn, that was a short, heavy confession.

That's all that was written from. the op and after going to the opes account the opes account was banned so we don't know what happened to the opi i hope the opi's doing better now but there's no way to know and i just saw one of the top comments that's good for everyone listening if you're ever in a situation and the comment reads as follows just a tip for those who might be in the situation in the future a few states in the u.s have a a law that protects you and anybody trying to save someone who just OD'd, even if he took the drugs as well. You can be Hezekite and still be protected by the law if you took the initiative to save their life. And I think that is a great PSA for everyone watching. So if you are ever in a

situation, a horrible situation like the opi described, you don't need to be worried about getting in trouble by the law because, I mean, number one, you just shouldn't be worried about that anyways. It's more worth it to save a human life, but you will be, you know, exempt from the law if you save someone. And yeah, that's just a heavy confession. And I hope that I'll be doing better now, but we haven't heard anything in a long, long time. And I don't know how we would. So that's just a crazy, dark and, yeah, sad confession. On to the next one.

I kicked a hitchhiker out of my car in the middle of the desert. About eight months ago, I was driving alone on a trip to visit my parents. Most of this drive goes through a desolate desert with barely any vegetation. Approximately an hour into the drive I saw a 20 to 30 year old with shorts, t-shirt, backpack, and a water bottle giving me the thumbs up on the side of the road. Considering the road is less used nowadays, I decided to help him out because it didn't seem like you would see anyone else that day. At first, he seemed quite normal at first.

But after we introduced each other and had a couple conversations, he started to act strangely. He would occasionally flick his head twice and make a face who would continue with the conversation like nothing happened. About 30 minutes after driving him, he started talking politics and was very adamant on his way of viewing things being correct. I wasn't afraid of sharing my own thoughts and opinions, so I did as respectfully as I could. Without warning, he cut me off mid-sentence and screamed at the top of his lungs. I was shocked and really didn't know what to do. Looking back, he was obviously on drugs. He pushed me past the point of comfort in my own vehicle at that point, so I pulled over and ordered him to get out of my car.

He took his stuff, and once outside, I zoomed away, leaving him at least 30 kilometers away from the nearest town. Later, when I arrived at my parents' house, I looked over to the passenger side door, and he left his water bottle. I assume he was fine, but who knows? Maybe I killed some druggie because I didn't look to my right for a couple hours. I've spent $250,000 to $350,000 on drugs and gambling. I used to make a lot of money in my early 20s as a manager of a body shop grossing $4 to $10 million a year in profit. My boss was an opioid addict and got me into taking them from long hours in pain. Next thing you know, it's a year later and I'm hooked.

The next four years was us snorting and smoking all day, which was about $250 to $500 a day. That's not including any gambling or any other drugs we use like booger sugar, pills, weed, psych, etc. I'd bring home $2 to $4,000 a week depending on commission, and then spend half of it at the casino and the other half up my nose. It ended up with me, Odeen. I flatlined twice. had 52 minutes of chest compressions performed to keep me alive while they narcan me three times up my nose and then threw my intubation tube at the hospital. I spent a week in a coma, two more in the ICU, one more in recovery, and then a month after that learning to walk again. They even flew

a retow-prone bed in for me alone to get brain activity going the first 24 hours. The real confession is what else we did during those four or five years. We paid off a half dozen adjusters to inflate claims slash supplements. I mean thousands of dollars each time. A total of a half million dollars I know of was scammed money. We would take a hail car that had medium damage and use tools to create more dense for more money and fix them before the customer saw and somehow never got caught.

I've been clean five years and started a family. I'm doing wonderful. My boss just died last week of an OD. I haven't seen or spoke to him since. I quit when I decided to get sober after my OD, but hearing about his death brought a lot up. Honestly, it got much darker and illegal than that, but I'm wary of posting those details online ever.

And then he makes an edit saying, about 12 hours later, this post has garnered more traffic than I expected by a long shot. I wrote this because my boss died, and I found out through the grapevine. I haven't worked or spoken to him in five years, but it still brings up a lot. The last five years, my life has been 110% different. I work now in the low-volted industry. I don't make a fraction of the money I used to, but I have the greatest family in the world.

I'm sober and much happier. 90% of the comments were beyond positive, which was surprising, considering I figured all would be shitty about the fraud and prospects of much darker days than that. But thank you guys. And to those struggling with addiction, there is hope. I'd given up to my poison and decided that was going to have to do for the rest of my life, but I was wrong. I couldn't even move out of bed without age. What I recommended is to do whatever is necessary for sobriety.

Suboxone, do it. Crisis lines call them. Rehab if you can afford it, go. But worst case, they have psychiatric. and drug addiction places strictly in the medical field that can help speed up withdrawals through drugs and get you out faster and back to life. But above all, have someone to keep you accountable. You cannot do it alone. You need a system like NA or someone to help guide you during such a drastic change to life. But I went from Scum of the Earth to Dad of the Year. I work 60 hours a week

to make sure my kids and fiancé are cared for and loved beyond belief. Anything you all have wanted to do is possible. Best wishes and best of luck to you all. And I'm just glad the OPE's doing better now. It's a crazy story. Some people had some jokes in the comments saying he's the the wolf of Body Shop Street or the Wolf of Wall Street or Carr Street, which is kind of a funny reference. But everyone is just like, wow. And I wonder what the guy did that's more dark and too dark for him to share. But I'm glad he's doing better now. And yeah, It's just a crazy story. It's great he got out alive, unlike his boss. But, uh, rest in peace to his boss and hopefully this OP can, uh, stay sober and stay safe. And I like the last words

he added on saying anything is possible. You can get sober. You can put your life back together. It's never too late. The worst mistake I ever made was telling people that I had won the lottery. I won the lottery about seven years ago between my annuity and profits made from my investments, all net, I get shy of $800,000 a year. I was stunned that I won. Once I confirmed that I won, I started to tell people. I thought they'd be happy for me. They were happy for me for a minute, and then they started to ask me for money, friends and family. Then they told people. I was literally getting 10 calls a day from people asking for money. My favorite was the sister of my coworker saying she needed rent money and a friend asking me to buy them a

$20,000 ring from a girl. He had been dating only for a few months and she was fucking other guys inside. Some people successfully used me and I cut them off. I still helped some people, but I had to cut them off because they're asking me for money, only to give it to others or using the money for something different. It was very traumatic. I even had a therapist try to rip me off by asking for a cash tip after our sessions. I was spending more money on people than on myself. It's ironic that I have more money than I need, yet I can't give it away because it brings nothing of problems. People make generosity not worth it. People want me to finance their best lives and have the arrangement be exclusively on their terms. I will never understand why people can accept one thing

without trying to get more. I chalk it up that people in my life had no respect for me. And okay, this one is a pretty simple answer in my opinion. For me, I'm sure you've all heard it, or at least in my life, that if you win the lottery, the first thing you're supposed to do is contact a lawyer and don't tell anybody about it. And this guy did the opposite of that. I mean, like, what was he expecting the outcome to be? I mean, it's great.

He won the lottery. Phenomenal. But he should have never told anybody. And what was the upside of telling people for people to be jealous? I mean, yes, they are jealous now, but people to be want things from them, to people to be happy? I mean, I don't know what he was expecting the upside of this to be. Like, how did he not expect people to be asking him for money if they know he makes upwards

of $800,000 a year? Like, what was he expecting the outcome to be? To people not ask money? I mean, I understand that it's not good, but people will leach off of you if you have something to give them. So just for any future viewers out there or any viewers out there, if you win the lottery, Just don't tell anybody except maybe me. I own an exotic car rental company and I hate how fake all of my clients are. Throw away for obvious reasons so I don't get docs. But I own an exotic rental car company in one of the largest markets for it in the USA. Along with cars, I rent our boats, houses, and even watches.

On average, I profit about $40,000 to $50,000 a month. I love what I do because it lets my own very nice things without having to pay for them, out of my own pocket. But I've begun to despise my clientele. The rapper and the G-Wagon you see on Instagram is renting it from me for $999 a day. Then they film their music videos on my boat for $3,000 a day and then pretend to live in my houses that I rent to them for $1,000 a night. The iced out paddock he's wearing is another $1,500 a day to rent. The finance guru and the 9-11 you see on TikTok with the full gold Rolex has rented both from me on a weekly basis for $2,500. Sure, I get it. Money attracts money and renting these things to show off help further their

businesses, but it also makes me despise them. When I originally started, I wanted to cater to car enthusiasts. I wanted to rent to the dude who just turned 50 and wanted to rent to the Lamborghini to celebrate. Or the guy who wanted a classy spec 9-11 for his birthday. Unfortunately, that's not where the money is. It's way too easy to make a killing off renting to people who are trying to flex, which is why I expanded into renting yachts, houses, and watches. A couple months ago, we had a client to rent our Ferrari 488 and post on Instagram in the car with $1,000 in singles. He left an ATM receipt in the car from that through transaction, and it showed that he had $40 available balance after withdrawing that 1K. And honestly, I just feel bad for the guy. No amount of flexing on Instagram is going

to fill whatever void you're trying to do. trying to fill. Just a reminder that everything you see online is extremely fake and unfortunately that's now expanded into the real world too. And okay, I could really rip into this guy and just be like, dude, you're making $40,000 to $50,000 a month. Let the people who rent yourself do whatever they want. But I read a few of his comments, went to his profile, seems like a really nice guy so I don't really want to dig into him that much. But in reality, he's bringing up a good point. Don't be jealous of people online because there's a 99% chance. It's all fake BS and they're just flexing something they don't own or even close to owning.

So don't get jealous of people online because it's all fake. And also number two, like I said earlier, I don't want to rip into this guy too much, but that just is your clientele. I don't think you should be complaining because it's really paying all your bills. And I don't know how many older guys in their 50s really want to rent out a Lamborghini other than once a year or once every few years. I think this will be his main clientele for a long time, so I don't think he should complain if it continues to pay him the big bucks like that. I regret having an open marriage.

I'm 31 female, married and have a daughter. So my husband and I had an open marriage for about a year. I love my husband, and he was the one that came up with the idea. He knew I kind of had a hypersexual lifestyle before meeting him, so to make story short, he wanted me to sleep with other guys. That being said, I'm falling for this guy I met. He's perfect. Everything. I still love my husband, but it hurts me to say that if I had to choose one or the other, I wouldn't choose my husband. When my husband wanted this, it spiced things up, but I started to see him differently. I'm just regarding the whole situation. I hope things can stay the same and not end up in a divorce or anything. I do love my husband so much, but it's not the same love I had when we first got married. Okay, I've read a for some reason on this channel a lot of open marriage stories. for whatever reason, and just to make it short, they never work out. Never ever do, or someone's unhappy.

Maybe one person is happy, but the relationship never survives. And I'm not making fun of anyone who is an open relationship, whatever floats your boat. But every single story I've read, it doesn't work out or someone's unhappy. So maybe think twice before you want to get into that with your girlfriend or wife or husband or boyfriend or anything in between. you know, just off of this strict Reddit readings I've done, it wouldn't recommend it. My boyfriend just admitted he's a psychopath to me and that he picked me. I don't know where else to say this or put this, so I'll leave it here. I've been with him for about six months and known him for about three months before that.

He's gorgeous and witty, intelligent, charismatic, genuinely not at all what I stereotyped a psychopath to be. I truly would have never known it. sure, sometimes he can be a little cold, a little dry, and there have been times in a relationship where I'm expressing something he's done to express me, and I'm catching the drift he genuinely does not give a fuck, even if he amends it. My biggest clue, however, was watching him adapt insanely good depending on those around him. We've always been in the same friend group, so I've always seen him act a certain way, behave a certain way, and yes, being his girlfriend, I get a different side to him, but barely. Two nights ago, I went to a work event for his work with

them and I watched in fucking awe as he literally acted like an entirely different person. Everyone loves him because he was acting exactly how they wanted him to, needed him to. The jokes they told that I could have sworn he would think were heinous, he laughed at and made similar jokes. Topics of discussion he does not care for they brought up and he talked with them feigning again amazing interest. It was like he had morphed into this amazing person for them, one, nothing like the person I was used to. I asked him about it on the drive back to mine. He tried gaslighting me and say he acted normal.

I didn't buy it. I didn't invite him to mine like I always did, and I guess that's when he figured out I was mad. He didn't contact me for two days. My boyfriend had upset me and he didn't care to contact me. Okay. Then he ended up showing up and insisting to talk to me, and he told me he was a psychopath. I laughed in his face and told him to get out. He brought his medical information with them stubborn prick to prove it all. The tests, the diagnoses, all of it. I was floored. He told me that people like him are extremely good at adapting to social situations that serve them to fit into. Of course, being friendly and liked at work served him. It's why he's been promoted so fast. It's never a bad thing to have too many friends, so he masks and adapts

when meeting new people and screens them to decide if he really even wants or cares to have them for a friend. I asked him, why me? Why had he made me his long-term girlfriend? He simply said, I'm at a point of my life I think I should have a girlfriend, probably one I'll marry. I knew you for three months and I liked you enough, so I picked you. Picked me? He told me it was when him and I were walking back to mine and I had made a joke he found genuinely funny, and he noticed he found me genuinely pretty, and he decided then and there, yeah, okay, I'll pick her, and boom, a month later we I'm so confused. Does this mean he likes me? Does he love me? Is this as close to love a psychopath's get? I asked him if he generally loved me and he said, I would marry you. Doesn't that answer it? No.

I said I needed time and he just left. I realized I think he literally doesn't give a fuck, so that's why. But he's giving me time. I love him. I don't know if I could live with this. I'm just confused and I don't want to tell anyone just yet. I feel embarrassed that I never figured it out. Anyways, leaving it here. All right, this is an interesting post. And I, if you know the Snook Channel, I have done a lot on cults, psychopaths, serial killers, and everything in between. And psychopaths, I'm not a medical professional, but I've just, you know, read a shit ton on a lot of this. And a lot of psychopaths and aren't, you know, murderers.

They are just kind of differently wired, so to say. And a lot of cult leaders are kind of psychopaths, and they are just very good at being charming and intelligent. They are just smart people. And that doesn't mean they're going to kill you. That doesn't mean they suck. They just might not have as much emotion as the next person. And that really is just what a psychopath is. They'd have less emotion, and they may just respond to things differently.

And if I'm wrong, please correct me down in the comments below. But like you said, he's charming, intelligent, nice, handsome, and he's easily adaptable to other people like the work situation. And that's how a lot of psychopaths and, you know, cult leaders are. They're good with people. And that's how a lot of salesmen are. That's how a lot of business people are. They're just good with people. And they happen to have all of the traits and symptoms of a psychopath, but they might not just murder people. And I'm pretty sure. I'm 99% sure I'm right on all that. But if I'm wrong for whatever chance, please comment down below where I messed up, where I said wrong and I'll pin it or just heart it so other people can see but I'm pretty sure that's all

true and this is an interesting post I really like this one I haven't told my partner that I'm dying because I don't know how she's excited to plan a life around mine and it's breaking my heart throwaway account but there it is the title basically sets the entire premise of this but I was recently brought up to speed on my condition and what the survival rate is for someone in my position. Stage 4 cancer. Spread throughout. It's next to zero, and I'm a realist, so my days are numbered to just a handful of years

at most in some of the best case scenarios. I've been in a relationship with a woman who's been through a tremendous amount of painful losses and setbacks recently in her life. She's made it clear that I've gotten her through some very rough patches and that imagining a life with me has made it easier for her to move past those events and consider a future for herself. I don't have many regrets in life, and I consider myself very privileged to have seen the things I've seen, visited the places I've been, and loved the people I've loved. It sounds strange, but I'm kind of ready. The only thing that is breaking my heart is that I have

no idea how to break this to a person who has attached her orbit to a dying star unknowingly. Edit, I see there are a few questions about the diagnosis. I know this is the internet and folks are out to poke holes and stuff, but in the interest of spreading awareness for anyone who has experienced or has seen these symptoms, I'll elaborate as much as I can without getting too much into personal details. This is the result of a regional recurrent melanoma that spread beyond the origin area. The original melanoma displayed irregular borders, dark pigmented regions contrasted with lighter regions, and was removed with clear margins and follow-up PET scans

showed no traces of meditasis outside of the local region. Bullet dodged. I went on attending regularly scheduled screenings with dermatologists for over a decade, up until I hit a rough patch in my life and stopped. Once you are diagnosed with a melanoma, you must, must, must adhere to a six-month schedule of skin screenings to make sure there's no recurrence of separate growth occurring. A melanoma can spread incredibly fast compared to other cancers,

so it must be caught very quickly within six months. Someone proven to be susceptible to melanoma should create a regimen for getting these screenings scheduled and adhere to them. Insurance won't always cover them, which is insane, but that's another thread. But the cost out of pockets without insurance should be around $250 to $300 USD, budget for that. It sucks, but that's what you have to do. If you don't have the means to pay for the screenings, there are options such as the SpotMe program by the AAD that offer free skin screenings and consult. I fell into a period of my life

where I lapsed in these screenings. For just a tad over three years, I let them go by because I was alone, depressed, and didn't see the point. By the time I met someone who made me want to turn things around and get myself into shape and take care of myself, it was already back and had a head start. So please get yourself screened. And if you've ever been diagnosed with a melanoma or even a benign form of cancer, get yourself a screening schedule and please stick to it. Someone said, I'm sorry, dude, fucked up situation.

You should tell her soon, though. Enjoy the time you got left together. If she knows it's limited, it will be more appreciated and memorable. Also, not to be a dick, but she should have the choice on whether she wants to stick around don't decide for her and then the opi replied saying you are absolutely not a dick and all right that's why i'm confessing i'm ashamed i don't have the strength to tell her it's me that's the weak one not her and god just such a such a rough and depressing situation i mean i just have to wish the best for the op but um sounds like you know they don't have a lot of time left

And this was seven years ago. So, yeah, that's, oh, man, that's, that's, that, that can just give me any goosebumps just thinking about because, I mean, most likely the OPE has passed now. If he said a couple years, it's been seven years since this has been posted. Yeah, it's disturbing. Wow. Another really heavy post. Someone else says, you're not a dying star.

Till your last breath on this earth, you are alive. You have energy flowing through your body. body and you can do so much sharing your love, personality, and happiness to others, especially with your partner. The sooner they know about it, the sooner you both can enjoy the most of this life together, making every silly and mundane moment special just because you were there, breathing the same air, living the same moments in time, and loving each other. So don't worry.

It may be a shock at first, but you're both going to be okay. And then the OPEB replied to this saying, I love this sentiment, and it's in line with how I truly feel at the moment. I'm not scared, at least not yet. I just don't know how much I can help her feel the same when she's already been through so much. I know what must happen. I know that she'll eventually appreciate being brought into the conversation

about my end-of-life care, but I kind of also just want to move on and live her best life and not have to watch me phase out of mind while adding it to her list of people close to her that have passed early. I'm at 30s. I appreciate your words, though, and appreciate your outlook. It's very hard right now. now and looks to be a smidge harder after breaking the news.

But hopefully it gets easier for her. That's all I really want. And then we haven't heard anything more from the O.P. Ever since. Yeah, that's just a really sad post. And I just, yeah, I mean, that's a good testament, though. Make sure you go to the doctor. Get yourself checked out, especially, you know, your skin.

If you go to dermatologist, wear a sunscreen, all that jazz. but wow I guess just keep up with your health it's very important it's the only thing that you know keeps you living obviously but I wish the best for OPE

I hope him is okay if he's still around or rest in peace and I hope his partner is doing much better now sad story I joined a cult when I was 15 using a throwaway account

because I don't want this link to me in any way I've never told this story to anyone and I apologize if it's long-winded. There's a lot to unpack. My parents got divorced in 1978. I was 10 years old. They had joint custody of me,

but I lived with my dad and only saw my mom a few times for a year. My mom was, as my dad liked to say, a fruitcake. She was very religious, Ray Southern Baptist, but always seeking something stricter. Eventually, she fell in with what she called a religious group, and my dad wanted no point. part of it, which was the catalyst of the divorce. There were other issues, but I won't get into

them here. Five years later, my dad died in a car accident. I went to live with my grandparents after that, and I was there for about four months when my mom showed up. At that point, full custody was hers, and my grandparents couldn't afford to fight her in court. I thought I'd be okay with my mom. She was baddie, but I always figured she meant well. I packed my bags and said goodbye to my grandparents and my dog, Toby. My mom said dogs weren't loud at the apartment. Oddly enough, saying goodbye to Toby was the worst. Dad gave me Toby shortly after he and mom got divorced, so I wouldn't be lonely.

He'd been my constant companion. The three-hour car ride with my mom was utterly bizarre. She couldn't listen to the radio because Satan sent subliminal messages through music. All musicians, celebrities, and politicians were agents of hell in her mind. She talked nonstop about the group she was a part of, how they had been praying the day would come when I would finally join them, etc. She acted like my dad had kidnapped me. When I mentioned she was the one who left, who never showed up,

she calmly pulled the car over and slapped the ever-loving shit out of me. The rest of the trip went by in silence. I was stunned. I'd been swatted before, but no one had ever hit me like that. This was the point I should have left. I should have opened the door and ran, but I didn't. I'm sure it will come of no surprise to learn that my mom did not live in an apartment, as she told my grandparents. We drove out to the middle of nowhere to the land the cult lived on.

The house was old, but large, and on a sprawling plot of land. It looked like it had been a farm at one point. The cult leader came to meet us at the door. We'll call him Daniel. Daniel was in his 40s and very charismatic. He was instantly likable for all of five minutes. My opinion of him changed when I learned that my mom and many others were his wives. So let me see if I can break this down.

The woman were his wives. The men were his beloved. There were no children, save for me and one other teenage girl. I wasn't privy to too much information. However, I was able to find out a few things. My mother claimed he was well connected and knew some powerful people. but for all I know, that could have been bullshit. It was difficult to trust anything Mom said.

Daniel told me his wealth came from a trust fund, which was probably true, and I discovered that he had intimate relationships with the women in his cult. There was no TV, no radio, and no books. The only reading material was Daniel's version of the Bible, which he had typed out himself. There was a phone, but Daniel kept it locked in a safe. There were no cell phones at all. It was 1983 and they weren't common like they are now.

We were completely isolated from the world. Food was limited. We ate a strict vegan diet and drank only water to keep our bodies pure. Men and trading women were regulated to the guest house and could not come back to the main house until they were clean again. Here's a rundown of our daily activities. Daniel would hold a daily sermon after breakfast. We kept the house clean and the yard maintained.

We didn't have lunch. We would fast from about 6 in the morning to 6 at night. After dinner came, the evening prayers, and we were all in bed by 9 p.m. There were two couples that were actually married, but they were separated after coming to live with Daniel. When I questioned my mom about this, she said it was to keep the women clean and ready to receive Daniel's blessings. I'm sure you can guess what his blessing entails. There was a lot of emphasis on being clean. I tried desperately to talk to my mom to get her to see reason.

She claimed I was a heretic and took me to see Daniel. She left me alone with him. At first, he seemed like he was trying to be nice. He even gave me a Coke. Soto was a rare treat during my childhood, and I accepted it, thinking nothing of it. It had to have been dosed with something. I remember feeling woozy. After that, all I can recall is waking up in my bed.

I was very sore between my legs. I had been R-worded, and I had no one to turn to. There's more, but forgive me. I don't think I can type it out. There's so much from this time I try not to think about. I was there for two long years. Toward the end of my time with the cult, Daniel's sermons started taking a weirder turn.

He said the only way to be truly clean is to shed our mortal bodies and become spiritual beans. The already limited food became more sparse. We were fed vegetable broth and little else. We were deprived of sleep. He was wearing us down and preparing us to die. He kept us exhausted, starved, and malleable.

I did eventually escape. I did my time. I earned Daniel's trust and I was eventually given permission to drive the cars for errands. Daniel would send us in pairs. The day I escaped, I drove to a grocery store with one of the female members. It was raining and I was able to convince her to let me drop her off at the entrance. She agreed. I sped away when she was out of the car.

I kept going until the car ran out of gas. I was able to reconnect with my grandparents and Toby too. They wanted to press charges against Daniel and my mother, but I begged them to let it be. I was so scared. We were stocked by members of the cult for a while, but after threatening to involve the police, they eventually gave up on me.

I didn't know where the house was, nor could I provide tangible proof of what happened to me, so there was no point to get involved in a lengthy legal battle. I'm in my 50s now. I have two children and I am married. My family has no idea what I went through. All they know is that my parents died when I was young and I lived with my grandparents.

As for the cult, I was able to find Daniel's house using Google Maps. I found the town they did their shopping in and then I just looked around the surrounding area until I found something I recognized. The layout of Daniel's land is forever burned into my memory. From the satellite images, it appears abandoned. I don't know if the members

went through with Daniel's plan, or if they just up and left at some point. Thanks for reading. I can't say I feel better, but it helps to know that someone else knows what I went through, even if it's anonymous. And then I look through the comments and everyone is just kind of commending the O.P.

For getting out of there. And I agree. I mean, this is an insane story, especially back in the early 80s or mid-80s when this happened. I mean, there was a lot of colds going on during that time. So it does kind of line up. I tried to go to the OP's profile and I couldn't find anything. So I guess we'll just have to take the OP's word for it.

But very, very interesting post. And I mean, it's pretty rare to find a I joined a cult post. And I mean, this isn't like a conventional confession. Like I did something, but I guess the OP did join a cult when they were younger. But a very terrifying post and a very terrifying story. I'm glad the OPs, you know, much better now. Sounds like they're much older than their 50s now. But, yeah, there's been no update.

The OP didn't respond to any of the comments or any of the questions in the comments. So, yeah, we have really no answer. But this is a very, very interesting post. On to the next one. My friend of 20 years was arrested for cheese pizza. And I understand how much you guys hate me using the acronym for cheese pizza, but I have to. I can't say any of the other ones. I read every single comment about it with you guys giving me suggestions.

and I understand it's not, you know, cheese pizza isn't respectful at all, but I just have to say that for the video for YouTube. I'm sorry, but anyways, let's continue. This is a super rambling mess of a post in an attempt to vent my anger. I found out that my best friend of 20 years was arrested for cheese pizza, and he fully confessed to it too. Not just that he had it, but was also distributing it. on top of that, it has been going on for years, completely unbeknownced to anyone.

I'm just sitting here in complete shock and horror. This person, and been the closest thing I have ever had to a brother in my life. He was the best man at my wedding. His parents were my support during my parents' divorce. My father would joke about how he was a bonus son, just to find out he is a monster. Needless to say, he is dead to me. I keep wishing he had just committed S word.

I'm sick now, knowing what he was doing behind everyone's backs, just so he could get off to the worst possible fantasies a human could have. He was to be the uncle to my kids. Instead, he was destroying lives for his own pleasure. I've never been so angry as I am now. if given the chance I would kill him for what he has done. I feel so stupid for not seeing this sooner. My wife says there was nothing I could have done.

The only piece I have is he got caught. I just want to rant. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says you knew and were best friends with one version of him, the version he presented to the world. You didn't know and you couldn't have known unless he confessed to you 20 years ago. go and you promise to keep a secret for him, which clearly you did not, then you were blameless for this. Be kind to yourself. The monster within was hidden from view. His victims can get justice now,

whether they realize it or not. Every image represents a life that has been damaged and changed, and he should receive the full force of the law. And time to suffer as a tiny portion of the suffering his part in this evil industry has caused to untold innocence. And yeah, I mean, that comment sums up exactly what I was going to say. I mean, he's blameless for this. I mean, I'm sure he still feels some sort of like blame because he's like, this guy was my best friend. I mean, you just inherently just feel so close to him. And you're like, I should have done something. But at the same time, he couldn't have known. There's no way he could have known. But I just can't imagine, like, the betrayal he felt when he's like, you were the best man at my wedding.

you were going to be my kid's uncle. You were going, like that is just so, so sad. And, I mean, luckily, he got outed now and didn't just get away with it. Who knows if, you know, those fantasies of his could have overcame him and he could have done something, you know, to O.P.'s kids or whatever. I don't know. That's all speculative and alleged, but, you know, who knows? It's just much better that this guy got caught now and is hopefully going to be locked up

for a long, long time. Very sad post and I can only help feel for the O.P. And hope he's doing better now. I'm dying, but haven't told anyone. I was diagnosed with cancer a little over two weeks ago after a regular checkup. Turns out, I have a tumor on my colon that has spread to other areas, liver and lungs so far, and will require extensive chemo and surgery for any chance to live longer than eight months. I'm not having any treatment, and I haven't told my wife because she'll only pressure me to get the treatment, which will result in months of pain and suffering for a relatively small chance of survival. Instead, I'm making sure our last few months together are filled with only happy memories. I'm starting to work later and finishing earlier in the day to make her breakfast

in bed and take her on dates in the evenings. My landlord I rent my workshop from has agreed to let me run my business rent free for the next six months, which means significantly less financial stress, and I can save a lot more. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, okay, real talk here, OP, my husband's grandfather did this, didn't tell a soul, made his doctors agree to not mention it to his family if they were ever around. Him and his doctors called it a side effect of his COPD. His family accepted that, but it was cancer. and he was dying, maybe a year tops. My kids were with their grandmother, his daughter visiting in the hospital.

He was in for pneumonia, which he got quite often and always came home. Another of his daughters was there as his wife had finally gone home to take a nap. Well, he coded with my kids in the room, DNR order. His daughters are screaming because the doctors won't touch him. He's in the hospital so they're supposed to help, right? Thank God my kids were too little to understand what was going on. He passed away with everyone in the hall watching. No warning.

They thought he had come on him in a few days per usual. His wife didn't even get to say goodbye. The family didn't figure anything was going on about the cancer and him having an expiration date until they demanded to know what was going on. He knew and wanted to save them the heartache. Well, his sons hadn't bothered to come visit because it was in the middle of the week and they worked, along with his hospital stays for this being very normal.

They had no closure. The whole family spread his ashes over the headstone of the zone, wife and he had made when their infant son died decades before. Very solemnly, confused, angry, and lost. Please reconsider doing this to your family. It helps no one but you. You're going to die, but your wife isn't, and will have to live with so many wives the rest of her life. You don't have to have treatment if you don't want to, but for the love of her, tell her. And I think that last paragraph the commenter said was perfect. If you love her, tell her.

Because, I mean, yeah, if you're going to pass away in seven months or so, why not tell her? So seven months from now, when you pass away, she's just wondering what the fuck happened, why you died of cancer and you never, like she would feel betrayed, to be honest. It's like, why didn't my husband tell me he was dying? And then she'd be just law. And if you tell her, then, you know, then you can really cherish the last seven months together. If you're going to die, if you know you're going to die in seven, eight months, then why not tell her so you guys can, you know, drop it all and not go to work and, you know,

I don't know, spend the last eight months doing whatever. I know that it sounded like they're in some financial troubles, but still, it's like you could really make something work. If you realize this is the last eight months I have with the person instead of just going about it as usual. I mean, I would feel betrayed if I was the OPE's, like imagine your significant other didn't tell you. And they just died keeping a secret from you, a horrible secret. And sure, you might not want to get therapy or whatever, but you don't have to. I don't know. I just, yeah, very emotional, emotional post. And the O.P. posted this seven years ago, and it was on a throwaway account. We haven't heard from the O.P. since. So who knows if the O.P. passed away. But

if the O.P. did pass away, then rest in peace. And I hope my O.P.'s wife is doing better now. But very sad and emotional story um yeah wow on's the next one i entered a stranger's house to avoid a d ui i live in australia not sure how it works in the rest of the world but i was on my provisional driver's license as a teenager we call them pee plates and when you were on that you can not have any alcohol in your blood whatsoever i stayed at my mate's place one night and he had some beers a drink. I had two knowing I had to drive the next day and was going to stop, but he convinced me to have another, so I did. The next day, I got in my car to drive home, and as I was turning in a corner, there were a couple of police doing an RBT, random breath test, and I panicked. I knew full well

I'd have a little bit of alcohol in me, and that's enough to lose my license for a couple months. I had just left school and gotten a really good job, and if I got a drunk driving charge, I would have to rely my parents to drive me there, which wouldn't work out as they both had jobs. I panicked and turned right on to another street. I drove halfway down the road thinking I'd gotten away with it, but one of the cars suddenly turned around the corner and blasted the sirens. I pulled over and the cop came to my window. And then the cop says,

Can you explain to me why you just avoid an RBT? Instead of explaining to the cop, why, and just taking my punishment, I decided to lie. Me. I wasn't trying to avoid it. I live down here. Then the cop says, Whereabouts do you live? Just over there.

Well, you don't mind if I follow you and watch you enter your house for proof, do you? I kind of shit myself, but agreed. He got in his car and I drove into a driveway halfway down the street and walked up to the door. My current plan was to just explain to whoever it was at the door what's going on

and hope he lets me inside. I walked up and knocked, but no one answered. Then I looked over my shoulder at the cop and turned to just open the door, and it was unlocked. I walked inside and shut the door. I was really scared for if whoever lived there was going to walk out and see me and scream, but no one did. I stayed at the door peeking out the window at the cop, and he left after about 10 minutes. I waited another 10 minutes before walking down and driving off again with a big sigh of relief.

Not here to condone drunk driving or anything. I made a mistake, and it was wrong. just sharing the story. I am a drug addict. This is my story. For nine years now, I've been addicted to breaking bad substance. I'm sorry I have to censor it, but I'm sure a lot of you have watched Breaking Bad, and it's the crystal. So, yeah, it's ruined my life.

During that time, I've lost my wife, my kids, my house, my job, my car, and my self-respect, and most of my teeth. I started doing Crystal and I kept it from my wife for a long time, but eventually she figured it out. She told me I had to stop immediately or she and the kids were leaving. I agreed and promised to stop then got high the same night. She eventually figured it out again and gave me the same ultimatum but added that I needed to join a 12-step program. I did and I stayed clean for a long time but then I had a shitty day and went right back to it. She found out and she and the kids left that. night. She told me that we were done. She made it clear to me that it was them or the crystal,

and I picked crystal. After they left and my wife sent me the divorce papers, I started to spiral. I started doing more and eventually it affected my work. I fucked something up because I was strung out from the night before. It was an accident with heavy machinery. Thankfully, no one was injured, but it was company policy to drug test me, and I did not pass it, so they fired me. I got even more into Crystal and would do it for days with friends of the apartment I was living in. Eventually, I needed more drugs but had no more money, so I started doing petty crimes for drug money. Then the unthinkable happened. My ex-wife was in a terrible accident and passed away.

My children had already lost their father, and now they lost their only parent who was taken care of them. them. I was high as shit when I heard the news. I had a breakdown and I checked myself at a rehab and joined the program again. I had to be there for my children. They were living with her parents as they were the closest family. I got my act together and saw them for the first time in over four years. I was afraid I might never be able to get them to forgive me, but the first thing they did was hug me and cry because I looked so much better than the last time they saw me. I started were working multiple jobs to save more money, but I would come by and see them every couple weeks. I worked 60-plus hour weeks for four years, saving every penny I could.

And when my son graduated last year, and I told him about the money I saved for his and his sister's education. He was speechless. It was not a small amount I saved for both of them, but I lived in a shitty studio in a bad part of town. Had two decent paying jobs, and I didn't have things like cable, internet. I'm using my neighbor's Wi-Fi for my phone, or bought anything that wasn't essential. Between the money I saved, his parents saved, and his scholarship, my son went to one of the better law schools in the country. He was reluctant to take that much money from me, and he is still angry with me for everything

I have done, and rightfully so, but I'm glad I convinced him to take it. I told him that I didn't get the money because I wanted him to forgive me. I did it because he deserved better than what he got from me, and so does his sister. I'm so proud of him. He's going to be an incredibly successful someday. He's going to be a better man than I am in every imaginable way, despite the ways I failed him for so much of his life. I'm still on track with my daughter's money, and she's graduating next year. I did have to quit the second job early this year because, honestly, both jobs are very physically demanding.

and I honestly just can't do these kind of long hours anymore. My doctor tells me I will probably need knee surgery in the near future because of the damage done to my knees. But honestly, I don't care if I ever walk again after next year. As long as I get my daughter her money to further education in whatever way she sees fit. If I can do that for my children, it won't make up for anything, but it'll ensure that they will be well off. She wants to be a doctor. I just hope she can swing med school with the money. I'm getting her.

It'll all be worth it to see my children succeed. I'm doing better now. I'll be getting my five-year chip in a few months. I will never use again or let my children down. I'm planning on getting a second job again in a few months after some more time of working, only 50-ish hours a week just to get more money. I know my body will hate me for this and I will have it best maybe a few years before things to get worse for me physically, but it's okay.

I will be fine knowing that I made sure my children will be successful and better than me. It's going to be worth it. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, wow, what a life, man. Congrats on the sobriety and overcoming it before it took you. Someone else says, thank you for sharing, bro. It's okay to fall down, but you must get up. You had your share downfalls, but you also got the strength and rose to the occasion.

I wish you nothing but success in your life and hope you find. what it is you're looking for. Cheers. And since then, the O.P.'s account has been banned. So I don't know how he's been doing. This was posted it four years ago. So hopefully the O.P. is doing well now. Hopefully his kids are in college. Hopefully they've graduated from college and are doing well now. But wow, what a story of, you know, getting down, but eventually getting back up. Seems to have ended on a good note, which is always great. I broke somebody's spinal cord. And now he has parents. paralyzed for life.

When I was 12, there was this boy in my classroom who loved gymnastics I used to pick on sometimes. Me and my friends called him Gurley or F-sler and stuff. One day in gym class, he was doing some kind of gymnastic twirl. I do not know what this is called in English, but is like a complicated gymnastic pose. I don't know. When I decided to push his back with my foot in order to make him fall, he fell down to the ground heavily and broke his spinal cord, which most likely will have him paralyzed for his entire life.

I was not sentenced in any way due to that it was considered an accident and because of my young age, law might be different in my country than in the U.S. I just got changed to another school. I've tried to reach him and his family several times, but they do not want anything to do with me, of course. He was a boy with dreams and talent in gymnastics, and I have forever, ruined his life. I have been depressed ever since. I wish I could swap places with him because he does not deserve that. Almost three years have passed and it feels like a never-ending nightmare.

Somebody will not be able to live his life properly because I am a jerk. No one wants to be near me since then. I look forward to starts an anti-bullying campaign in the future, but nothing will ever be enough because the boy will always be in a wheelchair, no matter how much I tried to redeem myself. I watched a man commit S word. And that's not the exact title, but I have to censor for YouTube's sake. But anyways, let's get into it.

I watched a man commit S word. In person, right in front of me. A little backstory. I am a firearms instructor slash range safety officer at a shooting range. Before any first-time guest, regardless of their shooting experience, come to the range and before they are allowed to rent a firearm or use their own on our range, they must register and create accounts on our iPads near the front entrance, and they must watch a safety video explaining not only the rules of our range,

but general universal firearm safety rules, and every guest who is not a law enforcement officer or holder of a firearms license must come with a buddy and a valid form of identification. driver's license or USID or a passport for non-Americans. Nobody shoots alone unless the mentioned criteria is met. And before we get into the rules, I just want to emphasize how important this is, whether or not you support guns or you don't support guns or whatever, or have shot a gun or haven't shot a gun or never want to or you do want to.

I think it's very important. These are rules everybody should know, especially if you're in the U.S. where guns are a lot more common, I guess. but yeah the opi then lists seven rules that are very important and i myself just agree with everything said and it's very important for everybody to know this so number one always keep the firearm pointed in a safe direction number two always keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire three always keep the gun unloaded until ready to use four know your target in what is beyond slash behind it.

Five, know how to operate your firearm safely. Number six, always wear eye and ear protection. Number seven, never use drugs or alcohol before a wall using a firearm. Okay, so now we got that out of the way. Let me explain how our range handles safety. It is always our number one priority. It does not matter how long you've been shooting. From a novice to a master, you, if any, RSO reasonably believes,

you are being unsafe with your firearm, rented, or owned, you will be ejected from the range, banned, and have no refund. Furthermore, prior to first-time guests entering the range, they must go through a hands-on training class on how to use firearms safely, as a fail-safe for anyone zoning out during the video. During this time, we are not only demonstrating properly and safely using firearms, but we also watching mannerisms, behaviors, and looking for red flags. Unfortunately, this person was not demonstrating any red flag behavior,

so we had no idea this person had the intention of using our gun to do something horrifying. He was laughing and smiling and holding conversations with us and the rest of the staff. At around 4 p.m. on a Friday in early September, two men came in to rent a pistol. After they went through our first-time guest registration process, they went into the range to shoot being supervised by myself and my coworker. There were two other guests shooting as well, one who I know and talk to regularly, and another who is a member of our range, but I am not familiar with. After the two men shot upwards of 70 to 80 rounds, the man goes up, takes a few shots at his target, takes his ear protection off, and turns the gun. to commit S-word.

And before I lifted my hands and yelled for him to stop, he fired a single shot. And then the description gets graphics, so I won't read everything because it's just very graphic, but he commits S-word right there. He was dead before he hit the floor, and before either of us RSOs can react, his body is now on the ground with blood pooling

as we guide the other shooters out of the range. We have quick alarm buttons on our walls in every range, and at the counters outside the call for either medical or police. I lift the glass on medical and hit the button. My co-workers radio, in that we have a S-word and to have the guy at the counter called 911. We both stood over the guy's body, not knowing what else we could do

or what we should have done to prevent this from happening and saving his life. What haunts me to this day is the fact that there were no indications of this man having the idea of doing something like that. Hug your loved ones. Say you love them.

Call your family. Call your friends. Check in on them. You never know what someone is feeling or thinking. And I learned that lesson the hard way. P.S. I'm fine. It was intense, but I proceeded it with without lasting impact.

I stayed grounded. I understood the gravity of the situation, but it didn't resonate with me on a personal level. Back in the 1980s, I used to run drugs, guns, and women between two major cities. I did some terrible things. Ask me anything. On this, the day before Thanksgiving, I keep thinking about how blessed I am with the life I now have. A loving family, a successful career, a beautiful wife who I love more than anything. At the same time, I cringe during this time of a year when I think back to the life I used to lead.

All the names and locations in this confession have been fabricated, but, with a nod to old memories not being 100% reliable, what I shall confess here is true. Also, before I begin, let me state that I am not proud of this period of my life. I'm absolutely ashamed about it. Out of high school, I went to work at a manufacturing plant that my father and his before him had both worked at their entire lives. I made pretty decent money and owned my first. house when I was only 19 while most of my friends were working shitty jobs and living in small

shitty dorms at various universities. I thought of them as suckers at the time. But despite my decent pay, it was never enough. Enter James, a guy I only barely knew in high school. Like me, he had a fake ID and frequented a very sleazy bar slash strip joint just outside of our hometown. I didn't have many friends at that point because most of them were away at university, improving their lives. I guess that's why I gravitated towards James. Eventually, we started hanging out regularly. For a time, I even let him live at my house. One day, James asked me if I'd like to make $400 cash.

Who wouldn't? And all I had to do was drive a car of his from the city nearby to a city about four hours away. That was it. He'd even give me an extra $50 to buy a bus ticket home after, so I did it without many questions. That's how it began. Every few weeks, he'd asked me if I'd be willing to do anything, and though I knew something shady must be going on, I figured what the hell. All I had to do was drive, drop the car off at a certain address, and then catch a bus back home. Easy money, no questions asked. One day, during one of the drives the car, which was a junker. They always were. Got a flat. When I opened the trunk to get out the spare,

I saw a large black duffel bag. The kind hikers used to pack up large tents, but I knew there was no tent inside. When I opened it, I was only mildly surprised to see it filled with guns. I never mentioned the flat or my discovery of the guns to James. The money was too good, and I didn't want to piss them off. But over time, we just eventually, and naturally, cut out all the bullshit, stopped using code words, stopped pretending I didn't know what I was doing. About a year later, I knew full well that I was transporting either guns or drugs, and usually both, every other weekend. I asked for and received a raise, $600 a trip plus expenses. I never met the people on the other end during this time. I would just drop off the car at either a house or apartment complex in the other

city, then get the fuck out of there. Meanwhile, back at home, James had become my best friend. He knew how to party. He knew everyone at the local bars and strip joints. He must have gotten me late a dozen times, and I'm talking with girls who were hot as fuck. I had serious girlfriends during this time, too, but whenever I had some kind of beef with James, he'd show up at the door with some young haughty that barely spoke English. Some, I suspect, were no older than 16. But they were always very submissive and compliant, and they always showed me a good time. I knew in the back of my head that these girls were being mistreated, that there were most likely escorts, that they were basically slaves. But I ignored all my reservations. I liked having

intimate time with them, and I treated them like shit because it made me not. me feel good somehow. Eventually, James asked me to drive three girls to the other city and dropped them off at a bar. They were transferring, he told me. I agreed. During that drive, one of them tried to escape during a stop at a rest area. She literally threw up in the door and took off running as soon as I stopped the car. I chased her down, tackled her, and dragged her back to the car while she wailed in tears and blubbering things in Polish or Russian. After that, I still didn't stop. I ran the girls too,

but always bound their ankles together with twine before leaving. I ran them both ways, from my city to the other and back. I still ran the drugs and guns too, and I made a lot of money in the process. Everything began to finally change for me when James had me help him start recruiting locals. I know it's horrible,

but the foreign girls were easy to ignore since I never really understood them. Only one in three ever knew much English, and even then they were usually quiet. The local girls, they weighed on my conscience. I suddenly saw them as human. One in particular begged me to bring her home, and she was as young as my little sister. So I did. I brought her home.

The scariest moment of my life was when James showed up in my house after that. He was furious, and he was caring as always. He actually drew his peace on me. I don't know how, but somehow I talked him down from murdering me right then and there. I did a few more runs for him after that, but no women slash girls. Eventually, I got lucky. The plant I worked at had ordered increased production. Seven-day work weeks.

James knew he couldn't pay me enough to make up for me quitting that job, so he accepted the fact I no longer could be one of his runners. After a few months, he stopped even asking me. I got my shit together. During that time, I became very religious as the guilt for what I had done consumed me. I remain religious to this day, though not so much as back then. Eventually, I ended up becoming one of the suckers I used to sneer at. I went back to school, I got a degree, and I've been working in my field of study ever since.

No idea why I got so lucky. Had I been pulled over once in any of those drives, I would have been fucked. Those days will forever haunt my nightmares. When I think of those poor girls especially, my own daughters are older than some of the ones I essentially are worded back then. To this day, too, whenever I read about a shooting in that city, I brought so many guns to, I wonder if possibly one of the weapons had been delivered there by me.

The drug ODs too, the lives ruined. by the drugs. Jesus, help me. But you can ask me anything if you want in the meantime. And before we move on to the comments, I just want to say quickly, this is such a different confession than usual. I mean, this isn't asked me anything, a drug runner, a weapon runner. This is so much different than usual. And right off the bat, I just have to say, it's great that the OP got out of it when he could and didn't stay in that life for much longer. I mean, it's horrible for what he did, but I'm glad he feels some sort of remorse. for it and he feels sorry for what he did and is hopefully doing better now or trying to give back

to his community or do something because yeah that life usually doesn't leave a lot of people but anyways let's get into some comments someone asks saying i know this is hypothetical but if the plant hadn't increased production or if he matched the money would you have stayed in was it just this that made you stop or were you leaning towards getting now already and then the opi response saying, if the plant hadn't increased the production, I would probably have tried to find a way to get out anyway. I was almost entirely clean of drugs at this point, in the guilt of what I had been doing, combined with my realization that I was risking my life and freedom, had me thinking of ways to get out. But James was a scary man when he wanted to be. I had seen it. I knew I

couldn't just go to him and say I wanted it out. The increased production gave me the perfect excuse. While he was pissed about it, James just told me I had to do what I had to do. If he had promised to match the money, I'd still have tried to get it out, but it would have been more tempting to stay in probably because that work was a lot easier, and I was still struggling with my sobriety. Someone else says, do you know what happened to James? Where is he now? And then the OPE respond saying,

James ended up moving for reasons, I don't know. The last communication I ever received from him was a last, letter asking me if I'd be interested in joining him in a new business venture. I never replied to that letter. Years later, I found out he died from an OD. According to the Social Security Death Index, he died half a country away shortly after he sent me that letter. And then the commentary replies saying, sad stuff, man. Glad you got out of it and turned your life around. And then the OPE responds saying, thanks. The really hard thing is looking into my past and seeing such evil. I can I blame the drugs and my youth and the appeal of money, but at the end of the day, I know I was just an evil son of a bitch.

Those girls. I think about those girls all the time. I often wonder what they're doing now, if they ever escaped. But I can't find out because I never knew their names. I wish we had never adopted this kid. My wife and I had been trying for a couple of years to have our own kids, but we've never. found out we could not. So we went the way we had talked about many times before and went through adoption because, hey, every kid needs a home, right? That's when we came across our now adopted

son, Nate. Names changed, of course. Nate was the son of a horrible mom who fucked who she could for drugs, money, etc. His biological father had some sense and convinced mom to put all three of her kids. Nate was the only one of his. The other two, a brother and sister, were from unknown slash different fathers. She agreed. And that was when Nate was about six. He was technically removed due to deplorable living conditions and abuse, but she didn't fight to keep him. We met him for the first time last year. I was sketchy on him. He appeared to have ADHD, not a deal breaker, but wouldn't have been my first choice. He never looked at us, jumped up and ran around the restaurant we met at, and had a hard time focusing. Hell, he's a nine-year-old

kid. Kids have a hard time sitting still and get nervous, I figured. My wife fell in love with him. I was still sketchy about it, but we had met other kids, so he wasn't our first choice at the time. We started getting more info on him, planned on meeting him more, etc. It was a learning curve. We took him to chuggy cheese, just to hang with him for all day. He was all over the the place. That, kids, no biggie. We started finding out more from the foster parents, who we didn't care for. They seemed to be brainwashing their kids and seemed to be in it for the money.

Nothing major, but I was still being cautious. We figured maybe he had either ADHD or some high-functioning autism. Again, not a deal breaker, but it was something I'm not used to. My wife had experience, volunteer and career, with special needs children. He seemed to be growing on us. Called us mom and dad once. We started having fun together. It seemed to be a good fit.

We noticed, closer to the day we took him home for six months before finalizing the adoption, he had addictions. Mostly video games. Not too unusual. Again, he's a kid. Kids are supposed to love video games. Fuck, we both like them. Why not?

But he became aggressive. like wouldn't listen to you, and if you turn them off or threaten to take them away, he'd become violent and throw the controller, kick in a chair, etc. We nip that in the ass as soon as possible, limiting him and explaining why. We eventually took it away altogether, maybe explain later. He saw a therapist, psychologist, optometrist, general physician, and several other professionals. One diagnosed him with ADHD, another thought autism, another thought reactive attachment disorder all seemed less than great but we're attached we'd get

through this that was about a year ago now ever since then at least every other day if not every day we have to put him in restraints all okay per dhs his therapist and others we've had to get on to him we've tried different reward systems we've tried starting nice slash second chances we've tried everything we can think of. Fuck. Even trying to show unconditional love when we feel nearly defeated. He's constantly lying about everything

and anything. He plays dumb. He threatens to be bad, which we aren't afraid of. We've shown him many times we're not afraid of him. He breaks things. He has no emotions, anything.

Never shows remorse unless he's told to. Tell them you're sorry. Does what he wants. Even when he knows it's going to get things taken away. He's tried. and somewhat succeeded to hurt his dog, several times because he wants to see how it feels pain. He's been pure hell.

He understands, but he doesn't care from what we can tell. Just tonight, we had a date night and dropped him off to a parent's night out group at the local Y. We had a great time just being able to be ourselves. We get back, I go in to pick them up. The assistants there pull me aside and tell me he has caught trying to, well not so much trying, he did grab several girls parts twice. That was all the info I needed. I grabbed him, a bit embarrassed, brought him to the car, and had him explain to my wife what happened.

Of course, we've been talking to him for several hours now, explaining why that was bad, etc. But again, he shows no remorse and just makes up excuse. after excuse. Long story short, he wanted to, and so he did. After everything we've been through, I honestly regret adopting him. I don't know if I'd adopt again if I was given the chance. Even if given the chance to go back in time and change my mind on him and switch to another kid, I don't think I would. We'd be much happier without him or any other child in our home. I wish Nate had never come into our lives. And I'm pretty sure my wife wishes the exact same thing.

And now let's get into some comments. And boy, these comments are honest and harsh. Let's get into it. Give him back to the state. It's not worth it to keep him. He has had a shitty life, but he is clearly beyond your means and abilities. It's sad, but it has to be done for your sanity and quality of life. Then someone replies saying, seconded.

Things don't work out. I feel like OP and Mrs. O.P. were rushed into this decision. This kid was born addicted to whatever the fuck his biological mom was on, and now you have the deranged juvenile running your house. Has O.P. talked to wife about giving him back? Then someone replies saying, thirded. Might even be good for the child.

If it's clearly not working out here, perhaps he can have a chance with someone else. And then someone else says, when you said reactive attachment disorder, I knew you were effed. That is one thing that is just going to totally psychologically destroy a person for life. You see, plenty of adults that have ADHD and high functioning autism make it and do fine in life, but I have never heard of a story of someone with reactive attachment disorder being anything other than a complete psychological disaster. The main stories I have heard are of severely neglected children from Russian orphanages who are complete demon children.

I hate to say this, but he will probably get violent towards you at some point. And that is kind of the general consensus. Everybody is saying he's kind of a lost cause, especially for the O.P. and Mrs. O.P. here because I think they're in over their heads. They can't, you know, not fix, but they can't help someone like this. just aren't a specialist at all. And this kid was just given to him at this state, and it's kind of hard to fix that for just adopted parents. And the OP has made no new updates on the profile or on the OP's profile.

So we don't know what happened. But everybody in the comments was being very, very honest and very, very grim. They're saying that they can't really help him. And he seems to be a lost cause almost. and to just give them back to the state. And I'm really curious to hear what you guys think about this one. If you guys have any thoughts, please drop them down below. I'm curious to hear if you guys think these Reddit comments are being too harsh or they're being honest and there really is no fixing Nate.

But hopefully Nate's doing better now. Hopefully the OP and the OP's wife is doing better now. And I'm just really curious what happened with this situation, but we have received no updates. I'm waiting for my brother to either commit S word. or get his life together. Today, my younger brother turned at 21. No party, no celebration. He refused to read his birthday card from our grandma.

He did not even want to blow out the candles on his cake. Ever since I was about 12, I knew my parents were failing him. He was a hyperactive kid, so they pumped him full of ADHD medication, which gave him insomnia and anxiety. So they put him on anxiety meds, and sleeping pills, which made him depressed. So they put him on antidepressants, all before age 10.

He was given a computer at a young age and was completely addicted immediately. My parents set no boundaries in terms of usage, so he would play all day, every day, sometimes late into the night before school. As you can imagine, this resulted in him becoming antisocial, ruined his grades, and prevented him from parents. participating in any meaningful activities like sports or clubs. I would get into screaming matches with my mother over the fact that she needed to take the computer away from him.

Then our other family members started expressing concern. Then teachers. Our parents did nothing. Later, he was diagnosed with colic disease, which explained his difficulty concentrating and other problems he had been experiencing. My parents provided him with gluten. free food for about six months before giving up. It was all too hard.

Pathetic, I know. So he has now been eating gluten as a known coliac for the past six years. I've had a million discussions with him and my family about how much damage this causes and they pretend to care but are too lazy to do anything about it. I tried providing education. I tried giving meal ideas and grocery lists. I tried cooking gluten-free meals for the family. They do not change.

As I became an adult, I would speak to other family members and family friends who agreed that what my parents were doing was wrong. They would agree that he needed the computer taken away, that he needed to be disciplined, and that he needed to stop being gluten. At that point, so much damage had been done, and he ended up dropping out of high school eight months from graduation. His reason? Our mother couldn't drive him, and he didn't like walking to school.

My brother is not an idiot. My parents are both well-educated and intelligent people. Why they have made these choices I can only assume is to avoid temporary discomfort. He has been to so many psychologists and nothing has helped. One psych refused to continue seeing him because he was refusing to accept help. Over the years, he had expressed how depressed he is, but seems to have no desire to be helped. He has threatened Sward a dozen times, but never acted on it. When he does this, I urge my parents to take him to the hospital, to call an ambulance, but then he is suddenly all better.

He uses S-word as a threat to get what he wants for them, and they don't see it. I know the way I'm thinking might sound extremely harsh, but truly, I feel at this point he either does a complete 360 or simply commits S-word. Sadly, the latter is more likely to happen. I have exhausted all my options. He is unemployed and will not apply for jobs. He does not want to try any new hobbies. He refuses to volunteer anywhere. He knows that I'm here for him whenever he needs, but he does not want help.

At the end of the day, there's nothing left I can do unless he chooses to help himself. We have both dealt the same cards in life. I have not been exempt from problems in my life. I have had low points. Arguably, I have faced far greater challenges than him, but I have made the best of what I have. I have helped myself. He has decided this life for himself.

In the past year, I have had to stop trying and simply let go as other priorities in my life take over. I'm currently working full-time and saving for a house deposit with my partner. We plan on getting married and having children as soon as financially possible. Once I have children, they will be my top priority. I fear that when our parents eventually, pass away, I will be the only person left in his life. At that point, I will not be able to help him. I just had to confess the way I feel. I know it is horrible, but it is the most realistic conclusion to this problem. Tell me I'm an asshole. Tell me there's something I can do. And then the OP makes

an edit saying, I do not live with my family anymore. For the people saying, I don't understand ADHD. I also have it but was diagnosed later in life, as is typical for most girls. It wasn't picked up when I was young. I have also suffered with severe depression and desperate thoughts, but have chosen to reach out for help and work on developing healthy coping mechanisms. I don't want to provide too many details about myself because I wanted my brother to be the focus on the post, but thought this would provide some more context. And now let's get into some Redditor's thoughts and get into the comments on this post.

Someone says, your parents completely failed him, but this isn't on you to fix. You've been trying to help for years, but you can't make someone change that doesn't want to change. And I do agree with that. I mean, you can help someone or try to help someone as much as possible, but some people just don't accept help. And it's horrible because you might want the best for them, but they just can't accept it for whatever reason. Another commenter says, eh, at this point, you're just going to have a million people here telling you you're in the wrong because of his age or his ADHD or their own projections based on non-related things they felt as kids. But ultimately, just do the best you can.

If he doesn't want help, don't stress yourself out too much trying to give him it though. Some people are just set on failing in this world. It's like that old phrase, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make a drink. Good luck. And then a commenter replies to this saying, Agree, my little brother was almost exactly the same as this kid. The real problem was the more people pressured him, the harder he dug his heels in. I started coming over and bringing him some new clothes from Walmart. I'd asked if you wanted to hang out and if he said no, then okay, see you later. He didn't leave the house for years. I genuinely thought he might. He might be. might murder S word my mom for while it was so bad. One day he said yes. We got Mexican food and I told

him about my job. He said, sounds boring. And I'm like, yeah, bro, but it makes me afford cool shit and I kind of like it. This was a major turning point for him. Now he has a great job. His coworkers adore him. He seems genuinely happy and he has more friends than I do. No one ever believes it's been such a wild 180. I do think he's a little autistic, but the only evidence I have is the lack of identifying sarcasm and his way to logical attitude for literally everything. And yeah, I think that one poster said it perfectly.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make a drink. And I just have to feel bad for the O.P. Because the O.P. genuinely seems to want to help their brother. But, you know, it's either a mix of the parents not trying to help ever since a young age. and now it's kind of a lost cause. But as the reply to that comment said, he says,

my brother was the exact same. And he did a 180 and he's all good now. So hopefully the OPE doesn't give up on her brother just yet. And he can make a 180 and improve his life. But, you know, we haven't heard any update since then. This was posted about a year ago. So hopefully the OPE is doing better now and the OPE's brother is doing now. I've lost $200,000 in the past three years gambling.

I, 25 male, have a serious gambling problem, and I'm not sure who to go to anymore. It all started in the middle of COVID with $25 here and there, betting on sports and playing blackjack for fun. Never really was a big issue. Never betting more than I could handle. I have a great job. I have a great job that pays me $100,000 a year. I still live at home and pay the little necessities like rent and bills.

In 2022, it got bad. I lost about $80,000 without anybody knowing my entire life savings was gone. I called 1-800 gambler, got myself banned for my respective state from all casinos and online, and even told my mother about it. I was doing good for about three months, and then 2023 hit, and I found this app where I could bet cryptocurrency. So I started there entering in $500 here and there. I want help. I know I need help and I get into these moods where I just can't stop even though I know it's bad. I can't help myself.

I've been through all the swings. The gamblers have the winnings and the losings. I'm unaware of what to do and where to go. I lost it all last night. I've been up all night thinking about it. I feel lost and very tired. And I just thought this was a very important confession to add because, because gambling is horrible and it is even worse in the modern day.

I mean, I'm sure you see a lot of YouTubers promoting it and taking a sponsor from gambling companies and every single ad on YouTube is basically a gambling company nowadays. It feels like a gambling truly is such a slippery slope. And you just don't win no matter what. Because if you gamble for the first time and you win, great. You're going to want to gamble again and then you'll eventually lose. and then if you lose, you know, you're going to want to win that back,

and then you can keep losing, and it's just a, I mean, that's just obvious gambling, but it's just not a risk you want to take. Even the first time can get you hooked, and it's just a very slippery slope of losing all your money. And it's hard enough to keep money nowadays, let alone just throwing it into the void of the gambling universe or whatever, the gambling gods taking it from you. But, yeah, just very rough story, and I can only feel for the O.P.,

losing his life savings. I mean, I can't even, I can't even imagine trying to rebound from that and to have the motivation to continue working or continue doing anything in life knowing he lost like tens and tens of thousands of dollars. God, it's just so, so sad. And let's get into some comments. Someone says, normally posts like this make me want to mind my own business. First things first, the money gambled is gone. You know this place. You know it's your bones. The door with incredibly steep stairs is a choice you could take, my friend, and you should take it.

Realize that not only do you have the privilege to have had the fun you've had for so long, but you also have the luxury of being able to bounce back. Having not affected anyone by yourself for the most part, learn and grow. Perfection is enemy of progress, and you've never going to have a streak that will resurrect the pain from you. Gambling is a demon that will rob you of the person you were meant to be. Many of us have been here and you'll bounce back and beat this. Turn the page.

Leave it behind and take what we've learned and use it to be fucking amazing. Edit. Oh yeah. Get some sleep. Lord, what a difference a day makes. And then the opi response saying, Thank you so much, kind of stranger. I'm going to make this post my homepage on my phone.

And it's been about a year since the O.P. posted this with no further updates, so I can only hope the O.P. has gotten better, rebounded and bounced back the best he could. I hate my brain damaged sister. I can't believe I'm actually typing this out. It's making it feel very real. Now, before you say it, I know, I know. I am probably one of the worst human beings on this planet.

Around a year ago, my oldest sister, 27, widowed mother of two boys, eight and five, decided to, against every single warning made, get drunk as shit and wreck her car into a rock embankment outside of her town. She was life-flighted to a ICU and spent weeks in a coma and awoke in a vegetative state. In the past year, she has slowly began to see some progress. Because of this accident, I was forced to quit my job, leave my friends, move across the country, and back in with my parents, to help take care of her and raise her. my nephews. I love them dearly, but I have never wanted to have kids, especially not forced

upon me like this. She has the mind of a child now. Arguees about silly things, can't cook for herself, cries over everything, can't read, memory loss, partially paralyzed on her right side, has aphasia and a list of other problems with her as her caregiver. She tells me how happy she is to be alive after such a bad car accident. I want to scream that I wish she would have died. Her boys are are a wreck after losing their dad recently, and now having a fucked-up mom. My parents are spending all of their retirement savings for her treatments. I can see the years being shaved off my dad and mom from the stress. I don't treat her any differently. I still tell her stories and laugh with her and do my best, but I hate the way I feel when I look at her. Did you even think about your

boys when you got in that car? She is smiling and completely ignorant to the pain she has caused to my entire family. So, I guess, I guess, that's it. That's my confession. I have a deep, dark hatred and resentment for someone I love. And I will never let her know. Edit. I am a female, by the way, and some people have said pretty horrid and cruel things, and I totally get it. But I already feel pretty fucking shitty about my feeling, so you can't really make me feel any worse. Everyone else, thank you so much for the support, advice and feedback. I've read and appreciated every comment. A lot of the medical and health care advice I will be talking to my parents about, and hopefully the financial

parts of this can be helped a little bit. Thanks guys. Much love. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone just says, damn. And then someone else replies saying, that's exactly what I said. That's all I can say. Damn, damn, damn. Someone else says, damn is right. That is hell and sucks. You are not a terrible person. You are a self-less person and have given up so much for your family. There has to be some life for you. Is there respite care so you can get away? A plan for when the kids are older maybe? And then the O.P. replies saying, Mom keeps talking about me adopting them eventually. The thought terrifies me. Someone else says, I can't relate in a way. My sister is a junkie and eventually landed her ass

almost dead in the hospital. When I went, I thought I'd cry. I thought I'd be scared. I thought I'd be scared. and sad. I looked at her, full of tubes and breathing with the help of machines, and I just wanted to slap her and scream, you did this. It was weird to feel so angry at someone I was supposed to love. The anger didn't subside. I didn't feel an ounce of empathy or compassion for her. At that point, she already lost custody of my nieces, and like your parents, my mom is a lot of her retirement taking care of young children when she should have been finally relaxing and enjoying her life without kids. She mostly recovered and immediately went back to H.

Now she leeches off my mom. And my nieces ended up living with her dad. They lost yet another bit of stability because of her. It's a terrible thing, isn't it? Hating someone that you're supposed to love and support? It's been a year since the hospital, and I'm still trying to figure out how to live with this deep contempt and revulsion for someone that became my best friend

the moment she was born. And then the opi replies is saying, I felt the exact same way when I saw her the day after the car accident. She had tubes and monitors everywhere, in a brain swelling drain drilled into her scalp. I cried at first, but... And then got so mad when they told me her drug alcohol limit was four times the limit.

She passed out at the wheel. And then the person replies saying, Yep, and people try to shame me by saying addicts can't control their urges. Bullshit. Even if she can't now, she made the initial decision to start. She has drained us all for years And I can no longer reconcile that creature

As being my sister I'm so sorry for what we're going through I can't even begin to imagine feeling this way And having to take care of her It must be awful Don't let those assholes preaching about true love get to you This isn't a fairy tale And true love shouldn't include

Having to lose yourself Or lie to yourself for someone else You do whatever you need to do To get through this bullshit And you feel whatever the fuck you need to feel and wow this was a very very heavy post i can only feel for the opi and wish her well and i i wish i had a good update for you and being like well the opes better now her family's better now but the opi then shortly after this deleted her account so we have no update no new comments no anything i don't know

how the opes doing but like i said i can only wish her well and wish the best for her and her family But man, that is just a heavy, heavy post. And, yeah, wow. On to the next one. I denied my grandma forgiveness on her deathbed. I had an act committed against me during the summer when I was 15. I didn't consent to it.

My grandma and mom refused to believe me, get me any type of care or press charges. They said I asked for it because of how I dressed, long skirt and turtleneck. My grandma threw me out of the house for about a week. They only took me back because my grandpa threatened to call CYES and file for custody. I made a promise I would never forgive them. He did it again to another girl and she pressed charges.

Others started coming forward. One of them was someone they knew. They finally believed me. Too little, too late. Two years ago, my grandma had a stroke and was put on life support. As predicted, various members started contacting me to come visit her and say final goodbyes. Supposedly, she was asking to see me. I believe it was because she always preached about forgiveness and resolution before death.

I refused to see her. She passed away, and when I got the phone call, I shrugged and went into work. I played ding-dong the witch's dead on my way in. I didn't attend the funeral, and I have never seen where she's buried. I feel zero remorse. I'll be the same way when the Reaper comes for my mom. Damn, that was an intense post. I understand why the O.P. feels that way, but still, yeah, that's an intense post,

insane confession. And let's get into some comments. Someone said, her wanting to see you wasn't about you. It was about her clearing her conscience before she died. My grandma did the same thing. You did what you had to do for you. Continue to live your life as best as you can. Good luck.

And I think this commenter really hit the nail on its head here because I don't think the grandma was feeling remorseful. I think she was just feeling guilty for what she did and didn't help out the O.P. When she could have helped her out or press charges or tried to get the guy who assaulted her in jail or something of the sort. I do think that she wasn't

sorry because if she was sorry, she would have made an act towards it when she was living, but instead on her deathbed, she had to kind of make a last-stitch effort to kind of clear conscience. A very sad situation overall, and the OP then comments, this hit home. I don't believe she was capable of real remorse. Beautifully said. And yeah, a very sad situation overall, and I just wish the OP could have gotten, you know, help when she was younger and not years and years later, but when her grandma was on her deathbed. Such a sad situation, but I wish the O.P. the best. On to the next one.

I think I killed someone. So a few years ago, I, 21 at the time, was at a bar. And as I was drinking, this older dude started asking me for a lighter. I told him that I didn't smoke. But he then started getting aggressive and squaring up to me saying, you better keep your mouth shut. He then tried to hit me with a glass bottle, but I quickly punched him in the chest.

No one really saw it because this was a packed bar, and I just hit him very quickly. After I hit him in the chest, he then walked away, but then sat down over in a corner. I then thought to myself, well, that's him gone. But then, as I was leaving the bar, paramedics came running in. I didn't bother going back to check what happened because I was pretty drunk and just wanted to get home so that I can go to sleep.

Anyway, the next day, as I woke up, my mother said, said, apparently, insert name, dropped dead from a heart attack at the bar you were at yesterday. And when I saw the picture, it was the dude who I hit. By the way, this dude was in his 50s and had three kids. His daughter was in my class at school. She used to sit right beside me in English class, funny enough. And he had heart surgery a week before this happening, so he had heart issues.

I've never told anyone this story, and I feel like I did kill him. But shit happens, I guess. And wow, I was not expecting that ending by the O.P. I mean, that was a very nonchalant way to be like, well, I probably killed someone. But anyways, but yeah, that's insane. Let's get into some top comments. Someone says, so for context, someone gets agro at you and tries to hid you with a glass bottle with zero provocation. Then he subsequently kneeled over dead with one punch to the chest is neither your fault nor your problem.

Either he could control his drinking and had a heart condition he knew about, in which case he shouldn't have been drunk and angry to the point of instigating altercations at pubs or he had no idea about the heart condition and it was bad luck and then someone replies to this saying there might have been more to the story he isn't saying from asking for a lighter to keep your mouth shut

there must have been something that happened or said that the OP isn't mentioning and to be honest that's a decent point but yeah no proof of that I mean the OP never commented on this threat again so we can't prove or disprove that. Someone else says, if O.P. was in the same class as his daughter, like he said,

he could have been trying to tell him not to tell his family he's drinking slash smoking a week after open heart surgery, but it sounds like he was already inebriated, so it's highly plausible. He didn't connect the thought to a coherent sentence. And, I mean, that's all speculative, so I don't know. Very interesting theories, though. Someone else says, I think it's a bad coincidence.

He shouldn't have been trying to drink. or smoke right after heart surgery. In shows, he didn't take good care of his health. Your punch probably didn't help him, but I think his heart attack was going to happen regardless because he got himself worked up to begin with. Someone else says, I'm sure it was more the rage than the hit that did it to him.

Anger issues and high blood pressure go hand in hand. You didn't kill him. He basically did it himself. Someone else says, this all the way. Alcohol and tobacco has effects on your lungs and heart. He should have been taking it easy. Also, it seems like he was a ragy drunk. He shouldn't have let himself get so worked up over nothing because anger works the heart harder.

Interesting theory. And then some people start talking about the legality of this and if the O.P could be liable for his death. And let's get into this thread. And you're supposed to know all these details before defending yourself? Nah, I wouldn't worry about it. If he knew he was that fragile and wanted to hurt himself because of it, He was probably too big a pussy to hurt himself and thought a bar fight would be more manly or something. I don't know.

I don't really agree with that theory, but then someone else says, technically, in some parts of the law, there is the concept of the eggshell skull doctrine. It basically says that you can be responsible. Legally, in situations where you injure someone even in the attack would not have hurt a normal person. If you hit a guy on the head with a stick, which 99% of people would be fine from, but their skull was a an eggshell and they cracked, you could be fucked. There's a whole bunch here about self-defense and intent that I don't feel like working through. So I'm just talking to that specific point you made. And that's actually insane. Someone else says, L.O.L. Hold on a sec. I just want to get your doctor to sign off a consent form to disclose your personal health information before we throw hands.

And actually, the opia applies to this saying, apparently the dude was a nice guy because my mother knew him, but we all know that drink can turn people violent. I was also a bit drunk myself, and I can get a bit violent as well. But I grew up hunting animals and watching videos, so maybe that's why I just don't feel much. Um, interesting comment by the O.P. And he got negative 50 down votes there as the OP. So yeah, people don't really agree with him there. And that's kind of a weird way to say this. I mean, he's acting very edgy all of a sudden. I don't know. That's very, very odd to me. Very interesting theory. Let me know your thoughts down below. Do you think the O.P. should feel bad? Because obviously, he doesn't think, he doesn't feel bad. He's not saying

he feels bad at all. So do you think the O.P. should feel bad? Do you think he shouldn't? Or do you have some other theory? Comment down below. Knocking at my door at night. Throwaway account. The past few weeks, I'm woken up to knocking at my front door. My bedroom is very close to it. All that's between my bed and the entryway to the house is one wall. My bedroom window can see onto the front porch, but at such an angle that I can't see the door itself. Only the space directly in front of it. My parents, whose bedroom is in the basement, don't hear the knocking. Neither does my little brother, but he's at the other end of the house.

My sister is almost as close to the front door as I am. And while she doesn't hear the knocking, she's been complaining about not to see the door. sleeping well lately. More details about the knocking. It tends to happen very late at night, or early, technically. During the week, I'm in bed at 10 or 10.30 or so. I can be up for work at 6. Everyone else is in bed at the same time or shortly after. On the weekends, I'm up a few hours later, but everyone else's sleep schedules stay the same. When I go to bed early, the knocking seems to happen at around 12 or 1. But when I'm up late, it's not till close to. or to three. This makes me think that whoever is knocking is somehow trying to get my attention.

Maybe they even know that I'm near enough to the door to hear them better than the rest of the family. Maybe they're trying to wake me up or interfere with my sleep, so they wait till I'm asleep? Just an idea. The knocking is fairly quiet. Another reason it might be targeted at me, so I hear it, but not anyone else. It's loud enough to wake me up, but without filling the whole, whole house. It doesn't seem to follow any sort of pattern, just a typical three or four knocks like you'd use to normally knock on a door. I usually wake up mid-knock, making me think that whoever is doing it has probably already been knocking for a few minutes before I even wake up. But that's just a guess and I really have no way of knowing. Once I'm awake, it continues every

couple of minutes for 10 or 15 minutes before stopping suddenly, sometimes even mid-knock. I've tried looking at my windows to see who's out there, but whoever it is stays out of view from my window. In no way am I going to the door to see who's there. I can see, however, that the screen door is being held open so they can knock on the wood door. It could just be some prankster, but it's been happening for close to three weeks now.

That seems like a lot of time and effort, especially so late at night, just to get no reaction. Before you ask, I'm going to buy a night vision camera, if it doesn't stop soon. It's a lot of money, but at this point, it's worth it if it helps. And yes, I have told the police, but they say there isn't a lot they can do.

They've sent patrol cars by a few times, but they don't see anything. Those nights, the knocking comes late, but it still comes. They say they'll continue to help however they can. But they can't dedicate a unit to watch my house, since they don't have any sort of evidence of what's happening besides my testimony.

If anyone has any ideas, please share them. I'm getting desperate. Whoever this is seems determined to torment me, and I'm helpless to stop them. I will take any and all advice. Thank you. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, that's spooky as hell. I'm sorry you're dealing with that. For the record, I have two nest cameras, they're a little pricey, but very reliable and the quality is good. Good luck. And then the OPI replies saying, that's probably what I'll be getting, since there's no sign anything changing. I really don't want to spend the money, but it's a lot better than living with

this, or even worse. Whatever they might do next. Someone else says, if you can see the screen door being held open, why don't you just wait until they're done to see who closes it? And then the OP replies saying, that's a really obvious idea. Can't believe I didn't think of it. I'm trying this tonight. We'll post pictures if I can't get any. And then another comptor has a rather good theory saying, how old is your sister? I suspect she may have a nighttime visitor, especially seeing the knocking sometimes stops mid-knock, and she has been tired lately.

And that's a great connection. I didn't think about that, but the opi did say his sister has been tired lately, and so maybe she hasn't been sleeping at night and inviting some boy over or whatever to do whatever at night. That's actually a good theory, and then they finish off the comments saying, otherwise, go and get your parents when the knocking starts,

or sit up and watch until the person leaves. so you can see who it is. This really should be an easy one to solve, and I do agree with that commenter. And then the OP replies saying, she's about the right age, whatever that means, but she's extremely conservative

and not at all the type. And if that were the case, the visitor would probably be knocking on her window instead of the door because it's an easy reach. But she surprised me before, so I could be wrong, and that could be what's going on.

I'll have to watch for any signs of that. Someone else suggested just watching to see when they leave, so that's what I'm going to do tonight. Hopefully, I'll be able to get some pictures. And before we move on to the OPEs update, I just want to cover one more comment because I think this is another good theory. The commenter says, yikes, this is creepy as hell. Definitely get someone to stay up with you.

Record the noise and try and get pictures or videos to then take to the police if it turns out that it actually is somebody doing this to you. Can you think of anyone who would want to harass you? How long has this been happening for? It's strange for it to be a random person doing this for ages to get no reaction whatsoever. Seems like it'd be more personal if it's persistent. Would your parents help you pay for a camera ASAP? You could pay them back.

It's better to be safe than sorry. And then the OPE replies saying, Now that I think of it, I broke up with my ex-girlfriend just a few days before it started. She was slightly pathologically insane, but it was an online relationship. She lives over 2,000 miles from where I live, and she doesn't have the means to travel to where I am

or to stay long term. And I'm pretty sure she doesn't have my address or even my city, but still, there could be a possible connection there. Hard to say. I'll talk to my parents about buying a camera now. I don't know if they can afford it right now either, but it's worth asking. And so that's another good theory,

even though it's not likely considering she lives. lives 2,000 miles away. But we have the ex-girlfriend theory of some crazy ex-girlfriend knocking on the Opie's house or the sister up late at night with another person. Two decent theories or the third. It's some crazy guy that's consistently knocking on the Opie's house only to get the O.B.'s Attention. Very interesting.

But let's move on to the OPEs Update, titled Knocking Update. in the post reads as follows. So, first, the boring stuff. I replaced the bulb on my front porch, as some people suggested. It's working fine now, so hopefully that will deter the person. I ordered a wise camera, but it won't be here until the weekend. Me and my dad are also going to install a peephole in the door when we set up the camera. So between those three things, the front door will be much more secure soon.

Now, the interesting stuff. Last night, me and my dad both stayed up. He was in the living room, which the front door opens into. He had a clear view of the door. And he kept the blinds drawn and lights off so that I would look like he wasn't there. I was in my room catching up on some college work

I've fallen behind on since this whole thing started. If I'm going to stay up late, I might as well be productive. All my lights were off and my blinds were closed. So it should have looked the same as normal from the outside. The night was quiet. No knocking. So at 1230, I decided to go to sleep. I went to tell my dad, and he said he'd stay up another hour just to be sure, then he'd go to sleep as well. At about 115, he got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he sat back down on a couch

with a clear view of the door, as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He thought he could see something in front of the small window near the top of the door. When he looked closer, he realized it was a fucking person's face. He immediately grabbed his phone and called the police, staying away from the door. After a few minutes of talking, the operator asked him to look at the window again from a distance and try to describe the person, but they were gone by then. The police sent two squad cars over, one to talk to my dad, and the other one patrolled our street in the surrounding streets for anything suspicious. They didn't find anything, but they took my dad's story

and talked to me as well. My dad woke me up as soon as he got off the phone with the police. They're going to send patrols down our street at regular intervals throughout the night for tonight, and probably the rest of the week too. My dad didn't see enough detail for a suspect sketch, so all we have to go on is the person is tall enough to look through the window in the door. It's about six feet above the concrete step in our front door, so the person is probably at least six foot five to get a clear look through it. Part of me hopes they come back and we get a better look. Part of me really hopes they don't. On the bright side, this rules out the possibility of it being animals, house sounds, or just my mind.

It's definitely real, and the police are involved now. So I guess it's good to have a better idea of what's happening, but still, it's scaring the shit. shit out of me. I'm generally pretty brave. I've wrangled loose venomous snakes and didn't break a sweat, but that's a threat I understand and can predict. I know what a scared animal will do. I've got no idea what this prowler will do. I know how to catch and calm a snake. I don't have the slightest idea of what this guy wants or what he'll do to get it. That's what scares me, not knowing what's next. I guess all I can do is go to sleep tonight. and see what happens.

Wish me luck. And now this is terrifying. I mean, now it's obviously not him imagining it. It's most likely not his ex-girlfriend, considering this guy's six foot five. And it's also not likely that this is the O.P.'s sister who's just hanging out with some guy late at night. So let's get into some comments and see some other people's updated theory.

Someone says, the fact that they came back multiple nights and they're not knocking loud enough to get the attention of the whole house seems to me like they're casing your home. Trying to figure out when you guys are asleep and if you'd wake up to certain noises. More than likely just a simple crook looking for an easy break-in. Make sure you have all your valuables locked up just in case and if your parents don't own, that they at least have renter's insurance.

If the person saw your dad, they hopefully they know that you guys know they're coming around and will stop. And then someone replies saying, normally I'd agree, but there's something very off about this. If it was just them trying to case the house, they would have broken in by now, but rather they clearly are watching the house mid-evening on and waiting until everyone is asleep to go knock on the door. And then the other guy replies saying, I've had a dude try casing my house over the span of months. Drug addict behavior rarely makes sense. Decent theory. But yeah, I agree. Why wouldn't the guy just break in at this point. Even if it is a drug addict with a completely deranged mind that's not in

the sound mind, I feel like they would have broken in by now instead of just knocking on the door late at night over and over and over and over again. But another commenter says, that's honestly terrifying. Do you know if the person realized your dad saw him? I hope everything works out for you guys and you get to the bottom of this. Please keep us updated if you can. Good luck. And then the OPE your reply saying that's what we assume happened obviously no way to be certain i'll continue to update every time anything big happens but not too much so i don't spam and then the op gives us an update titled another quick update in the post reads as follows just a short update to let everyone know i'm all right and to respond to comment comments on the last update first here's what

happened last night i decided to sleep on the couch with a weapon handy baseball bat with a sock as was commonly suggested, because I felt that my dad deserved a break after last night. It was hard to sleep, but the window was covered, so I felt safe enough to eventually doze off. At one point, I woke up and thought I heard footsteps and or voices outside the door, but I'm pretty sure it was just my anxiety and half-asleep state playing tricks on me. No knocking or disturbances all night, which is a huge relief. As for the camera, it's been delayed due to harsh winter. winter weather in my area. So I decided to just cancel the order and found one at a store nearby.

I couldn't figure out how to set it up, but a friend of mine who's worked on a security system before is going to come take a look later tonight. It should be working fine before I go to bed. A lot of people suggested asking friends or neighbors to help us catch this guy. That's a great idea. I talk to my neighbors. Most of them don't have surveillance cameras, but those who do will see if they can find anything. One of my friends, the tech guy who's helping me with the camera, is going to set up camp for the night in his car across the street and downways so it's not obvious he's watching our house.

His girlfriend will be there too, so hopefully two sets of eyes catches something. Last, I want to quickly address some specific comments. I'm not telling anyone to attack them. I'm not trying to get people riled up. I just think these people make good points and I want to talk about it. Here's the first, in the comment reads it follows, saying, you'd think with everyone having a camera on their phone, somebody would have recorded something by now.

How convenience they haven't, and that the one camera is not here till the weekend, will never be mentioned again. Nah, I'm sure this isn't fiction at all, guys. And then the OP replies saying, it's true. It does look weird that I don't have any photos. But remember, that this happens late at night,

past midnight, and this person has shown their, smart enough to avoid detection. I'll have a camera setup tonight, so if they come back again, I'll get some evidence. And of course, you guys will be the first to see after the police. The next comment is actually a short chain. It's not that long, but it's too long to paste in, so I'll just summarize. If anyone wants to read the original chain, it's on the last post, but please don't treat this person like shit. Basically, they say that everyone is taking this too seriously for how little evidence I've provided. And that's a completely valid point.

I can't prove any of this right now, so why should you believe me? I probably wouldn't, honestly. Right now, the only evidence I have is what I've heard and seen and what my dad saw. Neither of which I can conclusively prove. I'm hoping to get some real evidence tonight. Until then, I suppose you're completely in the right to be skeptical. That's all. Since there was no knocking last night, I'm really hoping there won't be any tonight either. Maybe being spotted, scared the guy away. Who knows? I'll update tomorrow or the next day, depending on what happens.

Thank you all so much for your support. I've read some of the comments to my family, and we are also grateful for your help. It really means a lot to us. And then everyone in the comments is kind of saying, okay, cool, any updates that night? And sadly, the OP gives us zero solid updates from then on. Zero, even though he said he would. so I don't know what happened to the OP. So did the guy or the knocking guy

just stop showing up to the house? Possibly. And then another theory I think, which has actually happened in a past few Reddit threads where the police are like, hey, stop posting this online because this is an ongoing investigation.

So that's another theory because I have seen that a few times and a lot of the times for an ongoing investigation. They don't want the person just posting all the evidence online and that sort of stuff. So that's a solid theory. but we just have not gotten any sort of update ever since then, which I'm sad about because what the hell was happening?

I mean, it's terrifying that it was happening for three weeks, whoever this tall guy was knocking on the OP's door, trying to wake up the OP and nobody else. And who was this person? Was it just a deranged maniac? Possibly. Was it someone else wanting something more sinister or wanting someone to open the door?

Who knows? I mean, I really don't know. But this was a very scary and chilling Reddit thread. I mean, this was very, very weird, and I'm very, very sad that we never got an update. But what do you guys think? I think I'm going to crash the wedding of the woman I love. Yeah, can't really tell anyone about this. I just kind of need to do it.

It's selfish of me, but I have to. I can't live knowing I didn't. Context, I met Megan when I was 17, fell in love with her when I was 18, and started dating her when I was 20. She's my age. We went to the same college and then uni and met each other through mutual friends. She was a friend for a while and that's all I saw her as. And then I don't know. I just loved her.

It had been coming on so gradually I didn't catch it. And when I did, I swore I wouldn't tell her. I couldn't do it to our friendship. Lasted a year and then fessed up and we ended up going out because she felt the same. We dated for two years, a good fucking two years. It was the kind of love that people in those stupid movies had. I was obsessed with her. She was all I wanted, but we couldn't communicate.

It had been a tiny issue in our friendship that had been magnified when we got together. When she was pissed, upset, she wanted to be left alone. Not in the way where people say they want to be alone and don't mean it. She actually wanted to be alone. She's a very independent woman, and when I'm mad, I need to talk. We have to have it out, and she just wouldn't. I'd take screaming matches and broken plates over silence, over nothing, so I'd make the situation worse.

ramp it up so that she would be forced to have it out with me. It was making her miserable, and it was making me miserable. I tried to be like her and give to her the space she'd needed, but I was just fucking sick the whole time. I couldn't concentrate, and I realized that I needed her in a way she didn't need me. It wasn't healthy. I'd put her on the pedestal she couldn't meet. She got a job off or fresh out of graduation in New York, an English writing thing. We're from London. We both knew we wouldn't survive long distance. We broke up, mutual. It was rough. I went right up to the airport with her. It kind of felt like my heart was walking outside of my body. We knew if we were done, we had to be done. She blocked me, and I blocked her.

After six months of really trying to get myself together, I started dating again. I had girlfriends. I went to law school. In my last year, I'm 24 to 25 in a month. And I never heard about her again until two years later. It was really weird. I just bumped into her when I was a walk around Hyde Park. God, people, she's so beautiful. Even after all the years, she's fucking stunning. She dyed her hair back to brown, natural color. She was dressed different and, God, I just wanted to know her. She chatted to me. We were both free, so we figured we'd grab a coffee at a coffee shop. She's always cold. She kept her gloves and coat on. We talked for two hours. I went into the talk interested in friendship and walked away from it in love with her.

We talked about everything, work, her time in America, our friends, our families, old jokes, what we wanted from the world. It was like nothing had passed but it had. She was different. Her views had changed than what she wanted for herself had changed, but she was still Megan. I still loved her. She took her gloves off at the end, in the ring on her finger. Fuck. I asked her about it.

Couldn't not. She told me she met someone in America, nine months in. They'd been together a year before he proposed. A year? She'd always sworn she needed to be with someone for two minimum. I asked her about him. She said, he's nice and he listens to me. He makes me happy. He's nice. Chocolate is nice. A dog is nice when you describe the qualities of a dog. He partied ways. I unblocked her and she unblocked me. We still have many mutual friends, so once we let them know we're back on good terms, everyone started getting along much better, and her and I hung out. This started in May. It's October. I am in love with her.

I've tried to stop. I've tried to get with another woman. Sure, it works, and I care for them far too little than seems appropriate. I just want her. I've met her fiancé, Mark, maybe. I'm fucking biased, but Jesus fuck. You know how I'll describe him? Roy from the office. He's far too arrogant from what he has to offer, how he behaves around Megan, and how he behaves when she's not around is shocking. Yes, with her he's nice. Does listen to her.

When she's not around, he's loud, short. cocky, selfish, self-centered. And all her friends agree, but she just won't see it. I don't know what she sees in them. On October 1st, her and I went to a friend's house party together. Housewarming? She got tipsy, and I was on the DD. I was driving her home and parked in front of her house. Here's the following conversation. Damn right, I memorized it. We're here. I'll walk you to the door. I hate having an empty house. Where's Mark tonight? Watching the football at the pub. Ah, it's late.

He should be back. Doubt it. Would you like to come in? I'll walk you to the door. And then? And then I'm walking back to my car. Ever the saint, Julian. Hmm.

I wish you weren't sometimes. I wish you were the type of man who. Who what? Says the things no one else wants to. I usually do. No? then why won't you say it here? Say what? I don't know. Why aren't you the type of woman who says what she wants? Because I'm scared of what I want. What do you want? That's the question. And I can't answer

it for you. I know. I'll walk you to the door. Okay. And I did. And she goes, if you had just asked me to, I would have asked you to do what? Leave. Leave what? You're drunk. Yes. Good night. Night. And then I had to get a damn plane for a wedding and a funeral both in Italy, and I was gone for two weeks. Then I came back.

October 12th and realized she's getting married on the 15th. I've tried to contact her with no avail. Her friends say she's already at the cabin where she's getting married, and there's no fucking service. Like my wife isn't hard enough. So now what? I let that go. I get her go. I can't.

I fucking can't, and I don't think she wants me to. Isn't that what she meant? That if I asked, she'd leave him? She deserves better. I don't know if I'm better, but I'll try. I'm older, more mature than I was, so is she. If I leave tonight, I'll make it for the morning of her for a wedding. I have no other way to reach her.

I don't even know what I'd say, but I can't let her marry him without telling her I love her. Even if I lose her all over again. Better that. So I think I'm going to do it. I have to, right? Thanks, if you read all this. Okay, I enjoyed this short little love story, but it is very one-sided. And I actually had a completely different opinion on this before I read the Reddit comments.

And everyone on Reddit is saying, no, do not do it. And this guy is actually acting very stocky and being a stalker. And I don't know. And he's being very obsessed. Obviously he is. He's never stopped thinking about her. He says he loves her a million times over. won't move on. I think that is pretty obsessive and kind of scary for her, I guess. But I think this

is or could be maybe I misinterpreted it. Maybe I misread it wrong. But I feel like it's kind of a cool love story and could kind of be a movie almost. But I don't know. After reading all the Reddit comments, I assume that's how people think. And I kind of see their point that he is acting like a stalker. I don't think he should go through with it. I think that he should just really try, best to move on even though that probably rips his heart out he would really just try to move on i don't know i'm not a dating or like uh what's it called relationship specialist but uh yeah i think he should just try his best to move on and not ruin this guy's wedding and ruined her wedding um yeah i almost killed my stepmom this is pretty hard for me to post i've never talked to anyone about this even my wife doesn't

know the full extent of it, but here we go. In 2000, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was a two-pack-a-day smoker for about 25 years. She fought hard and was able to extend the short-life expectancy the doctors gave her. I'm not sure how long they gave her. I was 10. They spared me the details. Anyways, she survived for over a year and ended up passing away in February of 2001. I remember as if it was yesterday. Her best friend came to her. over the very next day as we were in mourning to pay respects and say goodbyes to her friend, which is normal and fine. The thing I felt weird about was that same night.

The day after my mother's passing, she spent the night with me and my dad. She slept on the couch. At the time, I didn't think too much of it. Had other things on my mind, obviously. Plus, we had numerous family and friends coming by and sleeping over before her passing as well. so I grew semi-used to it. Time goes on, and it seems every other night she's sleeping over. Within the first months of my mother's death,

she's finally sleeping in my dad's room with him. During this time, she was respectful and nice. She brought her two youngest kids a lot as well, which was nice at the time. Fast forward three months. We ended up moving, and she and her two kids end up coming with us. By this time, they are already talking about marriage. which I strongly protested, along with every single family member of mine as well.

They decided to ignore me and everyone else and get married. The same year my mother passed away. At first, things were the same as they were, but as time went on, she began to show favoritism to her own kids, which I guess is understandable, but to the extent that it grew was kind of disturbing. She'd let her kids get away with murder. They would tell me, make fun of my dead mom, Mom. Through Ash Trays at me yelling, your mom wants a hug. She was cremated, so pretty much anything

with Ash was fair game to use to fuck with me. A year goes by in the new house and me being a skater kid, I frequented the skate park a lot. On my way back home one day, I ate shit, bad, hit a crack in the road on a very steep and large hill. I was probably going in excess of 20 miles an hour. The board stopped, my body flew, then rolled a few more feet. I was bare, barely able to move but managed to hobble back, cradling my arm like a baby, and screaming at the top of my lungs the entire way home. As I'm walking up, she intercepts me in the garage and accuses me of overreacting and tells me the quote of, stop being a little pussy. I knew there there was something wrong with my arm, considering I was physically unable to

move that at all. But she wouldn't listen to me, and my dad wasn't home from work yet either. For hours, I waited for him to show up, and when he does, it turned out my essence. SM had already talked to him, so he wouldn't listen either. I think SM is stepmom. The next day was a school day. I remember this because I was awoken by my stepmom, little crean of a son, throwing my full backpack onto my chest to wake me up.

I woke up screaming. Stepmom comes running to the room and promptly tells me to shut the fuck up. You're not hurt. Stop faking because you're going to school. Well, I couldn't stop. I was in agony. I was still holding my arm like a baby, so she punched my bicep.

in the fashion friends would i guess you could call instead i'm taking your dumb ass to the hospital just to make sure you feel stupid when they tell you nothing is wrong well upon seeing the doctor he almost immediately says yep your shoulder is broken i can tell by the way your arm instinctively supporting your arm as m was silent doctor set up x-rays turns out my collarbone was completely shattered proved her wrong but it only fueled her rage more it seemed she became spiteful took away all my skateboards, bikes, anything that I could ride. My arm was in a sling anyway, so it wasn't like I could use them anyways. But she had no intent on giving them back to me.

In fact, she gave them to her own son. Even my own dad said it was for the best because I've shown to be irresponsible with them and can't use them correctly. Only thing I was able to do was play video games, barely. Considering my arm was completely bundled up. Another few months ago by and my arm is healing up good and we all go on easy hike in the desert

we find and pick up some wild cactus apples excited and eager I start eating one with the help of my dad turns out there were little mites in the fruit and I contracted scabies half of my face swells up in the most morbid of ways I couldn't talk right

couldn't open one of my eyes I was fucked up my older sister that I just realized I haven't mentioned at all yet in this post, came to visit me with my two nephews. Drove three hours just to hang out with me and see how I'm doing. As soon as she sees my gruesome, swollen face, she screams in terror, grabs her kids and leaves. Needless to say, it made me feel like more shit, but I understand.

She calls my dad, urging him to take me to the hospital, but stepmom refuses again, saying it's not that bad and that all I need is a nice, warm washcloth. Well, two weeks go by, swelling is reduced. but not completely gone. Sister threatens to call the cops if they don't do something. So stepmom again tries saying she's going to feel dumb when it turns out to be nothing. Well, this time doctors say at this point, they can't tell what it is. Skabies was the most likely considering these symptoms I'm told,

that I should have been there two weeks prior when I couldn't open my eye. Stepmom takes this as a win. More time goes by, more shit happens with stepmom. CPS is called and I'm interviewed. Nothing happens with that. holidays were ruined by her kids yet i was to blame i ended up basically being the cinderella of my house at this point my bed was even moved into the laundry room one year the pipe burst in my room flooded up to eight inches nothing was done about that eventually when i was about 14 years old i worked up the courage to tell my dad

what i thought about her and how she treats me well i guess by this time he was so tainted by her that it began talking like her he said get over it She's not mean. You're just trying to antagonize for the sake of drama. I told him if that's how he feels, then I'm moving out to live with my sister. My sister agrees and I move out. Life was good for a bit, till I started missing my dad. I felt like I failed him, so after two years living with my sister, I decided to move back in with my dad. Almost on arrival, my stepmom starts her shit all over again. Comments like, great, more unneeded, doctor visits or no skateboarding, don't want your sister calling the CPS again. It was actually my aunt that called. I found out years later. On the day before my 17th birthday, I will never forget the

words that came out of her mouth. I was getting breakfast and made a comment on how the house was starting to reek with a cigarette smoke smell. I'll admit at this point I was a bit snarky, but I said it to myself. Stepmom wasn't in the room, but she heard me all right. She storms in and tells me, if you don't like it, then go back to your sister's house. Or did she kick your whiny ass out, and that's why you're back? I snapped and told her to fuck off and to commit S word. She walked up to me and looked down at me. She's a good foot taller than I am.

I'm pretty damn short. And says, you do it. I fucking dare you. I stare at her in disbelief and she just starts laughing. Fucking pussy, you're weak, just like your mom. At this point, I have a death grip on my fore. with every intention of sticking it in her throat, but I don't. I keep quiet and continue eating my breakfast.

That was the first of many comments about my mom. Seem she took a page from her own kids that used to say they very similar insults. Only thing is, she was supposedly my mom's best friend. I call her out on this and she tells me to fuck off and die. Because of the years of mental abuse, I become depressed. S-word was on my mind a lot, and she knew it. She egged me on, telling me to say hi to my mom in hell when I get there. She would get drunk and say the most horrible things, like,

I hope Satan makes your mom put cigarette butts out on your face for eternity. After a while of this, I made a, I can't say this word on YouTube, but he made a rope to commit S-word with, measured the rope, and tied it to a wooden beam on my ceiling. One night, I tried to commit S-word. The wooden beam above me broke, and obviously I survived. I took this as a sign that maybe I'm not the one that needs to die. Eventually, I end up finding my dad's gun after a few days of snooping in this room when no one was home.

I hit it in my room and kept telling myself on repeat next time she's blind drunk. Well, a friend came over one night and we began talking about. I told him I was fed up and that I had a plan. I didn't go into details, but he's a smart person. He was able to figure out what I was planning pretty easily. He began crying to me. He pled for me not to go through with anything and to move back into my sister's house. This went on for quite a bit, but eventually he talked me out of it.

I showed him the gun, and he snatched it so fast and took off out of my house and down the road to the lake. He tossed that motherfucker as hard as he could into the water. Somehow seeing that made me feel better. Anyways, I realize this is pretty anticlimatic, but after that, I just ended up moving back in with my sister. No one in the family has any contact with my dad or his wife anymore, and at this point, I think that's his choice. It's been over 10 years since then.

I've moved across the country to numerous different states. I've made a career and name for myself. I got married to my dream girl, and we have the best little girl together. things could not be better last i heard stepmom's two youngest are in rehab centers and stepmom had a massive heart attack that almost killed her surprised me that she even has a heart karma i'm guessing anyways that's my life laid it all out in its poorly written glory i'm sure some people won't buy this but i honestly didn't put this here for anyone else other than myself so it's no skin off my back

take what you want from this whole thing as you will i'm just glad to get this off my chest one way or another and grateful that I had an amazing friend that was able to help me out of my darkest places. And you know, at the end, he really outlined two very important things. There is always a lot at the end of the tunnel. Your life can always get better. I mean, it looked very bleak for him at one point, trying to commit Esward himself and then trying to murder his stepmom. I mean, two horrible things that presented opportunities to him, but he got through it. He got through the bleed time. He got through the bad time. And if you're going through anything even similar or not even similar, but even no matter how bad it is, how depressed you are,

how bad or horrible of a situation you are in, you can get out and there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. And also the second thing that he outlined was talking to somebody. He talked to his friend and his friend saved his life because he would have been in prison for the rest of his life. And so, you know, that's two very important things that I just want to outline. Talk to somebody. If you're going through something, please talk to somebody. I've said it in multiple videos beforehand. If you have nobody to talk to, reach out at the email. My email in the description of this video or in my about section. But yeah, you should never resort to any of these extremes. And there is always another option. So if you're in a situation like this, just keep going.

it will get better and talk to somebody because that can definitely, you know, make your situation a lot better and alleviate a lot of the stress on your shoulders. I've been diagnosed with a terminal disease. I haven't and don't want to tell my friends and family. What up fam? Long time lurker. Don't know why I'm posting this. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's that I'm tired.

You know, really, tired. So here's my story. Some months back I was hospitalized with pneumonia and I spent a week in the ICU. My bloody lung had collapsed. Long story short, I'm in my 30s. Always been pretty fit. One of those annoying assholes that loves to get drunk and run marathons the next morning. But landed myself in the hospital and after extensive tests, the docs found I had scar tissue on my lungs.

My family and friends came to see me. but at the time, nothing really serious was discovered, you know, besides a deflated lung and pneumonia. I hate when people worry, so I tend to downplay anything serious. Now, fast forward a few months. After lots of scans and tests, I've got pulmonary fibrosis.

Basically, my lungs ain't so bueno. It's still in the early stages, so I don't have to be on oxygen yet. But this is it for me, kiddos. Never thought I'd go out because of my lungs. Always figured it would be a heart attack or getting stabbed by a tweaker in an alley. What's funny is, I'm not really mad about it. People talk about fighting disease.

I've been in plenty of scraps. I've taken life. I've seen life taken. This isn't like that. Not at all. When it's your time, it just is. I feel like a fraud, a liar. I know people around me can,

tell things aren't okay but i don't want to talk about it you know i've seen too many people die too slowly what happens to people around them is agony i've always been the strong one but right now i feel pathetically weak i hate being dishonest everyone around me has so much shit going on they don't need to deal with this too so i'm telling you my digital compatriots that gaze into this digital ether I'm a coward, but that's okay. My negligence cost my partner her life, and I'm about to lose everything. I 35 male have been married to Lisa, 28 female for three years, together for seven years. A year ago, I fell deeply in love with Amy, who's 24, and had been planning to end my marriage for her.

I know it's terrible and not what my wife deserves, but we were the real thing. Two weeks ago, she had an allergic reaction when we were getting food after work, but she used her EpiPen and seemed mostly okay afterwards. She usually gets checked at the hospital after a reaction, but I asked her if I could take her home and she could get her friend to drive her there because my wife was expecting me back. All I know is that she had a secondary reaction that evening and died. I didn't even find out about it until the following Monday through a work email. It has been eating me up ever since, and I will never forgive myself for not sacrificing an hour of my time to possibly save her. I sent some childish messages to Amy when I didn't hear from her over the weekend because I thought she was angry. I didn't take her to the hospital.

I'm thankful she never saw them and ashamed that I assume the worst. Our relationship was great and the highs far outweighed the lows, but I have always hated being ignored and I lose my cool when it happens. It is not a regular occurrence, and I would have more than made it up to her. Yesterday at work, HR and legal were in the CEO's office all day, and my manager ended up canceling our project meeting because he was with them all afternoon. I was on edge, but an affair isn't exactly a corporate crisis, and I thought something would have already happened if anyone knew. I'm now 99% certain it was about me.

A few hours ago, I received a message from Amy's phone which said, this is Amy's brother, Tom. I want you to know it was me. I tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail. And none of my messages have been delivered. I tried to call my manager more times than I should have, and he sent a message saying, Please don't contact me until Monday morning.

I can't discuss anything with you right now. So it looks like my universe is going to collapse. I'm going to be fired, and my wife will definitely find out why. All I can do is hope that Amy's brother only showed them the messages from that weekend, and they were bad enough. I have no family except my wife and daughter and nowhere to go. All my friends are either people I've met through my wife or my colleagues. On Monday, everything I've spent over a decade working towards disappears. I can't stop it. I can't talk to

anyone about it. So here I am. I know cheaters are the devil, so I'm not expecting sympathy, but this is making my chest hurt, and I need to get it out there. And now let's see. get into some relevant comments. Someone says, you need to tell your wife before someone else does. You already betrayed her. Don't make it even worse. And the OPE replies saying, I won't know 100% until Monday morning exactly how much my work knows. And there is a sliding scale of how bad this will get depending on how much he has given them. If it's everything, my wife will be crushed. If it's only the messages from the weekend she died, it can be much gentler. I don't want to hurt my wife more than absolutely necessary. And then someone else says, wow, you are something else.

And the O.P replies saying, one thing I will not apologize for is trying to minimize the damage to my wife. She doesn't deserve any of this. She's been wonderful and our daughter is my entire world. I know that my reputation is going to be ruined, but I don't need her or anyone else to know the bad details. My message history with Amy undermines the last year of her marriage in fundamental ways and it would absolutely end her. Someone else says, you deserve everything that happens from this point out. To be this heartless to a woman you made vows to

and share a child with is so disgusting. And the O.P replies saying, all I can say is that I didn't get to decide who I fell in love with. I would never hurt my wife deliberately, and I will do anything I can to minimize that hurt now that is inevitable. And then another commenter says, your wife is going to be shattered, no matter what you do.

I get the sense you have no intention of being honest with her, and I'd caution you against that. She deserves your complete honesty now, despite the fact that you didn't give it to her at any other point. Also, I wouldn't bet on Tom hiding anything to protect your reputation.

And the OPE he replies saying, this is my problem. If he knew what to look for, he could end almost every relationship I have. I've lied to everybody to protect my relationship with Amy, and there's basically a daily time line of the whole thing reflected in my messages. People I work with are friends with my wife, and I can't have her knowing everything because it would break her. And if she was vindictive,

I could truly be left with no one. Another commenter says, this has nothing to do with minimizing the damage to your wife, but to yourself. Don't disguise it as anything else. And I do agree. And then the OP says, I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it. I've been scrolling through my messages with Amy and it just gets worse and worse. I missed family events to be with Amy and I'm concerned that my wife may actually become violent if she finds out about one of them. Another commenter said just for the heck of it. What was the family event? And then the opier replies saying her sister suffered a stillbirth and I couldn't make it to the service because I had committed to attending an event with Amy months in advance. I know it's bad. And before we move on to

more comments, I just have to say, Jesus Christ, this is a horrible situation all around. I mean, I feel so, so badly for the O.P.'s wife and his daughter who have been lied to for who knows how long, months, years even maybe. And the O.P. missed a funeral to go hang out with this lover and to have an affair with. Like, God, that is just so heartbreaking on every level. But, But let's move on to more comments. Someone says they probably know everything or enough. They could be looking at your work correspondence, emails, instant messages. Plus, she likely had no reason to delete anything from her phone and hide previous messages

and calls like you may have. And then the OP replies saying, that would be the worst case scenario. I felt very anxious throughout the affair because I'm not a naturally dishonest person. And I've taken that out on Amy by messages a few times. I also secured her a promotion and our messages make it clear that it was solely because of our relationship. And just, Jesus, it just keeps getting worse and worse. I made some comments about the promotion on the weekend she died and if anyone looks back, they're going to pull a thread that could make me look abusive without proper context.

That is a major concern, especially with my daughter involved. I've also told some large and hurtful lies, which would be exposed because the messages make it clear where it actually was at certain times. This is what would hurt my wife the most. Just, oh my God, this is just getting worse and worse. Someone else says, did she report to you? Or did you just use your position to secure a promotion for her? Purely based on your relationship and not her merit?

And then the OPE replies saying, her manager is my direct report. I joked a few times in intimate conversations, how she still owed me for the promotion. And when she had initially asked about it, I sent her a message with a pretty comprehensive list of reasons. I didn't think she was ready. She thought that was so I asked someone at my level to put a word in.

Over the weekend, I basically said that she was underqualified for the role and wouldn't be able to survive doing it anywhere else. I'm horrified, but I thought she was being petty and playing games, so I responded in kind. And then the commenter also says, Oh, so you may actually be catching charges as well. The OP then says, I don't think I'm in legal trouble. But morally, I definitely am.

Someone else in the department had applied for the role. And arguably, they were more qualified for it, although neither of them were really. I ensured that they received a good pay rise afterwards in a key role in a very desirable project. And there's evidence of me advocating for that. They will likely be moving into Amy's role now, and we've always had a good relationship. But I understand that they're going to be extremely mad, and I will be apologizing as soon as possible. I just have to take whatever abuse they want to throw at me. I know I deserve it.

Someone else says, someone that wants to rain hellfire on your world is in the position of texts that can be argued to prove a situation of coercion in the workplace. I would not rest easy, O.P. Your bosses are already working out how to protect themselves and the company y'all work for. Enjoy those figurative bus wheels.

Bro still thinks he can somehow keep his job and be in a position to do anything. And I do agree with the commenter. Like this looks horrible for the OP in every possible way. He looks like he's going to lose his job, lose his wife, lose his daughter, everything. I mean, it does not look like he's going to get out of this. I mean, rightfully so. And the OP replies saying, I will not be keeping my job if any of this comes out.

I've spent company money on my relationship with Amy and there's a year's worth of evidence. Jesus. I've spoken at length about my incriminating things. And I have told her that her job was at risk a few times when we argued. Oh, my God, it just keeps getting worse. I've suggested I will blacklist her across our industry, which is what I'm particularly worried about. Once, because I believed she had told someone we work with about us.

The text chain shows us resolving the issue, and we apologizing, I am under no illusions as to how serious this situation is. Someone else says, minimize the damage to your wife? The one you said you were going to leave? Are you still going to leave? I'm desperate to know. Somehow I doubt it. The OP then replies saying,

People can have amicable divorces. And that's what I hoped to achieve. Amy is the only woman on earth I would have left my wife for. It's selfish and awful. But my wife is 99% perfect and Amy is 100%. I understand how terrible it is,

but I don't know what leave my wife would have solved in the knowledge of this relationship never came out. I couldn't have writ to my family, apart for nothing. And I can't, like, this is crazy. I can't even comprehend everything this opious saying. Like, I feel so horrible for the wife. Like, imagine she reads these threads and reads what the opi is saying about his wife. Like, this is just disturbing as all hell. Someone else says, curious, what was the 1% Amy had over your wife? Was it her ruthlessness in pursuing a married man with a young child? Was it her complete lack of

moral compass, was that the fact that your garbage soul recognized her horacity as equally trashy? And the O.P. replies saying, they're both incredible women, but they couldn't be more different. When my wife walks into a room, it's like a hurricane strike. Everybody sits up straight. She's tall and assertive and extremely intelligent. She's funny and quick, and she dominates in a male-dominated industry

where they all love her. She's very straightforward, and she can be far too blunt. Amy was softer. She didn't have to be the smartest or the strongest or the most well-read person in the room. She saw her job as a job and she wanted to raise a family somewhere cozy. We were going to grow tomatoes in the back garden and keep chickens for eggs and as pets. My wife would have designed an automated hydroponic system and signed us up for a subscription for a local egg coop. They're just different people who touch different parts of my heart and my mind.

in my initial thoughts after reading that like this is all alleged this is just me theorizing but like it seems like the opi likes being able to control amy does that make sense like he's saying his current wife is a lot more assertive she's straightforward she can handle her own so to say but then amy just kind of does what he says which is very disturbing as well like do you guys agree with me on that but that's kind of all legend that's just me theorizing um that's not true. That's just me. What I'm thinking, but that seems to be the case there. He's like, well, Amy didn't have to be the smartest or the strongest and I can kind of move around, which is also something that is proven in the earlier text threads with him saying, oh, you have to do this to

keep your job. So he's kind of just wanting to control Amy. That's pretty messed up. Someone else says, is that why he cheated on your wife? School emoji three times. You couldn't handle your wife's intelligence and confidence? Okay. well, I'm not the only one who thinks that. And then the Opie says, they were some of my favorite things about her. I've always admired her strength and determination. I feel like I'm really two different people

and they both want two different things. Sometimes I need a partner who is soft and sweet and who needs me to take the lead. And other times I need someone to come in and take control and organize everything and be the loudest voice in the room. The decider was ultimately that I loved Amy Moore. I knew it.

in my core someone else says tom has real olena tyrell energy true king's shit realistically i can't blame him his sister is dead because cheating mccheater face over here had other things to do he can't have him rested but he can't otherwise ruin his life opi the absolute worst thing here isn't losing your wife family job or support system it's living with your guilt best of luck And then the OP replies saying, I don't expect this to change your opinion, but she kept reassuring me that everything she was feeling was normal for her attacks

and that there was nothing to worry about. We had a long-standing agreement when it came to my home life. I had committed to leaving by the end of this year, but the cost of that was that I had to be extremely careful when it came to us spending time together so I could gently extract myself from my marriage. My work schedule is extremely regular,

and if I'm not home when expected, it's a conversation. By the time she felt better after she used her EpiPen, I was cutting it close already. The hospital is a half-hour drive out of my way. So at the time, it felt like at least an hour, and probably a few more if I had to check in or stay with her. Obviously, that all feels so stupid now that she's gone. I'd have shouted about us from the rooftops and told my wife then and there if it could get her back. The guilt is indeed the worst bit.

Another commenter says, the fact is that if you genuinely cared about your wife, you would have been honest with her from the beginning. You keep talking about sparing your wife's feelings. And I'm genuinely confused why. Because I'd imagine finding out that your husband is leaving you and destroying your family because he's in love with someone else is one of the most painful things that can happen. No matter how gentle you are about it, it doesn't change the facts of the matter. I'm getting the impression he was never going to leave his wife. And then the O.P replies saying,

I didn't know the finer details, but I had made a commitment to leave by the end of this year, and I intended to keep to it. My intention was to pull away from my wife gradually and eventually mutually decide to separate. Obviously, that's not happening now, but I want to minimize the harm to her as much as possible. Someone else says, just admit your wife aged out of your preferred bracket, so you went shopping for a younger model. The OP then replies saying, My wife is more beautiful now than she was the day I met her.

She is ferocious and vibrant, and she is going to find a man who's charismatic and social and who earns a ridiculous amount of money. That's kind of a weird thing to say. And she's going to make him deliriously happy and occasionally wonder what she ever saw in a sad little man like me. My daughter will probably prefer him. The age gap is a coincidence.

Amy and I were simply soulmates. This is getting weirder and weirder as we keep going down the comments. I know this is a lot of comments, but these comments perfectly illustrate his thinking and how things are playing out. Another commenter says, What I don't understand is why you didn't call your wife and say a colleague needed running to the hospital and you'd be straight home after. This feels like it never needed to have got to this point.

You were so paranoid and careful. You forgot how normal people respond to things like this. And the OPE replied saying, You're right. There are a million things I could have said. We had a pretty strict agreement that my time with her would never infringe on my time with my family. And all I can say is that my head went straight to that instead of where it should be. I had no idea a secondary reaction could happen.

If it did, this would have never happened. I would never knowingly risk her life. Someone else says, You've literally already said you missed a funeral for a baby to go to an event with your mistress. Don't play like you've never sacrificed your family time before. SMH. The OP then replies saying, Ironically, that agreement was the reason I went with Amy.

She had asked for one full day and night together each month. And my requirement was that it was booked well in advance. I canceled the first two, and this one was make or break as we were fighting over something else at the time. There was a lot of context, but I stand by my decision. Wow. Just wow. He doesn't even say he regrets.

it. I stand by my decision to miss a funeral for a baby. That is very telling of who this guy is. He continues saying, obviously, my wife wouldn't understand that perspective and I didn't expect her to, which is why I don't want all of this to be dragged out in the open. Wow. And then someone else says, what were the messages? The opi then replies saying, there are too many to even think about. We've had a few very nasty arguments. I've threatened her job, accused her of sleeping with colleagues, spoken badly about people we work with, spoken badly about my wife and family, talked at length about how we can disguise our dates as company expenses, everything. More, I've basically admitted to sabotaging someone else's promotion and acknowledged she wasn't qualified for the role I secured

for her, and I've held it against her a few times, although the messages also show us resolving much of this and I believe there's growth over the year. Not that anyone will be looking for that. Basically, it's extremely bad. My wife is friends with the people who will be investigating this if my work actually has access. And then the final comment on this post is, if you don't get fired for the affair, you'll probably get fired for misappropriating company expenses, which you'll then have to explain why in the end result will be the same. So here's hoping. And the OP replies saying there is a strong culture of fudging expenses in the business, and I have plenty of evidence of that. I know exactly how much I've spent because it was all under the same account name, which I can also prove.

So I believe that offering to pay the money back will be sufficient. Obviously, if I no longer have a job, that will be difficult, but all I can do is offer. I don't think that is going to be a legal issue, but yes, I will definitely be fired if they know what I think they know. Jeez, man. And then the OP gives us an update post. Update. My negligent cost my partner her life, and I'm about to lose everything. In the post reads as follows.

I've been consistently harassed for an update since posting, so please take it. Globe because you're such wonderful people in comparison. Then stop following me around Reddit. I'm suffering in the wake of my infidelity and unprofessional behavior as I knew I would. I understand that it is an appropriate outcome. and I'm taking full accountability. I was suspended from work on Monday, and I'll probably be fired sooner than I thought.

I'd hope to be able to save money as HR built their case, but it looks like Amy's brother basically performed the entire investigation for them. After an excruciating three-hour run-through of everything they had, I spoke to the founder, and he recommended the solicitor I am now using. The issue is that the company has to come down hard to protect themselves, because even though Amy's family doesn't have much chance of a claim, any suggestion of a cover-up would cause damage regardless.

The founder still thinks my offer to pay them back will keep it out of court, and some more information has come to light. So it's not certain I won't be prosecuted, but I'm quietly hopeful. I can't afford to keep the solicitor if this goes on further, especially with a divorce on the horizon. And things are not good with my wife. I'm still committed to making this as easy as possible, for her but I had to draw a line when it came to my daughter when I got home from being

unceremoniously escorted out of my office she already had a bag packed for me she wouldn't let me wait at the house until my daughter was back she wouldn't let me check I had everything I needed she wouldn't let me take the car and she didn't care that I had nowhere to go I spent two nights in a hotel that went back when she refused to let me see my little girl she tried to stop me but we own the house jointly and it was my my only option. My wife has family she could stay with, but she won't leave our daughter here, and she's absolutely not taking her. So we're at a stalemate right now. I'm keeping out of her way as best I can, which I can appreciate is the least I can do. The Amy situation is quite difficult

to talk about, and a lot hasn't sunk in yet. It turns out that she didn't love me as much as I loved if at all. Her brother sent me images of her talking to her friends about me, and it's hard to believe they came from the person I loved, but they are real. Sorry to those who were heavily invested in me being a predatory abuser, but she and her friends had a good laugh about her manipulating me for money and a promotion. The role came with a big pay raise, and it looks like her plan was to treat it as free cash, then go to work with one of her friends when it fell through. She knew I'd come under scrutiny whenever she messed up and assumed I'd keep stepping in to save her. She was right. Obviously, I am completely humiliated.

I was planning to give up everything to build a life with her, and she was treating me like a joke the whole time. Wow, what a change of events. My feelings are complicated, so please don't feel entitled to any expansion on this, but I no longer feel guilt over her death. Wow, that's crazy. That's just fucking crazy to say. But I no longer feel guilt over her death.

Like, I don't even have words. This guy is just crazy. This is the craziest Reddit thread. I've ever read this. Like, he doesn't feel guilty for his death, even though he was technically responsible for not bringing her to the hospital. It's like, dude,

even though she didn't love you, you can still feel guilty for not saving her life. It's like, oh my God. This is crazy. Let's continue. Reddit acted like I kept her hostage while she begged for help. What actually happened was that I asked if she could ask her friend

to take her to the hospital because I had to go, home. She said that was fine because she needed to get some clothes back from her anyway, and I dropped her off as normal. Ultimately, she was an adult who had a better understanding of her medical needs than I did. I still don't know what happened to doing us saying goodbye in her death, but whatever it was, it had nothing to do with me. I'm sorry for her family's loss, but I bear no responsibility for her passing. After Amy's messages to her friends were passed around, a few people quietly reached out with words of support. I assumed everyone would write me off like Reddit did as an abuser. Now it's clear that Amy was using me. They see me as a fool who had

then lost it all. It's beyond humiliating. But I have learned I'd rather be pitied than despised. And it improves my legal position with work. There's still mercies, but I'll take what I can get. I remain filled with regret, and I will have learned many lessons by the time. time I get through this. I may have been deceived, but I am a grown man who made my choices, and I take full responsibility for them. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, I think it was clear to most of us that you are being used. You certainly are not the first guy who gave up a wonderful life for the ego boost from a young, ambitious woman, your poor wife and daughter, still putting your needs above theirs. The Opie then says, my daughter is my absolute

priority and will continue to be. I will do anything to make this as healthy and painless as possible for her. My wife tried to weaponize her, and whilst I'm willing to give her a lot of latitude in the situation, there have to be boundaries. Another commenter makes a comment, quoting the O.P.

When the O.P said, I was planning to give up everything to build a life with her, and she was treating me like a joke the whole time. And the commenter replies to that quote saying, dude, read what you wrote. You're willing to give up everything to be with Amy. Everything including your daughter.

Don't try to play the role of a good father. You lost that when he cheated on her mother. DOP then replied saying, I would have. And I will. I will have 50-50 custody of my daughter. That is the default in the UK. And it is completely appropriate because I've always been a 50-50 parent.

And then the comment to reply saying, even when you were lying and sneaking off with your 10-year junior affair partner, Is that when you were a 50-50 partnering? What a joke. OP healed so quickly he was on the adultery sub three days ago. Hope all of this is fake because no one can be this self-centered. And then the OPE says, did you even read the post? And then the comment to reply saying,

Why are you so obsessed with what Amy told her friends about you? I thought your priority was your daughter. Stop wasting time trying to understand Amy's intentions just because your fragile ego has been torched. And then the O.P replies saying, I can focus on the future whilst having questions about things that have already happened. I can't imagine what a black and white world you must live in. The woman I was planning a life with died.

And I found out she betrayed me throughout the entire relationship. How could anyone immediately accept that and move on with no thoughts or questions? And then someone quotes the OPE again when the OPE said, I no longer feel guilt over her death. And then the commenter replies to that saying, Sheesh. the woman you plan to spend your life with? Good grief.

Completely agree with the commenter there. Then the O.P. says, I can assure you I haven't healed one bit from any of this. My life is in shambles. The fact that she has died is not going to rob me of my right to be angry with her. I ruined my life, but she was right there with her hands on the wheel. She talked to me about getting married and having more children and what her house would look like. and in the same day she called me names

and plotted with her friends about having me get her a credit card I hold her my hopes and fears and she mocked me relentlessly for them I thought she was my soulmate and she exploited me in every way you can imagine how the fuck am I supposed to feel and then someone says affairs can cause emotional trauma on children

how selfish to subject your daughter to trauma just to get your de wet your wife is not weaponizing your daughter she's protecting her against you You're not the victim here. Don't act like one. Your wife and daughter are the victims. And then the O.P replies of that saying,

She's five years old. If she notices anything is wrong, then we have both failed as a parent. Children are adaptable and they can easily be kept away from situations that should exclusively be dealt with by adults. And before I read the rest of his comment, that's just not true. How is a five-year-old? I mean, yes, that is a little kid. But even a five-year-old's like, hey, why isn't daddy and mom

hanging out anymore. Why is dad not here? Why is mom not together? Like, do you think the kids just can be like completely oblivious? They might be for a little bit, but then soon enough, they're going to be like, hey, why haven't we eaten a family dinner in a while? Why hasn't dad and mom been hanging out watching a movie with me? Why haven't they this and that? Like, that is completely delusional and just false. Kids are very observant. Like, literally, when a kid is that young, that is the most observant they ever are and they're learning the world around them and you just think they're not going to notice that their parents aren't living in the same household anymore that is just completely crazy to say but then the opi finishes that by saying my relationship with my daughter does not have to suffer

because of the breakdown of my marriage my wife does not get to protect my daughter from me when i have caused her no harm we are completely equal parents under the law regardless of whether fathers have rights on Reddit. I honestly can't believe that a father not walking away from this child is controversial. Regardless of what you think of me as a person, it is not in my five-year-old daughter's interest to have one of the top three people in her world disappear suddenly. And then another commenter says, quoting the OP says, the founder still thinks my offer to pay them back will keep it out of court. And then the commenter says, so did you steal money from your company on top of abusing your authority at work? And then the OP replies saying,

My expense account largely funded my relationship with Amy. It wasn't unusual in the company we worked at, but now there's a potential scandal. They're suddenly shocked and appalled by my actions. What do you mean they're suddenly shocked? Like that is a crazy thing for a person to be doing, spending company money on private dates that aren't company expenses. Like, of course they're going to be shocked. Another commenter says, good for them. How much are you talking here?

Hundreds? Thousands? And then the OP says a few thousand uncomfortable, given that I don't currently know exactly when my income is going to terminate, but I'll get it back to them. And then a commenter leaves a lengthy comment saying, I had the same question. So you believe they will be digging through your expenses

and asking you to repay any expense related to your relationship with Amy? FWIW. I'm not going to behead you. Obviously, what you did to your family was brutal to read. And as a woman, I feel for your wife. I'm also old enough to know that life is mess. and complicated, and the heart can lead you to make bad decisions. I'm assuming your life over this past year has involved tunnel vision, and all you saw and all you could see was the

happy life you'd have once the dust had settled. Amy isn't without fault, as she not only knew you were married, with a child, but unlike you, not led by her heart, but her selfish desire to get what she hadn't earned, promotion or money. I think that after everything that's happened, you should let your wife take your daughter, with an understanding. that you'll have visitation. Your wife's entire world blew up with one phone call, and she deserves the space away from you without leaving her daughter behind. You owe her that much, and you've acted in your own self-interest long enough. Give the woman some peace. And very good comment by that commenter, I do agree. And then the OPE replies saying, thank you for this. I was willing to leave my

home as long as visitation was assured. Unfortunately, my wife is taking things hard enough to want to keep me from my daughter, and it's the one line I just can't see crossed. Now, there's clearly no trust on either side, so I can't leave my home for the foreseeable. A hotel was going to be unsustainable anyway. It would rapidly eat at my savings. I don't blame my wife for being angry and petty, and wanting to make me as uncomfortable as possible. In terms of my expenses, I disguised them all under the same client, so they're very easy to identify. It was primarily to hide the evidence of my fair with my wife. It didn't even feel like stealing, so I didn't go to great lengths to hide it. We used the expense all kinds of things. The culture around it was terrible. I realize that's no

excuse. I haven't been asked to pay anything back. I offered two as soon as this all came to light. The company may be prosecuting me, but I've engaged with a solicitor, which greatly increases my chances of keeping this out of vote of the courts. It's all still very early days, so what happens next is up in the air. Thank you again for sharing your very sensibly. thoughts. And then someone else says, dude, get out of your wife's house. Stay with a friend. Find a studio apartment. But don't do her like this. She doesn't deserve it. You can't scream about visitation being kept from you when you're not even making an effort to move out. You're very clearly doing this to keep your wife under your thumb. And it sucks. It really, really sucks. And then the OPE replies

to this saying, it's not her house. It's ours. and I want her to keep it, but right now, it just can't happen that cleanly. I've behaved horribly, but that doesn't magic me up to a place to live whilst we figure this out. My income is clearly about to stop, so I can't dip into savings that maybe needed to keep us on top of our mortgage. Real people have complicated lives and just go out, doesn't cut it. I was prepared to leave in the immediate aftermath and find a way to make it work out of

respect for my wife. But I quite simply will not be kept from my child. and I make no apology for that. Wow. I don't want her under my thumb and never did. She's going to town on me and quite rightly. She sees me as a pathetic idiot who is taken in by a young woman trying her luck and she reads the things Amy said about me aloud every day. She's right. The things she says about Amy are almost cathartic. The thing she says about me less so. She's hurt and angry and trapped and it's all my fault. I hate what I've done to her more than anything else. about this situation.

Another commenter says, honest question, how stupid are you? You funded your liaisians with your mistress almost entirely with company funds. You put all over your defrauding

in writing in one of the most difficult to fully delete forms of a communication that there is. I mean, you didn't quite jump onto your boss's desk and yell,

I'm committing a crime, but yeah, you might as well have. And then the opi replies saying, all I can say is that side of it doesn't feel serious until it did. I planned to leave my wife for Amy, so our messages were never a concern in the

company culture around expenses was to milk them for all they were worth. It's no excuse, but none of it seems like it would collapse in some madhouse of cards scenario. And God, I mean, like, I just, it's so, he's so obviously so dishonest. I mean, it's like, milk the company for all their worth. And he expects to keep his job? It's like, of course your company's going to fire you. if that's the way you're treating your company's funds. Of course, they're not going to want to keep you around if you're acting like that, let alone all the other things that he's done. I mean, this is just a mind-blowing thread. Another commenter says, you gave your wife two days.

Two days to absorb and try to understand everything before you demanded your parental rights. To understand not only that you cheated, but that the affair partner is now dead. You might be responsible. you embezzled company funds, you could be sued by not only your employer, but the affair partner's family, and you could go to jail. To understand that she's not only lost her husband,

but her life as she knows it, that she might also be financially ruined by your actions, that the health and welfare of your daughter will be impacted by your actions, that any dreams of the future of your family are all gone. You said that you wanted to minimize the impact on your wife, but the moment you didn't get what you wanted, you decided she was the bad guy.

That's actually a great point. I completely forgot about him saying, I want to minimize the damage. And then he goes and does this. That's fucking crazy. The commander continues saying, you decided that your wants again or more important than anything else.

How could any parents who cares one iota about their child think that leaving them in your custody would be safe? Because you said so. The whole world knows the value of your. word. You are a stranger to your wife. What woman would leave their child with a stranger who is a liar, adulterer, embezzler, verbally and financially abusive to their affair partner and potentially responsible for the affair partner's death? It doesn't matter what you say the situation is different, as there is no value in what you say now. Your actions will impact your daughter,

even at her young age. Something this big and horrendous will not remain a secret. and will follow her throughout her life. You have lost your daughter simply because of the stigma of having an awful parent who could do all these things. People are not kind, even though a child is innocent. You should actually do something right by your family and leave. You being there is not good for anyone, especially your daughter. And then the OPEA replies to this honest comment saying, If you think I'm giving up my daughter because my wife's feelings are hurt,

you must be crazy. That's not how real life works. Oh my God, the nerve on this guy. Like, oh my God, I just feel so bad for the OPE's wife. So, so bad. I can't imagine having to deal with someone like this. He continues saying, I made it clear that I would keep communication purely around my daughter,

and then I could pick her up and drop her off without my wife, even having to see me. There are consequences to my actions. and there are consequences to hers? I am prepared to give up a lot during the split, but access to my daughter isn't on the table. Hold up. He said there are consequences to my actions,

and there are consequences to hers. What are her actions? She's done nothing. She's completely innocent in this entire situation. Like, I'm genuinely getting worked up reading this. Like, this is fucking wild. And then a commenter even says that and asks that same question, saying,

what actions did she commit that deserve consequences? Okay, at least we're going to answer. The OP replies saying, I left my home voluntarily because it was the right thing to do. My only stipulation was access to my daughter. My wife denied that. So I went back. I had one hard line and she crossed it immediately. I understand what I have done and I acted accordingly by leaving the house I own jointly, not insisting on taking the car I own outright, and committing to,

to remain invisible to my wife until she is ready to either talk or proceed directly with the divorce. I was completely willing to do all of that because I am in the wrong here and there's no question of that. The only thing I can't tolerate is being kept from my daughter because she doesn't deserve to have her father ripped from her life. By trying to keep me from her, my wife destroyed a lot of goodwill that objectively benefited her. Now we go forward on that basis. Wow. This is just insane. And to be honest, that is the last update the OP ever gave us. No more comments, no more posts, no more anything.

But it looks like he's going to lose his job, get divorced with his wife, and possibly lose his daughter. So this guy lost everything very fast. Well, to be honest, in my opinion, deservedly so. but I'm just to add a loss of words for this. This is literally one of the craziest threads I have ever read. He turned from a guy saying, I'll take responsibility to taking zero responsibility

and even saying he didn't feel guilty about her death, even though he was arguably the reason for her death, not taking her to the hospital. Just a wild, wild read a threat and just truly disturbing. I catfish married men. Throwaway account. A little background to what started all of this. I started dating this guy two years ago. We were dating for a month before I decided to do a deep dive. I found out he was married, and his wife was seven months pregnant. I ghosted him and sent all our messages to his wife. They

ended up staying together, but six months later, I still saw he was active on dating apps slash Reddit. I sent those to her, and she filed for divorce. So for the past, two years I've trolled the adultery slash cake eaters slash R4R forums on here looking for some of the vilest posts to see if I can connect with the men in hopes of outing them. Most of the stories these men posts are either fake or played up to make them look like they are being successful. It's pathetic to be honest. But once I have enough information to tell them the truth about what I've been doing, the begging starts. The more they beg and plead for me not to ruin their lives, the funnier it is to me. All of them have offered to pay me not to see.

send info to their wives. One guy offered me $10,000. I was shocked at how far they were willing to go to not get caught. You'd also think that this process would take time, but it's usually only a couple days, with some pictures exchanged and they are eating out of my hand. The longest I took on one guy was two weeks. He was being extra cautious, because surprise, this was not his first time cheating. My total count so far is 24 men. The wives' reactions have been a mixed bag. Some decide to stay and work it out, and a couple ended up just blocking me. Out of the total, eight of those women were pregnant.

I currently have three wives sitting on the information I sent them that they're planning to use in their divorce. I'm posting this now as an end of an era, as I'm getting into a serious relationship and cannot continue. Honestly, if you are moderately attracted, you can also do this. Cheaters, you are safe for now. But one day, you will come across someone like me.

Edit. It felt good to finally get this off my chest. I have not been able to talk to a single soul about this. I'm going to delete this account now. And I've already deleted my Caffish account. I think my boyfriend would be a little sketch that I put this scary amount of time into this. And even though this isn't inherently disturbing, I think it is just disturbing how many people who are in, you know, committed,

marriages to then go cheat on their wives and then, you know, offer $10,000 to not give up the information or for them to not give it the information of their wives. I think it's just a very disturbing how many people. And she said she did this for a short amount of time. And just like that, she just found so many people that are willing to just be unfaithful, I guess. I mean, that's just crazy to me. And someone says, all it takes is one fucking psycho and opia is chopped up and stuffed into a dumpster. Best advice I ever got. Don't fuck with other people's business.

Regardless how you view them. Their problems aren't yours. And I think that's a disturbing comment, but it isn't that far away from the truth. I mean, it is good that the OP, you know, kind of expose these unloyal men, but at the same time, yeah, I mean, some guy could get his life ruined and, you know,

go fucking berserk and do something irrational. So, you know, if you watch, this and get inspiration just a little bit of a warning and someone even says this this girl is playing some dangerous games and i kind of have to agree with them a very interesting post and this was a little bit different than the usual but interesting nonetheless my co-worker called in sick but i swear i saw him at a crime scene on the news so this happened last week and i still can't stop thinking about it i work at this small office and we're a pretty tight-knit group so when someone calls in sick it's usually not a big deal.

But my co-worker Mark called in on Thursday with this over-the-top dramatic voice, saying he had the flu and could barely move. I wished him well and moved on with my day. That night I was eating dinner and half watching the local news when something caught my attention. They were covering a robbery at a gas station a few miles from my place. The footage was grainy, but they showed this dude in a hoodie and a mask sprinting out of nowhere. He was tall, had the same build as Mark, and, the kicker, he had this distinct limp. Mark had twisted his ankle the week before. At first,

I laughed it off. I mean, what are the odds, right? But then they interviewed a witness who said the guy drove off in a silver car. Mark drives a silver Honda. I started feeling that weird mix of disbelief and, oh crap, is this real? The next day, Mark comes into work, walking perfectly fine. By the way, I casually asked how he was feeling and he goes, oh, way better. Just needed some rest. But here's the thing. He was weirdly specific about what he did while he was sick. Like, oh, I just laid on the couch, watching some Netflix, drank Gatorade, nothing exciting. Now, I didn't say anything because what do you even say? Hey, did you rob a gas station? But I swear every time I catch him glancing at me, it's like he knows I know.

The kicker? Yesterday, someone brought donuts to the office. And Mark joked. If I ever robbed the store, it'd be for these. Everyone laughed, but I couldn't even look at him. I'm not saying he did it. But I'm not saying he didn't. Wow, that is crazy.

I wonder if the O.P. Ever did confront the coworker. I mean, I guess not. But someone brings up a good point. Someone says, Mark knows you know and he is going to end you very soon Mark has nothing to lose

be careful O.P. Oh, that is a much that is a very ominous comment by someone. And then someone replied to this saying, I mean if the dude really did the robbery, then he has limits most of us don't share. So might he want to silence O.P. if he suspects he knows

desperate, scared people do desperate scared things. Not sure what I'd do if I was O.P. Maybe concoate, a scenario where he's investigated for the robbery without her name anywhere near it. That way she's safe either way because if he didn't do it, I'd speculate he's naturally less inclined to hurt people and if he did, he's gone. If I were the O.P.

And I didn't feel threatened by him, I would probably do nothing. If I felt threatened, I'd have to respond somehow. P.S., I think he did it. His responses and nervous jokes are classic, shitting his pants behavior in regarding the person, shape, car color, work absence during the robbery, his need to be detailed about his alibi during the robbery, etc.

There's no such thing as coincidence. He did it, and if O.P. feels threatened, she has every right to defend herself. Wow, that is, yeah, good point. I mean, I don't know how Mark would know if the O.P. knows, but maybe he's just getting the vibe and he's like, oh, you're on to me. But maybe not.

I don't know. Very interesting post, and the O.P. never posted again, so I really wonder if the O.P. he ever did confront the co-worker mark or not. I wonder. I helped get my predator uncle arrested and nobody knows who's me to this day. Only one other person knows this story, which I'm about to share with the world. I believe anonymously. I come from a pretty unsavory family and said uncle is a known drug dealer. He never hit it and would openly blow a couple lines in front of us as kids. He lived at home, so whenever my mom took us to stay at my grandfather's home,

I'd bum a couple of smokes off him. He never noticed, probably because we didn't visit it all that often and he was never sober. You'd think he would have had a lock, but he didn't. He was just bold as shit and he never hid what he was doing. On one visit, I had plans to go out for the night and wanted a little hit of something. He'd just driven off, so I went into his room to pinch some weed for the night.

His laptop was closed but switched on, and because I'm a nosy bitch, I opened it up. I had plans to visit a local park, so I wanted to find directions there through Google Maps. I went on Google and there was a adult video plane from a site I didn't recognize. Both people in the video seemed familiar, so I kept watching.

And the rest of the paragraph gets a bit too dicey for YouTube and too graphic, I'd say, but basically he keeps watching and in the video he sees a younger neighbor he actually knows. And it actually happened to be the very girl he was going to the park with that night, which is pretty crazy.

And he kept going through his uncle's computer and he saw files and hundreds of files. And he found thousands of cheese pizza photos. And then he continues saying, shocked with the discovery I had made, I waited until we went to the park to confront the girl. She confessed instantly, breaking down. She told me that,

it initially started because he promised her some money to buy a new phone, and then he began to threaten to post the videos online if she told anyone so she stayed silent. When I told her that the videos were already online, she cried. I had been mulling on this for the past few hours, and I told her my plan to report the crime anonymously, and for her to call in and share her testimony as a victim. She was game, and that's what we did. We told nobody. The police raided his home and found the laptop containing over 200,000 videos and pictures of cheese pizza, as well as a lot of drugs and an AK-47. She called in with her testimony and with my statement, he was arrested with a sentence of nine

years. He was let out after six years for good behavior and is now free. Wow, man. Six years for that. Are you kidding me? That is actually really upsetting. Six years, everything, I just 200,000 photos. Like, I have never even seen 200,000 photos in my life. And this motherfucker has 200,000 photos of cheese pizza. The most fucked up person ever. And he gets six years. Are you kidding me? Yeah, that is just upsetting. And the OP continues saying he got married to a woman from her home country who has no idea about the monster she raised.

He's now a benefits scrounger who fakes having anxiety to get PIP and claims universal credit. He also still sells drugs on the side. The girl was placed into witness protection and moved to a different city with her mother. We kept in contact for a few months after that and then she changed her number and we lost contact. I can't blame her for wanting a fresh start. I think of her often. I hope she was doing okay. Everyone in our family still talks to him as they think he has reformed.

He's visiting our home tomorrow. He also has no idea that it was me who discovered him and ratted him out. He thinks it was one of his drug rivals. He still puts his hands on me and acts playful and I have to act like I care about him. I am a 20-year-old woman now and I despise my uncle with every inch of my being. I will never regret what I did. Nobody knew my secret aside from his victim. and my once friend until today, enjoy Reddit.

And that is insane post. But God, it's just beyond upsetting that he got six years, nine years, whatever, but only served six years for number one drug offenses, but number two, all of those photos. And everyone in the comments agrees, the top comment literally is six fucking years for a person. predator. Fucking unbelievable. He should be rotting in a goddamn hole six feet under a landfill. And for 200,000 pieces of content, no less, it's shocking. And I agree. It is insanely shocking.

I thought if you were caught with that, you're going away for the rest of your life. But, man, man, that is just upsetting. Now we got only six years. But I mean, this is a very positive confession, in my opinion. I thank God the O.P did this and put her uncle away. even though he should have been away for a lot longer. In all the comments are praising OP, which they should. And yeah, I just lost a lot of faith in the justice system because, yeah, six years, nine years for that. You kidding me?

200,000 pieces of content. And whatever else this guy was charged with. Who knows what he did to any sort of victims? Who knows? But yeah, that's a very disgusting post. but thank God the OP did that and the OP never posted again it's deleted account now so hopefully I just have to wonder if the uncle saw this somehow I doubt it but still it's like did the uncle see this and he's like oh well now I know you know does the OP need to be put into

witness protection who knows but I would definitely be a little bit wary if that was the op but very interesting post I was very successful as a child but I lost it all all and now I have nothing. When I was 14, I was a pretty big YouTuber. I had around 1.8 million subscribers. My channel was blowing up, and I was making a lot of money. Some months, over $50,000. It was my dream and I was actually living it.

I'd made tons of close friends from YouTube. I was well known in the game I played, and for the first time in my life, I was genuinely happy. But the thing is, I never really saw the money. My narcissistic mom was in control of it all. She told me I was too young to have a bank account and that she'd take care of it for me. She gave me around $1,000 a month,

which, yeah, sounds like a lot for a 14-year-old, but when you're making 50 times that, turns out, instead of saving it for my future like she promised, she was spending most of it. When I turned 15, things started falling apart. My mental health completely deteriorated. I developed anorexia and ended up hospitalized. My channel became impossible to keep up with.

I stopped posting for almost a year, and everything I built just started to disappear. Then when I finally wanted to come back, I made a stupid decision that basically ruined any chance of reviving my channel. I tried downloading Adobe software for free. Yeah, dumb, I know. I got hacked, and the hacker posted. and the hacker posted some graphic content on my channel. I got permanently banned. And instead of contacting YouTube right away, I just gave up.

I was so mentally checked out that I didn't even care at the time and told myself I would deal with it later. When I finally tried to appeal months later, YouTube denied me. I tried everything I possibly could to get my channel back and nothing worked. My mom had spent most of my money, but she left me around $100,000. I had to literally beg her for over a year to give it to me. But like an idiot, I blew it.

Car, addictions, very bad decisions. It turns out my mom was right all along. When I was 19, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and started drinking a lot. Now I'm in my 20s, completely broke, completely alone, and I feel like a fucking loser. I know I'm stupid. I know I made horrible choices,

but please don't judge me too harshly. I wasn't in my right mind, and at the time, I didn't care about my future because I wished I was dead. I couldn't see past the moment I was in, and I just let everything fall apart. I think about my past a lot,

how much potential I had, how I literally had it all at 14, and how I just let it slip away. I don't know how to move on from it. I peaked as a teenager, and now I have nothing. If anyone's ever recovered from throwing their life away, I'd really love to hear now,

because right now, I don't see a way forward. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, if you could be that successful at 14, you can do it again in your 20s. Use your life story in an interesting, compelling, and positive way. I agree with that. Someone else says,

Hi, O.P. I had 7 million followers on my channel. Got hacked, too. I'm from Philippines. And I thought my life was over. But I didn't give up. I moved on, graduated college, and continued with my life. Yes, we had some good followers before, but life goes on.

It doesn't stop just because we lost that channel. I have my own family now. and also started my channel from the zero followers to almost four million followers right now i also bought multiple properties because of that channel had 500 million plus views last year 2024 i created my channel when i was 16 got hacked when i was 19 i'm now 26 years old it was tough to deal with for real but promise it will be worth it just keep going and uh yeah i mean that's what a lot of the comments say just keep going you can't turn it around it can get better and i have to to agree. I mean, I have a channel that's pretty successful, but I haven't gone through anything

of what the O.P is mentioning with her mother stealing all the money. I mean, I can't imagine that's so tragic. And I just hope the O.P can learn and move on. It's very unfortunate the OPE blew the $100,000 because that could have been a great starting point for starting another business or just investing it or just saving it or as a great, you know, emergency fund or whatever. but it's unfortunate she blew it and I just have to say you know get up keep going keep moving on because yeah 20 is still very young

and you have a lot of life to live you don't need to give up now and you didn't peak at 14 your peak is still in the future on to the next one I hit rock bottom last night after years of gambling I really need to get this off my chest

and hear from others who've been through it hey everyone I'm 22 years old and I've been gambling since I was 18. I've never really told anyone the full story, but after what happened last night, I feel like I finally hit my breaking point. It all started when I first went to the casino with my friends at 18. I put down $50 and somehow walked out with $1,000. The next day, I did the same thing, another $50 into $1,000 on roulette.

At that age, that kind of win felt unreal. I got hooked. For a while, it didn't seem that bad. I'd go maybe once every week or two with my mates, only spending it around $50 each time. I was working at a Korean barbecue place, so I always had a bit of spare cash to play with. But over the years, it started to spiral. When I was 19, I got into sports betting, and that's when things got really bad. I lost every single dollar I'd saved for a trip to Asia.

The trip was only a few months away, and I had to pick up another job just to make sure I didn't disappoint my girlfriend. That guilt and stress nearly broke me. I told myself I'd learned my lesson, and for a while, I stopped. I went a few months clean and built my savings back up around $6,000, but, of course, the moment I felt safe again, I went back. I started winning again at first, and that false sense of control came flooding back in. Then last night happened. I lost everything. Around $14,000.

That was all the money I had saved. I work and support worker now. And I'm at a point where I barely have enough left for fuel. I'm so depressed and full of regret. I keep replying every moment wishing I could go back and make different choices. What makes it even harder is pretending everything's okay. Having to smile in front of my girlfriend when all I feel is guilt and shame. Trying to hang out with friends and act like I'm fine when deep down I feel completely empty.

It's exhausting trying to keep up with the act when all I want to do is disappear for a while. I know I'm still young and that I can rebuild, but right now it just feels unbearable. I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want to keep living in this cycle of losing rebuild. and destroying myself again. If anyone out there has gone through something similar, how did you recover? How did you rebuild your finances and your mental health after hitting rock bottom?

Any advice or even just hearing your stories would mean a lot right now. Thanks for reading. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, one of the worst addictions, brother, my father, rest his soul, was a huge gambler for most of his life.

Good man, bad habit. Very bad. He kicked it when he was around 60 but died at 65. The amount of shit that he went through and put my family through. Sheesh, you wouldn't believe it. Just stop gambling. And go to gamblers and omnibus if you need to. It helped pop.

Someone else comments saying, Since almost nobody here has given you actual advice, let me do it. You lost $14,000, which is a lot of money. It's so much money that you feel like you hit rock bottom and probably feel a lot of sadness, anger, guilt, and shame towards yourself in this whole situation. You can't undo the damage that you've done to your own mental health and financial situation, but here's what you can do. Learn from it. It's the least you can do, and here's how. Number one, start sharing. Start talking about what happened with the people you trust with your life,

parents, girlfriend, siblings, close friends. This will help you with your mental health and clarity, which you need to start rebuilding. And that's what I always say in these videos. Whenever you guys comment or email me with confessions or you're struggling with something, I always tell you guys, please talk to somebody because it does make it better. And then the commenter says,

number two, look for professional help. You're an addict and you need to protect yourself from yourself. This is not something an addict can do by themselves, so you need help and guidance. You don't have to do this by yourself and realizing that will make you feel so much lighter. Number three, start financial rebuilding. Financial stress is horrible.

Once you start saving money again, you'll feel proud and happy. It's a present and it means you're back on track. Go to meetings and keep talking to your loved ones, especially when you feel some kind of urge. Make yourself proud. Stop surviving and start living. And then the final comment I'll read, someone else says, Nobody wins a gambling, bro.

Nobody. and I just have to agree and emphasize that last tidbit. Nobody wins in gambling. You just can't win. You're just chasing a win that doesn't really exist. And if it does, it exists for 0.000,000,000,000,000, 1% of people. And even they lose. So just not even worth starting.

And if you, anyone watching, are dealing with gambling issues, please seek help. And also, I just have to advise against gambling. It's never been easier to gamble. back in the day, you'd have to go to a casino or go to a different state to gamble. But now it's as easy as pulling out your phone and gambling on this or that or the other thing. And I think it's truly terrible in a horrible addiction that a lot of people are suffering with right now. So if you are watching and going through gambling addiction, please seek help. It's not worth it. You will only lose.

Yeah, it's just a slippery slope. And I wish you all the best if you are suffering with gambling addiction. I took some bandadryl and it has forever completely changed me. I should have known I'd end up here. What started as a way to sleep a little easier turned into something that's taken over my life. I started taking banadryl a while ago just to help knock me out. But over time, it stopped being about sleep. I started taking more and more.

I liked the way it made everything feel distant. like I could turn off my brain. I've talked about it before, as some of you have read. I told myself I was in control that I could stop whenever I wanted, but that was a lie. I've been hospitalized now. My body couldn't keep up with what I was doing to it. I was hallucinating, disoriented, a shell of myself, hearing my dead mother, seeing the hat man, feeling trapped in my own skin.

The doctors told me I was lucky to even make it in. Lucky. That word feels weird when you're strapped to a hospital bed wondering what the hell you've done to yourself. Even now, even after everything, there's still this part of me that wants to go back to it. It scares the hell out of me. I feel like I've rewired my brain

and now I can't find the way back to normal. I don't even remember what normal feels like. I have no one to talk to. Maybe just to get it off my chest. Maybe because I feel like I'm screaming into a void and hoping someone hears me. I don't want to be this person. I want out. I can't keep going like this. I have seen things I can't explain and things I don't know how to explain like smells, creatures, and I felt like I've been floating in a world beyond. my understanding. And now let's get into the comment.

Someone says, it's a nightmare drug. And at least one user from this sub died this year. You need to stop now. It's a delirium. It's not fun. It's only addictive and highly dangerous

and the trip sound awful. Please. Please seek help. And then some comments saying, well, I'm glad Benadryl makes me feel itchy, so I stay away from it. And then some people share their stories. Someone else says, long-term Benadryl use has been linked to dementia in old age.

So I'm glad you're getting some help with this. Please, stay safe. Best of luck to you. And then a lot of the other comments share their own stories with Benadryl and how it's destroyed their life. And I have some unfortunate news, I think, because I went to the O.P's profile. And the O.P. made one final point. post about seven months ago. And the post simply reads, I'm not going to make it. I'm sorry, everyone. And yeah, I just saw that final post and I'm, I don't know, just shook me. Because I

don't think the OP made it. And the OP only made the post of the, I took some Benadryl and it has forever completely changed me, responded to some comments, and then made that final post. about a month later from that post that we just read and saying, I'm not going to make it. I'm sorry, everyone, with one upvote. And yeah, I know I said it, but it just shook me because I don't think the O.P did make it. I don't know why the O.P. would lie.

Obviously, this didn't get attention. And I think that's what makes this feel so much more eerie and sad and depressing because the O.P. saying, I'm not going to make it. I'm sorry everyone got one up vote. nobody saw it. Like it feels like he's speaking directly to me or to everyone watching, you know.

Yeah, very eerie and very sad. And I just, I hope the O.P said this for whatever, whatever reason. Hopefully the O.P was just in a state of delirium and said it. And it wasn't truly his last post before he passed. But who knows? This is the last we've ever heard from the O.P. And I can only wish the O.P. and hope he's still around.

But yeah, this one really, really shook me. I'm having an affair on my wife. Ten months ago, I made the worst decision of my life. I decided to be a stay-at-home dad. Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter and I love being with her. But it has completely ruined my relationship with my wife. I can't fully explain my wife's shift in demeanor towards me,

but it's like she has lost all respect for me as a man. We've only had intimate time one time since our daughter was born because she always says that she's not in the mood. We've been together for the better part of a decade, and she's never acted this way towards me. Even while she was pregnant, she didn't treat me this way. I've tried to talk to her about it, but she says that she can't change how she feels. For these reasons, I've been feeling pretty emasculated. So as the title says, I've been having an affair. The woman I'm having an affair with is one of the moms in my mommy and me group.

I've known her for six to seven months now. But we've only been doing this for about a month. I honestly don't know what the fuck I'm doing and I don't know where I'm going to go from here. All I know is that she makes me feel respected and makes me feel good in a way that my wife doesn't anymore. I want the relationship between my wife and I to return to what it was for her. previously. But even if I went back to work and she started treating me with respect again, I don't know if we could ever go back. And now let's get into some top comments. Someone says people here are trying to get to the root cause of the issues you and your wife are having.

No one is pointing out that you are having relations with another man's partner that has just started their own family. Dude, this is so wrong, so, so wrong. You're destroying yours and another family. Stop it. Also, stop blaming your wife for your decisions. She makes you feel emasculated. You don't cheat on her to start feeling like a man again. You talk or go to therapy.

Then all else fails you leave. From one man to another, don't do this. It is shitty. It makes us look bad. Act like a real man and stop whining and get out there and do something about it. something that preferably doesn't destroy another family. And I can't help but agree with the commenter here because, yeah, he's not only destroying his own family, but also someone else's new family. I mean, that can really cause a lot of damage that is very avoidable.

And then I went to the OP's profile and saw that he made an update on this situation. And the title is Update, I'm Having an Affair of My Wife. I made this post sometime in February. A couple of weeks after that, I post, I came clean to my wife about what I was doing. It was difficult, but we eventually worked it out. I immediately ended my relationship with the other woman. We went to counseling for a while. I went back to work and I suggested that our daughter going to care, but my wife insisted on taking care of her.

The counselor was actually really helpful. I expected her to just tell me that I was the only one in the wrong, but she was actually fairly understanding of what both my wife and I needed. Anyway, since then, we've been doing much better. We have intimacy on a regular basis. We've been going on dates, and we found out last week that she's pregnant again, which we're both really happy about. We're obviously going to handle it very different this time.

She's still staying at home with her daughter, and she will be staying at home with this child too. When I made the last post, things were looking pretty bad, and I really didn't think that we'd recover. But for the last six months, things have been back to how they were before, I was a stay-at-home dad, better even. And I mean, that's a great update post because I feel like we get a lot of sad posts in these confession videos. And this one had a bright end and a good ending.

So that's great. And a good testament to how if anyone watching is going through something like that, there's always a light at the end of the tunnel and you can get through anything. When I was 16, I took my family pet to the vet, found out he was terminally ill and never told anyone. I'm the eldest of four kids and a family of six, and growing up we had a beautiful albino chinchilla named Dusty.

Dusty was an awesome little pet to have as a kid. Very sweet. Never bit anyone. Love to cuddle and run around digging tunnels in the bed sheets. He had this really big cage in our guest bedroom that was connected to my room, and every time someone would walk past his cage, he would run to the gate hoping to be taken out. If you open the gate, he would just hop right into your hand. Anyway, great pet. So about three days after I got my driver's license as a 16-year-old,

I noticed that one of Dusty's eyes were tearing a little bit, which I hadn't seen happen before. Feeling like a brand-new adult with my new driver's license, I decided to take it upon myself to bring him to the vet and see what was up. So I put him into a brown paper grocery bag with his favorite blanket, made some air holes, stapled it shut and strapped him into the passenger seat of my family's van. Fast forward maybe a half hour and I'm sitting in the vet's office holding dusty,

feeling like the most responsible adult ever. The vet is an exotic animal's vet and takes a look at him that asks to do an x-ray. So she sedates him a little, does the x-ray, hands him back to me and leaves the room. Adult level 9,000 as I sit petting him until he wakes back up. So the vet comes back in and sits next to me on a little bend, in the checkup room and starts petting him in my lap. She's telling me how wonderful he is and how lucky I am to have such a great little pet, asking me my favorite memories of him, all this.

So we are talking and finally I ask her something. Like, okay, so how much do chinchilla eyedrops cost because I've got to get going and she smiles gently saying something like, I wish eyedrops could fix this? She gives me a hug and starts to explain. Dusty was not bred responsibly. It had some kind of internal deformity involving the roots of his teeth, putting pressure on his eyes and brain. This would eventually cause an early death. I couldn't believe it. I remember starting to cry and putting Dusty back in his grocery bag with his blanket and asking if the vet had a stapler I could use to close it again.

I paid cash at the receptionist for my babysitting money and got into my car crying all the way home. When I got home, I sat in the car for a while in the garage trying to gather myself as Dusty chewed on his bag. Looking back, I'm not really sure why, but in the car I decided not to tell my car. family the news. The vet said Dusty wasn't in pain despite him tearing eye and we wouldn't have to put him down. She didn't know how long exactly he had left, but guess maybe a year. I guess I figured I didn't want my family to be sad every time they played with him or passed by his cage knowing his time was limited. I wanted the rest of his little life to be normal. Eventually, I brought him back into the house and put him into this cage. I went later that day to Petcoe and bought rodent

eye drops as a cover-up and proudly told my family that night how I bought Dusty to the vet to check his eye and lied saying the doctor gave me eyedrops and told me eye irritation is common in chinchillas. Dusty lived three more years after that, two years longer than the vet had expected. He passed away just shy of his 10th birthday. On the morning he passed, I told my dad what had actually happened at the vet. He told me I was so much more of an adult than I knew. for the deaths of several people. Around four years ago, I was a vendor on the dark net. It was a relatively short-lived thing.

I was just doing it because I was too lazy to get a job, and at the time didn't want to settle for the 9-to-5 thing. I wanted to start my own business and use the drug money as a startup. I'd been using myself for years, along with that. I met lots of people with the dealing scene, and eventually started dealing myself. I have a lot of anxiety, though, so I hated meeting up with people in parking lots,

and I definitely didn't want anyone to know where I lived. That's when I read about the Silk Road, and Ross Ulbricht being caught. Got obsessed with the idea of it. Got obsessed with learning O-P-S-E-C. All with the goal of eventually using my connections to start up my store. Well, after a couple of months I did, I started my store with three drugs,

ketamine, meth, and some outdoor weed my buddy was getting for super cheap. All was doing good for a few months. Had a couple thousand got stolen and an exit scan, but I had about $25,000 saved up at that point, so it didn't ruin my life like a few vendors I knew of. Eventually, I met a local connect that came into his town only once a week, but he had fucking anything I wanted. Mesklin, LSD, mushrooms, PCP, even, and fentanyl. At the time, people weren't really cutting heroin with fentanyl. I mean, I'm sure people did plenty, but it was not nearly as commonplace now.

People just did fentanyl and still do. I put all my dresses into an Excel spreadsheet along with their name, zip code, order, along with the amount. At the time, I was selling some super white powdered mescaline. The fentanyl was also a white powder. Very similar consistency. Long story short, my Excel fucked up, or I fucked up. And about seven people's mescaline orders were filled in as fentanyl orders. They all went out.

I didn't notice and kept doing my thing for a few days. After about five days, someone contacted me and told me their friend died from my mescaline. I immediately called bullshit and went to check my order log and scale up how much I had of my mescaline left. Well, I had about 11 grams or more than I should have. I still don't know how the fuck it could have happened. I wasn't a user, but I was definitely high off dabs. I went to check my order log on the market to see if anyone had finalized on their purchase

and a couple of them were, but none from a specific day. including the person that messaged me. No one that had purchased Mesklin that day had finalized their orders. The market I was on also had a feature to see the user's last activity, and none of them have logged in for at least three days. Most two days. I immediately deactivated my vendor account. I didn't even need confirmation.

I knew what happened. I knew I just killed several people. I sold the rest of my drugs, converted my Bitcoin to cash, and moved the fuck away. Didn't speak to anyone for weeks. Found a job in a restaurant, living in a city I always wanted to. I haven't touched drugs since that day. I haven't had anything to do with that life since then. I still think about them.

Every night. I saved their names and Googled them a few days later. I was able to find info on four customers that definitely died. One customer shared it with a friend. They both died. I don't know why I'm even posting this, mainly because I have no one to tell. And even if I did, I don't think I could. I spend my day sober.

clocking into work, clocking out of work, coming home playing video games, I'm a complete recluse. People I used to know have distanced themselves immensely, and I know it's because I'm a shell of my former self. I can't help it. Could I even tell a therapist about this? I don't feel like I deserve to be alive. Am I really living anyway? I don't even know anymore. Maybe this will help me feel better. I caught my mom, who I thought was an angel, having a fair on my dad. Now I can't stand her and see her for the sociopath she is. I grew up loving my mother dearly as most sons do. She was protective, kind, beautiful, successful, and smart, and was someone I strove to

be like when I was young. However, I wasn't seeing the side of her that is at her core, and within the past three years I have come to despise her. She is selfish, manipulative, two-faced in an overall bad human, which is a tough pill to swallow when I adored her for 25 years. It's weird how you don't really know your parents until you become an adult. This will be long and if just one person gets through it, then it was worth riding. I just need to get this off my chest.

My parents are in their late 50s. My dad is very successful, owner of his own business, and is an all-around good. guy, great father to my sisters and I, and is a way better husband than my mom deserves. They've been together since they were in high school. When in their sophomore year, my mom literally pulled a girl out of his Jeep and got him because she wanted to be with him, red flag. He is more passive and my mom is aggressive, obviously. Any honey-do list he got, he did it. Anything my mother wanted she got. His brother and I even always gave him shit for being so whipped. They went into over $90,000 in debt when I was 13 because my mom wanted a big house, Mercedes, and other crap

they couldn't afford at the time. We went on expensive vacations that she planned, we ate at nice restaurants, we couldn't afford, and the only thing my dad ever stood his ground on was that he gets to deer hunt with the guys three weekends a year, which my mom still bitched about being left out of. She has always had to be the center of whatever he does in his life, no exceptions. But that isn't what made me see her for her. who she was. Four years ago, my now wife and I were soon to be married. My mom suggested we all take a motorcycle trip one weekend. My dad and I ride together often with her old coworker. We'll call him James. She explained he was going through a tough time with his ex-wife and needed to get away. We'd go and

have a good time for a weekend, but it just felt weird. It was my mom, dad, and my now wife and James. The dynamic and overall vibe of being around my mom's old friend was strange. He was a nice enough guy, he was tall, handsome, rich and brawny. He had an ex-wife and two kids around my age, and he loved taking pictures of my mom and dad, which creeped me out. Anyways, nothing of importance happened on this trip, but my mom starts acting strange afterwards, and my dad and older sister are the ones who noticed it. At this time, I lived with my fiancé on the other side of the city, but my older sister was living with my parents because she was in grad school and was recently divorced after one year of marriage, found out he was an addict and spent all their money. One night,

night, a few weeks after our motorcycle trip, my fiance, sister, mom, and I went into an incubus concert. My mom was acting weird, wanting to smoke pot, down in beers. This isn't like her at all. And just being weird in general. It was like she was a whole different person all of a sudden. After being there for 10 minutes, she said, I'm going to go grab a beer and gets up and disappears for an hour. I went looking for her after she had been gone for 45 minutes, as I was concerned for her safety. And when I came back with no luck, I asked my son. sister if she's been able to get a hold of her. She rolls her eyes and goes, I didn't bother calling. She's probably calling James. What the fuck? She then drops a bomb and then tells me she and dad

suspect she's having an affair with him. She goes on to explain how sketchy she has been acting, doing things like changing her phone and an iPad password, stepping out for phone calls and whispering, even putting a fucking jar of rocks on her phone while she slept so she would be woken up if anyone touched it. I'm assuming, I don't know. and weird. My dad managed to look in her phone before she changed her password and quickly skimmed through her text with James and saw some suspicious cryptic dialogue. My mom finally gets back to us at the concert and at this point I'm pissed and devastated all at once. I ask her, what took so long? She didn't even have the beer she left to get and she says, oh, I ran into some old friends

from my old job at blank. Immediately sensing bullshit, what are the chances her 50-plus-year-old friends also went to see Incubus, so I ask who? She didn't expect this follow-up question, but slightly responds with, you don't know them. I then ask, well, what are their names? She's feeling the pressure and stutters before managing to make up some bullshit names. My wife and sister are listening to my interrogation very intently while Brandon Boyd is killing it in the background singing, pardon me. I get sick of her BS and drop it. I am livid and crushed and thinking of my dad. my sister had already gotten to the point of disgust I was at, so she didn't say anything, and we all kind of ignored it until the next day.

After this concert incident, my sister tells my dad what happened, and he finally approaches my mom about everything. He demanded to see her call history and sees a 45-minute call to James at the time of the concert, along with many others. He demands to know what the fuck is going on, and she says he is just going through a hard time with his ex, who was apparently debilitated from alcoholism. and she was just helping him get through it as a friend. Anyways, to keep any readers interested, I'm going to skip past the shit that could make this

the longest read ever. Basically, the sketchiness goes on for months, and at the time of my wedding, my dad has a tracker in their goddamn car, has requested call logs from the phone company, and is looking at hiring a private investigator. I still remember dancing with her at my wedding. She looked at me adoringly, and I couldn't look back at her. Little did my dad know, me and my love for my kayaking would soon give him everything he needed. A month or so after my wedding, I go to stay with my old college roommate for a weekend of

kayaking and fishing. He lived by my grandparents' lake house, my mom's parents, and I was going to pick up my kayak from their house that day. My dad randomly calls me just to say hi and probably tells me about whatever sketchy BS my mom has been up to, though probably not healthy. He is my best friend, and this has been our convos lately. I tell him that I'm headed to the lakehouse and he responds with. I doubt she would be this bold, but your mom said she was was at the lake house with her girlfriends this weekend, and I want you to be prepared if that isn't the case. If it isn't, let me know. I knew what he meant. I didn't give my mom a heads up that I was coming on purpose, and as I drive by, I'm relieved to see just her car and another girly-looking car

in the driveway. I call my dad before going in and telling my initial assessment is that nothing sketchy is going on from what I can see. Just looks like her and her friends are here. He's as relieved as I am. I walk up, knock on the door, and it's silent. The back patio doors unlock, so I walk in. The first thing I see is a leather motorcycle jacket hanging on one of the bar stools and immediately recognize it as James. My heart starts pounding and my adrenaline is pumping as my vision gets all weird and my ears start burning. A million questions went through my head in a second, like, are they here? Do they know I'm here? Should I announce myself? God damn it, mommy, you fucking cheating an asshole. I act fast, assuming they aren't there, but could be pulling up any minute. I take a

picture of the jacket. I go to the garage and sure enough, James's motorcycle is there. I take a picture of that and then run back in and see cell phones stacked where they are charging in the kitchen. I grab a phone and don't recognize. It didn't have a lock on it, so I immediately go to the pictures. First one is of two people I don't recognize, as well as my mom and James, and they're kissing each other on the lips. I scroll a little bit more and more of the same shit. I'm heart is pumping out of my chest at this point, and I take a few quick pictures of my phones in the phone and run out of the house, not even remembering or carrying what I had originally been there for. Something I should add here. When I was seven, my mom left my dad for a doctor who just

wanted to use her and drop her like a bad habit. And my dad reluctantly took her back after she begged and pleaded. She blamed the doctor at the time, saying he drug-slash-R-worded her some bullshit. My dad later told me that at the time, he told himself he was doing it for the kid, and had planned on leaving her after we graduated high school. But they did so well in between then and our graduations that he eventually forgave her and was happy in their relationship. I remember them being separated, but I didn't know the details until recently. Okay, so anyways, I peel out of the driveway at the lake house

and drive to a secluded street in the neighborhood as I try to figure out what the fuck to do. I let my heart rate slow a bit so I could think more clearly and then called my little sister, trying to decide if I tell my dad and if so how. Up to this point, everyone just had their suspicions with no solid proof. My little sister, who is the sweetheart of the family, agrees that he needed to call dad and tell him immediately because he deserves to know, despite how bad it will hurt him. I then called my wife and she agreed, but we were both worried what he would do.

I hesitate for a bit, but eventually I call my dad to tell him his wife of 25 years is cheating on him. When he answers, I just blurt it out. James is here. I have proof and mom is cheating on you. I didn't know how to put it delicately, so I just gave him the facts. He was in shock like me. He kept saying the same phrase over and over. No fucking way, God damn it. Insert my mom's name.

God damn it. Wow, such a bitch. God damn it. After the initial shock wears off, he apologizes that I had to be the one to see it and then says he's on his way. It's a three-hour drive and that he'll meet up with me at my roommates. I immediately call my uncle, my dad's identical twin, and my other best friend. And tell him what's going on.

I tell him I'm afraid my dad is going to do something stupid. He said he'll make sure he doesn't. They end up coming down together and meet me at my roommate's house. We talked for a couple hours and come up with the plan. They switched trucks with my roommate to go incognito because he must see it for himself. My dad promises he won't do anything stupid despite what he may see. He sneaks up there after dark, parks far away and walks a mile through the woods with his brother and a pair of binoculars. He hides behind some trees when he got in a place and sees them on the patio with another couple drinking wine.

They're cuddling and kissing like they're an old married couple and like what they were doing is not beyond fucked up. It took every ounce of self-control for my dad not to run over there and go insane on them. Instead, he did the smart thing, thankfully, and just took pictures of them and left. The next morning he cleared out their bank account, sent her the pictures he and I took along with the text that said, I know everything. I'm leaving you. I can only imagine what their reaction was like. I rest assured that the rest of their little getaway was quite stressful. The next year was a nightmare for everyone, and my mom's reaction to this solidified my disdain for her. She dragged everyone into her bullshit and made our lives a living hell.

My dad and I caught her red-handed. He just wanted her to go to James and let him live in peace. But instead she dropped James and begged my dad to take her back. My dad agreed to pay her alimony if she granted him a divorce without lawyers that would have drained them both financially. She reluctantly agreed. After the divorce, my mom cried every day for a year. She moved in with my little sister in an apartment she couldn't afford. She got on antidepressants and went into a downward spiral that, because we loved her no matter what, took us all with her.

All the lies she had told for a year began to surface more and more. Thinking back on that motorcycle trip where I spent a weekend with this prick made my stomach turn. I even bought the rich asshole a whiskey and coat. Though I despised who she was and what she had done, I was still very concerned from my mom and will listen to her sob on the phone and in front of me. She cried to my wife a lot, which I hated. This was my wife's first year in the family, and my mom was calling her bawling about how cruel my dad was being to her.

My mom blamed my dad's twin brother for almost everything, saying he had stolen him away from her on all our guy hunting trips, and he was the reason their marriage fell apart. She was truly manic. My mom's parents and brother were disgusted with her. because they loved my dad so much, and they refused to talk to her about it. So my wife, sisters, dad and I were the ones who got the brunt of it. She tried manipulating everyone to make us think she was the victim here. It made me sick. She tried to make it seem like she was the battered wife, and my dad had treated her badly. We all knew the truth, and I found myself despising her more and

more as a person. My dad, on the other hand, went full-blown frat boy with his newly found freedom. He's a handsome guy with money. And though my mom's reaction was taking a toll on him in every way, he distracted himself by getting on Bumble and banging a bunch of 30 to 40-something-year-old women, hunted every weekend, and went on Harley rides during the week to escape it all. My mom still doesn't know about the women and honestly, after being with the same woman for 30 years, being cheated on twice and having every aspect of his life being controlled, he deserved it. He needed to get it out of the system. Anyways, getting us more towards the present. My wife and I became pregnant with her first child, and the joy of it was completely overshadowed

by my mom's constant meltdowns. I couldn't even get them in the same room to tell all my family that they were going to have a new niece-slash-granddaughter. For 10 months, she relentlessly berated my dad for not being able to forgive her and used my unborn child, their first grandchild, as a pawn to get him back. She told him that it would be his fault if their grandchild grew up with divorced grandparents. It made my blood boil. After a while, and against me and my sisters and for my dad to stay strong, my dad caved and slowly started to get back with her. They sold their house and now lived together in a townhome. My daughter is 17 months old now, and my parents have fallen back into the relationship

of my mom dominating his life. Despite him trying to set strong ground rules this time, it's been like when a villain gets their power back after losing them. She went from weak and broken to manipulating everyone to her will like she has always done. My wife is shy, caring, and always worried to offend my family in any way, and my mom uses this to try and emboss her around when it comes to our daughter until I step in. She'll constantly play the guilt card about how my wife's parents see our daughter more when they live four hours away. Uh, yeah, you fucking psycho, they're good people. When I talk to my mom now, there's never loving my voice.

I don't want to hate her, but her flaws are so apparent. She's a sociopath who has to be in control everyone. We all love her despite this, but I am the only one who calls her out on her bullshit. My older sister barely speaks to her. My daughter is obsessed with her, and it makes me happy and furious at the same time. She doesn't deserve my dad, and she doesn't deserve our forgiveness, especially since this is twice now that we know about, that she cheated on my dad. Not sure how to end this.

Just wish my mom wasn't such a shitbag. I guess I'm thankful these events and my realization didn't happen sooner. Otherwise, I wouldn't know that there would good women out there, and instead I'd probably have a hard time trusting them. If you guys made it this far, thanks for reading. Edit, just want to thank you guys. I read through most of the comments and messages that range from This is Fake to Your Mom as an Asshole, to something sincere and relatable.

I tried to write it in a way that wouldn't bore people to death. I know everyone says this, but I wrote this expecting no more than a handful of people to read it at most. Sorry, it was so long. I did not expect it to be on the front of the time. page, thanks for letting me vent, and for responding with your own stories and thoughts on it. Felt good to get it off my chest. Y'all are awesome. We're rich, but nobody knows it. Sold our business this year, mid-50s, net worth now over $10 million USD. Our kids have no idea.

Teenagers, our siblings have no idea. Our parents are deceased. Nobody else knows except our banker. We live a low-income life, still shopping at Walmart and Target. At some point, we may buy a big, look-at-me-home on a Lake of River, like $2 to $3 million, because why not? But for now we're happy just being retired, not flaunting our wealth, and living in a quiet life, driving an old Honda and Toyota. We are minimalist, by the way, and love decluttering our home of material goods, good to just type this out for many internet strangers to see. can't and won't tell anyone else. Cheers. Creepy stranger won't leave me alone.

So recently, I just bought a house and everything seemed fine at first. All until one Tuesday I was backing up from my garage when I saw a guy leaned against a Toyota Camry staring my car down. I pulled my car out and roll down my window to ask him if he needs anything and he just says, No, sir. Have a good day. I then asked him politely if he could leave and he didn't respond.

He just stared at me for a good 30 seconds. I started to get out of my car and confront him, but as soon as he saw me go for the door, he got in his car and drove off. I was so rattled, I called in sick to work and called the police. They said I was probably being scouted for a burglary, which made sense. I had my brother-in-law come down and stay with him my wife to help comfort her, and I went to bought a ring camera set. after we settled down, everything seemed to go back to normal until Sunday.

I was watching the Chiefs Brown's game when the same man peeked through my front window and stared at me and started laughing. And holy shit, that is terrifying, dude. Oh my God. I quickly went to grab my gun, but when I turned around, he was gone. I called the police and they took the ring footage to try and track him down. Me and my wife decided to stay with my family until it's solved.

Everything seems to be normal, right? Well, then last night at 2 a.m., I get a call from an unknown number asking if I am home. I ask who is this? And they hang up. I notify the police, but they say there is little they can do. I really love the neighborhood besides this, and I don't want to quit my job, but I'm just pondering moving out of the state and changing numbers. I have a baby on the way and can't take my family safety for granted.

Is there absolutely any advice you guys could give me to help me? me guide through this? Thanks and God bless. And now let's get into some top comments. Someone says, ask the people you bought the house from if there's anyone bitter about the sale. Sometimes relatives or friends expect a free house or family discount, but it got sold. It could be unrelated, but it's possible he's doing this to move you out. I would at least ask the previous owners or their agent, and rule that out if nothing else. Especially if it was an estate sale from a death, and someone is emotionally tied to the property, but it had to be sold.

Most burglars scope out a house but don't usually want confrontation. This seems psychological. He wants you to know he's there. Do you have a friend with a big dog you can borrow? Ask a neighbor if they have a camera or a nest cam they can pull footage from to see him or his car from a different angle? Can the phone number he called from be seen on your, phone. Your phone company probably can't give you a name, but someone at the company might be

able to tell you if it's a burner phone. The behavior seems really concerning. Unfortunately, if this person doing this randomly is mentally ill, you're likely not going to get logical motives from an illogical mind. Call the police every single time. Ask if patrol can be increased in your neighborhood. Have your wife call because sometimes they're unfortunately more sympathetic to scared women. I'd get some motion-activated floodlights around your house. I'm sorry you're going through this. Not feeling safe in your own house is horrible. There's such a personal element to this, especially with your phone number being called. Can you try thinking to when you moved? And who would have access to your cell phone and go from there? New job? New house? Do you work

somewhere political right now? In elections, election software, or in some way linked to some crazy election theory? And then the OP responses to saying, Hi there, so I'll try and answer as good as possible. From what I understand, the previous owners were a young couple like us. I asked the neighbors around them, and they said they were so friendly and often held neighborhood parties at the house, but you might be on to something. When I bought the house, there was a boxing war between me and some other person. I will ask my real estate agent in the morning. Unfortunately, no one else has cameras to get potential plates. I was really hoping they would, so we would know the car and he could be tracked down.

I completely agree he wants to scare me, and for me to know he was there. I would love the idea of a big dog to borrow, but my wife is really pregnant, and I wouldn't want her to fall over it or for it to trip her. And that last thing you said made a light go off my head. Not going to brag, but my wife is a very successful businesswoman in the area who also holds a seat in our local district. We live in a military-slash-conservative-type town, and she ran as a Democrat, so that might have something to do with this. When I was kind of helping her campaign, I was just kind of slinging around my numbers, so you never know. Thanks for these ideas. I'll let you know what happens. Thanks. And then a lot of the other comments under this thread were kind of

copying the big thread that I just read, and sadly, the OP has since deleted their profile, so we can't get any other posts or see any of the posts or comments that they made, but we just never got an update. So hopefully they're all right because, I mean, that is just so scary. I mean, it's scary enough that some guy is stalking them. But for the guy to peek through his window and then laugh about it and also call his phone number supposedly or allegedly. We don't know if the guy did call his phone number,

but most likely, I mean, at 2 in the morning, some random guy calls and laughs and hangs up. That is very, very scary and very, very odd. But sadly, we don't know what happened. Because, like I said, the OP deleted the profile or their profile. So hopefully the OP's safe. Hopefully the OP's wife is safe. And hopefully they didn't have to move or do anything more drastic

because this stalker guy seems a little bit off his rocker. So what do you guys think? My friend keeps talking about this girl he met online. Something seems odd. My childhood friend, whom I've known since we were three years old, has had trouble organizing his life since the pandemic. After some setbacks, he managed to get back on track and start studying while working with his father. He told me he met a girl online while playing Plato, a game.

And I didn't think much of it because he always made his virtual friends. I stopped talking to him regularly for about three months due to my routine. When we resumed our conversations, he began to tell me more about this girl. At first, I was very receptive and believed them. This girl is from abroad, the USA. She skipped a few years of high school due to her intelligence. She speaks five languages. She graduated with the second best GPA in oncology medicine from Harvard.

She joined UNICEF and went on many missions around the world. All of this while being only 22 years old. She has a very rare blood type, commonly known as golden blood. people with this blood type are at high risk during surgeries, which led to almost all of her family members passing away. She moved to our city for a supposed job opportunity and because she'd been talking to him for a long time. I didn't believe any of this story, but he spoke with incredible confidence and sounded frantic. Every time I questioned whether he was joking, he assured me he wasn't. It turns out she got sick recently, which triggered a heart.

heart problem. So she's been confined to her home because she needs transfusions for some reason. My friend stopped going to work and studying and even quit college. He distanced himself from everyone and rarely responds messages. When he does, it's to talk about her. His supposed girlfriend he met online. He says that he needs to talk to her all the time because due to her condition, she is in danger of having a heart attack or something. Over time, he started saying stranger things. Like that, she was being harassed by people from the Plato community. These people would make fake screenshots showing him being unfaithful, and she chose to believe them. She made him believe that she had abandoned her lifelong friends because they were against him. He even mentioned

that she claims to have some sort of power to predict deaths. He describes her as if she was a genius or Messiah. Once, I invited him to play Plato, and he agreed. I managed to talk to the girl via call and realized that he was indeed talking to another person. She didn't seem brilliant at all. In fact, I suggested testing my level in one of the languages she supposedly speaks, and she pretended to lose the connection. My friend even changed his phone number because he believes her wealthy Russian ex-boyfriend

will track him down. He also mentioned that she knows how to hack phone numbers and access bank accounts, he told a very macabre story about a murder of one of her family members that chilled me to the bone. He says that he met this girl and that they made out.

They both told me in the call I mentioned before that they met each other in person. Something seems very odd. I'm losing my friend, and I don't know what to do. I'm unsure if they want to take money from him or something worse. I don't want to oppose him for fear of that

he might shut me out and stop talking to me. My friend was never a liar. I have known him since I was a child. I'm doubting everything. I don't know if she's lying, if my friend is lying to me for some reason. I don't know what else to do to help my friend. What should I do?

And then people in the comments start immediately debunking this lady. Someone says, only 43 people in the world have ever been reported to have R.H. No Blood, or the Golden Blood. or the chances that someone with this blood type also skipped multiple grades, graduated early from Harvard, speaks five languages, and has traveled around the world with UNICEF. And there are no news articles, medical journals, Harvard announcements to be found on the internet.

Highly unlikely. And then the O.B responds saying, she also claims her whole family had this blood type. There is no way her stories are true. And then someone else says, I don't know what type of oncology degree she's claimed to have. have, but Harvard doesn't have a dedicated oncology program, it seems. They have a clerkship and residency program that only targets radiation oncology, so immediately everything about her

has immediately been debunked. And then the OP gives us an update. And the update says, my friend and I went to his house without notifying him. His mother opened the door and told us that she'd been thinking of contacting us because she is also very worried about her son. She shared more details with us. He sleeps all day, wakes up around 7 to 8 p.m. in the evening, and spends the whole night talking to this woman. We also learned something that really alarmed us. When he changed his number out of fear of the Russian man, he also got a phone line for the woman. That is, the phone number I talked to and the one my friend talks to every night is in his name. The woman he talks to is completely untraceable.

His mother is very concerned because he mentioned that soon he wants to go visit the woman to take care of her. My friend and I told her that under no circumstances should let him go out to find this woman because he risks never coming back. My friend and I took him outside of his house and for a while he was like he used to be. But he kept talking about fantastical stories about the woman. His parents are going to try to get psychological help. This situation has become very creepy. I don't know what this woman wants for my friend. And now I'm quite sure they never met in real life.

I'm afraid this, quote, woman might want to kidnap him. I'm not even sure if she is only one person or more. Because he mentions that he was harassed by other numbers. She hacked them and messaged him through these numbers to show him that she took possession of the phone numbers. obviously she is the one behind all these numbers this is so weird i'm so worried i'm only posing this on reddit to know if this type of scam where you can get contacted by so many numbers happened before and what does she or they want from my friend and the opi posted this in like five

different subredits and no one really had a good idea of what this person wanted from the friend because the lady apparently never asked for money ever, so it's not financially motivated. But I'm just confused because, I mean, I'm going through all the comments on all these different posts and the OPE has never given an extra update or a new update on what happened to the friend. Because the friend seemed completely enthralled in this woman,

whether he was just alone and finally got the attention of a girl or whatever. Who knows, I mean, people can do as dumb things when they finally get attention from a girl. But, I mean, I don't see how this guy doesn't, see through this. He's like, oh yeah, this very unicorn of a person loves me. And I also can never meet them. I can also never video chat them. And I'll never do anything with them. I mean, people, I guess just get blinded by like love or whatever. But this is very strange and we never got an update post. We never knew what happened to the friend. And we also don't know what the

motivation was. Was it just some mentally deranged person who wanted to get all these attention? Or was it a impulsive liar of sorts? I mean, to be honest, we don't know. And there has never been an update since, sadly. So I really do wonder what this scammer or person even wanted. But it's very, very strange. 10 years ago today, I almost executed a plan to murder my brother. I always consider myself the fuck-up of the family.

In this victim mentality, really didn't do me any favors. My brother and I had kind of a row. rough start of it, both parents underemployed, father alcoholic, mother depressed and sort of checked out of reality. We were latchkey kids basically raising ourselves. I kind of decided life was over before it began, but my brother was like, I don't know if he was oblivious to the whole situation or if it fortified him, but he was just driven from day one. He was the younger brother, which made it even worse for me. While I was failing classes and getting to teased and disappointing everyone, he was crushing it at everything he even gave a try.

Phenomenal athlete, math whiz, everyone liked him, and somehow he actually managed to be a good person on top of all that. At the time, I thought everything came incredibly easy to him, so I didn't acknowledge any of the backbreaking hard work he had to put in to be that kind of guy. The resentment built up for the years, and eventually I became pretty alienated for my family. That's when I got into the party lifestyle and from their gambling. It started as the group I'd fallen in with, always hitting casinos for cheap drinks and fast girls, but quickly became an obsession for me. They liked the games, I loved it, to the point that I lost the friends and just hung out at the casino all the time.

Meanwhile, my brother was building this tremendous small business and making out really well for himself. Eventually, I hit bottom. or what I thought was bottom. After losing every last cent of borrowed money and having to leave town, I went to my brother in earnest at the time and begged him to just give me one more chance. He was so incredible. He got me into a program and helped me get clean. He got me a job at his business.

He even let me live with him despite the fact that his fiancé definitely hated my guts. But he didn't know about my gambling. I never told him. I stayed on the straight and narrow for a while, but after about a year, I had just convinced myself that he wasn't doing any of these things, the job, the rehab, the room, out of kindness, but out of condescension. I grew to despise him in my whole life around him, even though it was exponentially than anything previously in my adult life, though I was too blind to see it.

I felt beholden to him and figured that's what he wanted. At no time did it occur to me, he wanted me to get on my own two feet and just be his brother. I figured if I was too cynical to do the same for him, why would he do it for me? I couldn't cope with the shame and remorse and anger oscillating inside. One moment I'd feel crippling rage. The next, I'd be overwhelmed with guilt for being so ungrateful. Then I'd be angry at him for making me guilty. The thrill of hitting a big win was,

my only release. It made me feel successful and worthwhile and independent and gave me the sense of hope that nothing else at that point could. A lump sum of cash seemed like the answer to most of my problems, with the answer to the rest being a bigger lump sum. But it wasn't even really about the money so much at that point. I already had the best job I'd ever had before. It was the beautiful women, the free stuff, you know. You just feel like a movie star when you're on a run and it halfway decent casino. And you would only have to do the bare minimum to make me feel special in the moment because I felt so, so, so low in the rest of my life.

After about a year and a half, I thought my brother might be getting suspicious because I was making good money at my job, but never seemed to buy anything fancy or make a move towards my own place. My presence was definitely causing strain on his marriage, and he was probably anxious to kick me out without forcing me back to my old lifestyle. So one day I told him, I'd got an apartment and I took off. I was actually homeless. Some nights the casino would give me a room, but by that point, I rarely had enough money to attract attention. I started borrowing from shadier and shadier people. My friends had learned their lesson about lending me anything of value, and most weren't even talking

to me anymore. Or I cut contact with them in a rage when they refused to lend me money. In my eyes, time they had so much and there was no reason they couldn't kick me a few bucks they were just greedy assholes yeah i was a mess but i always managed to pay back what i'd borrowed or get away from the lenders before anything too serious happened until i couldn't an escort i was spending a fair deal of time with back then vouched for me to some friends of hers that i was good for a loan i took out more than I usually would. I was sick of being homeless and convinced myself if I could just get enough capital work with, I could get in a nice place and sell my paintings for a living and have a nice comfortable life. I was prepared to do whatever it took to make that night be the last night

of living that way. And I kept telling myself, next time I was going to be it. Things would turn around. I was about to start winning again. It was statistics. I had to win the next one. I took more risk than usually would and dipped into my emergency fund and put myself in a really bad position. I lost it all. It was more borrowed money than I'd ever lost and I knew I was fucked. I was given a very clear ultimatum as to when I had to return the money. They knew way too much about me via the escort who recommended me for any hope of skipping out. Plus, unlike the smaller guys I dealt with before, mostly friends, friends of friends, employers,

or wannabes. These weren't the type of people to so easily forget a big loan. I spent the first couple of days calling in favors. I didn't really have any favors to call, so that didn't really help me. Only one guy even took my call, and that was just to tell me no, nicely.

Then I started thinking I'd end things, but I was just such a narcissistic, bad person back then that within 12 hours of planning how I'd do it, I thought, this is really my brother's fault that I'm in this position. Why should I have to pay for what he did to me? He's been holding me down my whole life. I was so out of my mind back then

that I don't know what the thought process leading up to that could have even been. But the only one of our parents we spoke to was dead. So I figured there must be something for me in the will. He didn't have any kids yet. We talked about the end of our life at some point and he'd strongly hinted he'd leave something for me. Despite his success, he lived pretty frugally,

so I couldn't just snatch his car or anything to handle this. I wasn't smart enough and didn't have enough time to embezzle. I figured I could make it seem like a robbery gone bad. I was nowhere near smart enough, even in a lucid state to pull that off. I don't know what I was thinking. I made a spectacularly half-assed, nonsensical plan and was going to wait outside his house. He, or rather his fiancé, made me give them.

the key when I moved out and just go for it. My plan involved me showing up before he got home from work and did not take into account what I'd do if he were to come home early for whatever reason. So as I was approaching the house, he was out back doing some repairs and he recognized me. I don't know if my height and build are that distinct or he knew my shoes or what because I was wearing a mask and he immediately came around and say, hey, is that you? Come on in here. I was just fixing to go out. Have he eaten yet? I was still far enough away that I guess he didn't register, that I was lurking around in the dark with a mask,

but I ripped it off and something just overtook me. I was at the absolute peak of my stress levels and in a delirium. I just broke down. For maybe the first time in my life since he was a baby, I saw my brother in a wholly positive light and as a refuge rather than a threat, and I just collapsed crying. I told him my whole payment situation.

He consoled me and took me inside and worked out an agreement in which he paid off the people in a question contingent on me entering treatment. He had no idea about my gambling problem before then. From then on, thanks to a lot of therapy and GA, I managed to heal from the whole cluster fuck that was the beginning of my life. My brother knows about everything now, the feelings of resentment, the lies, but not this. I've still never told anyone this. I almost talked about it in my last meeting,

but I just can't bring myself to talk about it. I'm far too ashamed, and I'm always worried if I say it, even one place out loud, someone might know my brother and feel compelled to tell him. Even though I would never, in my right mind, which I am now,

consider doing something like that. My brother would have no reason to believe it. I almost told him on step five, and again on step nine, I figured it would fall into the cause injury two category basically means that it is something that would be more hurtful to tell him than to let him go on not knowing because he's already had so much hurt and betrayal in his life. He genuinely trust me now. He's happier for that and it took years to get to that point. It might make me feel better to tell him, but it would probably

be just one more burden for him to carry. I almost told him today, thinking enough time had passed. It had to be all right, but I thought about it and realized. You know, he stands to gain nothing. It would really be so much more for me than for him. I love him so much and I'll never forgive myself for spitting in the face of his kindness for so many years. I could never tell him. But at the same time, it definitely creates a wedge between us. I've thought about it more than once.

I couldn't ever take the risk. He's the best thing I'll ever have. I've just got to put that all behind me. I think this helped me think through it, though. I don't know. Thanks for reading if you did get this far. Oh, and if you need help, do try a meeting. My brother dragging me into one surely saved my life.

I'll drop a list of national hotlines in the comments. My rich dad lost it all. So I'm 24 female. I come from a very privileged place, and I can't really talk about that with my friends because I'm not really sure there will be any. left after that, so I'm saying that here. My dad made his money because he was in tech when no one was. Like, he started working in the 90s and got involved in the creation of so many major

companies. It's actually insane. He made millions from it. And today, he's now about to be homeless. So how did he do such a magic trick, he may ask? Addiction is not your friend. I'm pretty sure my dad has them all. Alcohol, gambling, drugs. When I was little, it was pretty well known that we had money. And I mean, pretty easy to see. I had an amazing apartment with a beautiful view, a castle for the weekend, and various summer houses. We were always traveling to exclusive places. I had my first Chanel bag when I was nine, my first Rolex at 12. But behind the scenes, everything was bad. My mom left my dad when I was four because he was beating us when he was drunk. And from that moment on, well, he wasted everything. It started to be well known in his line of work

that he wasn't reliable for partying too much, not showing to some important meetings, etc. For that, people got less inclined to work with him, and rightfully so. But even with that, he was settled for life in theory. For some strange reason, he stopped pain. his taxes. Like, I don't know. He just didn't feel like it anymore. Well, that's what got him in the end. Also, the crazy gambling, but a casino can't cease you. The state can. So little by little, everything got sold and now they came for where we lived and we lost that too. In a month, he'll be in the streets without a job. I've still got one year left to uni that don't really know how I'm going to pay for. A trust fund is in a third.

thing in my country and I don't really have anything to my name, but I'm about to be a doctor, so I'm not too worried for me. My dad on the other end, I don't know what's going to happen. Honestly, it just is hard to comprehend how you can go from having it all to nothing. Piece of advice, don't drink and pay your taxes. And I mean, wow, that's just such a depressing story. And who knows what happened to the O.P.'s father? Because I don't know how you can deal with the weight of knowing you had it all and you're homeless now. Like, what do you even do at that point? Truly, like, that is like, just rock.

I don't know how you even recovered from that. So I hope O.P.'s father's doing the best he can, but, I mean, this is a great lesson. Once again, I mean, we've covered multiple confessions in today's video about addiction. And this just goes to show that nobody is, you know, invincible to addiction. Addiction can tear anybody down. Whether you have millions or whether you have $5 in your pocket, addiction can ruin your life.

You can have it all and it can go to nothing. So just everyone watching, just take this as a lesson and a moral of a story. Addiction is a slippery slope. And even if you have millions of dollars to protect yourself, it still may never be enough. So just, you know, please be responsible. Everyone watching with drinking, drugs, gambling, etc.

Or just don't do it. because basically the only thing that can stem from it is bad. But yeah, just a great moral of the story. I accidentally uncovered a huge scam and now I'm being threatened to keep quiet. I have a confession that's both shocking and terrifying. I'm 20 female and I accidentally uncovered a massive scam involving a well-known company. What's even crazier is that I'm now being threatened to stay silent. It all started when I noticed some discrepancies in the financial records at my part-time

job. I initially thought it was just poor bookkeeping, but as I dug deeper, I realized it was part of a large-scale fraud involving millions of dollars. The company was defraud investors and manipulating financial reports to cover up their tracks. I tried to report it through proper channels, but my findings were quickly dismissed. Then I began receiving anonymous threats, warning me to stop digging and to keep quiet about what I discovered. They even threat my safety and the safety of my family if I didn't comply. The situation is incredibly scary. I'm caught between wanting to do the right thing and protect myself and my loved ones. I've been struggling with the moral implications of staying silent while knowing that people are being deceived and harmed. But the threats are real,

and I'm terrified of what might happen if I push too hard. I don't know how to handle the situation, and I'm grappling with the fear of speaking out versus the danger of remaining silent. I broke up with my girlfriend when she refused to sign a pre-up. I need some perspective on a situation that's been eating at me. I, M. 25, was planning to marry my girlfriend, who's female 24 of three years. Let's call her Sarah. Everything seemed perfect until I brought up the idea of signing a prenuptial agreement. Sarah blew up at me, accusing me of not trusting her and seeing our relationship as doomed from the start.

She argued that a pre-up is unnecessary because, we love each other and plan to spend our lives together. I tried to explain that a pre-nup is just a precaution, something to protect both of our interests in case things don't work out in the future. I have investments and assets that have worked hard for, and I want to make sure they're protected, but Sarah wouldn't hear it. She said if I can't trust her enough to marry her without a pre-up, then maybe we shouldn't get married at all. I was just taken aback by her reaction, but I stood my ground and said that I wasn't willing to risk my financial future. Eventually, Things escalated. We ended up breaking up over the issue. Sarah accused me of prioritizing money

over our relationship, but I feel like she's the one who's being unreasonable. Now I'm left wondering if I was wrong for insisting on a pre-nup and if I should have just agreed to marry her with that one. Am I the asshole here? My husband is obsessed with another woman. Been with my husband for over 10 years now, married of three years. We have a one-and-half-year-old daughter. I found out the night of her birthday party that he spent our entire relationship obsessed with his ex-girlfriend from high school, kissed her when she came to visit the U.S. a few weeks before, and he was planning to leave me and our daughter to be with her in France. The only thing that kept him here was a panic attack he had while trying to book the flights that led him to an epiphany and made him realize

he was making a mistake. It feels like our entire relationship hinges on the fact that he had a panic attack before booking the flights. After it happened, he tried to love bomb me for. for weeks until he realized I was not reciprocating. I am a very affectionate person, and that all stopped, not even intentionally. I feel like I've been living with a roommate for months, and he has the audacity to complain about our lackluster sex life lately. He did all this right when he finally got everything when he always talked about, degrees, jobs, housing the city we want, and a baby. I asked him to go to therapy to figure his shit out, and he hasn't even tried. He has gone to therapy before for panic attacks.

He wants to move on like nothing ever happened. And I'm trying to figure out if I wanted to even love him again. I know I could try and make it work and fall back in love with him, but I don't know if I want to. Give me your unfiltered thoughts, but please, don't be mean to me. I really can't take much more right now. Edit, just a reminder for the ass hats blaming me. He was obsessed with her for years before we started dating and he never handled or fixed it. So no, it isn't my fault for the reason and a billion other reasons.

I've loved him, supported him, and compromised in a lot of ways for our relationship. I broke up with my boyfriend because he yelled at me. I'm a 29-year-old woman. He and I dated for about eight months. Our relationship was fine. We did things together. We had fun. There weren't any obvious red flags, but I always got this feeling that he didn't value me much.

At times, he seemed a bit cold and acted like he was annoyed with me for no apparent reason. It all came to a head when, three days ago, when we were hanging out at my place, he asked me to hand him the TV remote. I was sitting right next to him on the couch and was working on my laptop. I reached for the remote without looking and accidentally handed him my phone instead. I thought it was funny after I realized what I had done, and I laughed as I handed him the actual remote. He had the same annoyed look on his face. He began yelling at me and called me a stupid bitch. I was stunned and I have never raised my voice at him or disrespected him in a little.

any way. I did not deserve to be treated this way. I told him our relationship was over and asked him to leave. He told me to calm down and stop overreacting. I simply walked to the front door, open it wide, and told him to get out and never come back. He walked out telling me I was being dramatic. The very next day I returned the presence he had given me. They meant nothing to me now. My friends are telling me I did overreact and I shouldn't just end a relationship because he yelled at me once and have asked me to patch things up. His friends too began harassing me on social media. I blocked them. All. His friends, not mine. I'm not going to reach out to him to try to work things out, as some people have suggested, because I know that I do not deserve this treatment. I've always treated

him with respect, and I deserve that in return. I just needed to tell somebody. Thank you for reading. I can't take the self-diagnosed mental health issues anymore. I'm a 33-7, ADHD diagnosed woman. Got the diagnosis in 1996 after almost failing school. The whole treatment I was subjected to was to help me control symptoms and live better in society, not inconvenience myself and others. I have some real autistic friends with the same outlook. Now in the past goddamn seven years I have to listen to absolute nonsense in the internet all the time. A bunch of self-diagnosed people that just use their made-up mental diseases as excuses. That makes the community looks so bad. I can't tell any employers I have ADHD because they'll presume I will

refuse to show up to work and say I have a mental illness and be a completely entitled and unmanageable mess. I've seen people using ADHD to justify screaming with their partners, cheating, not delivering promises, being lazy, not putting any effort. Ah, no, please. My roommate is a 26-year-old, wrote me a message calling my hygiene concerning and me disrespectful because I left a dish in the sink overnight. When I confronted her, and said she can't talk to me this way. She started crying like a big baby and said she doesn't know how to express herself because of her autism. Is she a Cardet Blanche for you do absolutely dickhead for with no consequence now?

I have actual autistic friends. They have issues looking me in the eye and knowing what to talk, but all of them, every single one, can take accountability when you inform them. I just can't take this shit anymore. Another roommate would make my life miserable with every fucking little sound because he had mysophonia, like the light switch. sound in your room would make him bishing his. Never went to a fucking doctor. And now if I complain, I won't live in a complete silence from eight. I'm in the non-accommodating monster. There's no goddamn

accountability and discomfort anymore. Every possible incommission feeling now had it at CID. Meanwhile, I'm the only one actually mentally ill with years of therapy slash medication. And I definitely wouldn't be caught dead doing shit like that. I have dignity. Doesn't matter if my ADHD makes it hard to remember shit. It's my responsibility to write it down. and make it. I took a commitment. Where's the accountability? Edit. Going to put an edit here I didn't think I would need. If you're thinking, well, I am self-diagnosed and don't do those things, then this post isn't for you. This post is specifically about people that behave in that specific manner and cover it up with a CID. Not all the mentally ill. Also, I'd recommend always trying

to get a diagnosis because symptoms of understood the mental issues like autism and ADHD manifested in everyone in different shapes and forms. I've heard from three different friends that they are afraid. They have ADHD because of executive dysfunction issues. They were just burnt out. It can be bad anxiety. Can be trauma. Different solutions.

I didn't realize skinny privilege was a thing until I went from obese to fit and I absolutely hate it. So I, 21 female, have been on a weight loss journey since New Year's. I went from obese, 5'4 and 187 pounds to fit. I remember when I was bigger. I got treated awful. Even by some friends. I got called a whale. Was the punchline to a lot of fat jokes, was always talked over, told I was annoying, etc. I was also told to go to the gym multiple times, but when I did, I was told to go home and eat a burger because we all know you're not going to stick to it. By a gym bro. Overall, I felt awful about myself, and my mental health was in shambles.

The night before New Year's, my fiancé, 23M, and I got invited to a party. When we got there, my friend's boyfriend had already had too much to drink and out of literally nowhere, He called me, an annoying, ugly fat B. It implied I was the duff. I started crying and realized enough was enough. I'd been called fat for the last time. On New Year's, I got my calories down to 1,200 and started going to the gym five times a week.

Slowly, the weight started to fall off, but got more rapid the longer I was on the diet. I also developed a pretty bad ED and body dysmorphia along the way, but recovered after a few months of therapy. Now in November, I'm 129 pounds, having lost nearly 60 pounds, I have been pretty overweight since I was about 13. It was so used to the treatment I had prior that I had no idea how things would change for me. I went from being talked over to everyone stopping and letting me talk.

I went from being called annoying to chill. I went from being rejected by several men and even laughed at for having the audacity to shoot my shot to men coming up to me and asking for my number. I went from being the only one men didn't introduce themselves to, to one of the first one at bars when my fiancé and the other guys in our group would walk off, and do their own thing. I went from being called Factor Beautiful. I went from being invisible to notice, essentially. The treatment I've been getting for the past few months is nothing I've been used to,

especially being bullied pretty badly in middle and high school. And as much as I love being included now, I can't help but to feel awful for my bigger self. I deserve the same love and respect when I was bigger because I'm the same person. Now, of the sudden that I'm skinny, I'm the center of attention and finally seen. It makes me terrified to gain weight again and go back to being the dung, and treated him so badly. I wish society judged us on our inner beauty rather than our outer.

I did unfortunately find out skinny privilege was real, and I absolutely hate it. My girlfriend was poking holes in my condoms. I, M25, and my now ex-girlfriend is F-22. We've been together for a few years, and everything was going great until she started pressuring me to get married and have kids. I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment, and I have made it clear to her. However, she wouldn't let it go. She kept bringing it up, trying to convince me that we should take our relationship to the next level. I felt suffocated and stressed out by her constant nagging. Then, one day, I discovered something that completely shattered my trust in her. I found her poking holes in the condoms we were using. I was shocked and angry beyond words.

It felt like a huge betrayal of my trust in our relationship. I confronted her about it, and she tried to downplay it, saying she just wanted to speed things up because she knew I was hesitant about having kids. But I couldn't believe her excuses. I couldn't be with someone who would manipulate me like that. So I ended things with her. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make, but I knew it was the right thing for me. I couldn't stay with someone who didn't respect my boundaries who would go behind my back like that. Some of our mutual friends are saying I overreacted and that breaking up with her was too harsh, but I can't shake the feeling. that I dodged a bullet.

And all right, wow. I know I didn't add my kind of reaction to the past two, but this one was easy to add a reaction too. I think it's insane that his mutual friends are saying he overreacted. This is crazy. How in any world is he overreacting? Poking holes in his condoms? Like, come on, that is the complete, like almost not definition,

but that is a complete lack of trust. and just that is crazy. And this guy did dodge a bullet, and I'm glad he ended things because that lady's crazy. To not flunk out of college, I changed my grades and thousands of others as well. When I was a student at a major university in the late 80s, I was failing several classes miserably.

I had completely screwed up in two of my six classes, and I needed to make a plan of how not to flunk out. For one class, I decided to dedicate all my spare time, in correcting where I went wrong and fix it by acing the final exam. The other class, which was much more technical, required that I'd come up with a plan. Keep in mind that I was a totally goody two-shoes kid who felt like they were in a desperate situation. Failing out of college was not something I could allow to happen. Desperate times, desperate measures.

The class that I needed to pass was a science-slash-engineering class that I had not bothered to go to. So I went to the very last Thursday class to figure out my plan. One thing the professor did say was that if you had a 93 or higher average in the class, you could opt out of the final exam that was happening in one week. I had a 64 average, so I had to take the exam. How was it going to ace this exam? My grades were too low to get pulled up enough. The only way to fix this was to get my grades changed.

So I came up with a Hail Mary plan, one that involved a few rules to be broken, and by rules, I mean laws. The science building where the class was given would close for the weekend. This meant that the professor's offices were locked and most of the labs were locked as well. You could still get into the main parts of the building, but you had to talk to a security person if it was after hours. There wasn't digital badges and shit like that back then. So here was my plan. On Friday afternoon, after most classes were over, I scoped out the whole building.

It was a U-shaped building that was three stories tall. I had to find a way in. Luckily, I found one of the first floor labs on the inside of the U had large horizontal windows that could be unlocked and would allow for someone to crawl through. Even better, one of the lab's windows were obscured by small fenced in area to house some of the electrical and HVAC units. Large bushes lined the fence as well, so while I was there, I went into the lab and unlocked a window to allow myself a place to enter the building. The door of the lab was propped open, and I unpropped it and let it close. It locked. Good to know. It also reduced the chances of someone relocking the window. I also scoped out the professor's office. It was open, but he was not in there. It was very small and with no windows. Just enough room for a desk, his chair, and a couple of other chairs. His office door was all-metal door, painted beige except for a small center window in the middle. The window had a wire screen built into the glass, held in place by a simple screwed-on frame. There were lots of manila envelopes, and schedules, et cetera, on the door as well. This would be a challenge, but I'd formed my plan.

At around 3.30 in the morning, I arrived back at the building with my backpack and a plan to break into the building. I had a hammer, pliers, a roll of tape, and some screwdrivers that I had scrounged and I was nervous as hell. I made my way through the bushes and climbed over the fence. I checked the window and it was still unlocked. I pulled myself up through the window and into the dark lab. remembering that the lab doors would lock behind you, I slowly opened the lab door and placed some tape on the lock to stop it from locking. I was expecting a quiet building but instead was greeted by the loud sound of machinery running. Another lab was conducting an all-night test or something and at least three upper-level students were there overseeing the project. In a way, that was good because my presence wouldn't necessarily be noticeable by others.

I'd find out later that it would also cover any noises I made. I made my way to the professor's office door, which was a lot more out of the way part of the building. The office was located right by one of the stairwells so I could hear anyone coming down the stairs and also, if someone happened to start coming from the other way, I could use the stairs for a quick exit. I pulled out the screwdriver to start unscrewing the frame around the glass window in his door and soon realized that the screws were covered in decades of paint. Not good. What I thought was going to be a two-minute job turned into a 45-minute job. I went into what I would call fuck it mode and just went to town on this window frame.

I had a few starts and stops, but no one came by. I got the frame off and tried to pry the glass out of the frame. It was sealed with paint. Getting the glass out took a monumental amount of slow prine and steady effort. After 30 minutes of scraping and gentle pressure, I had the glass paint out. I slowly reached in and turned the lock to unlock the door. I grabbed a large manila folder on the outside of the door and repositioned it over the window. A perfect cover for the now mauled up window.

I slid into the office and looked for something to cover the window that would block light. The desk calendar worked well and a few pieces of tape held it up well. Then I turned the lights on to survey the scene. I was now presented with a desk, a chair, and small slim table behind the desk. Of all the ways my plan could go wrong, my biggest fear was that the professor may have taken all of his grades home with him. A quick look into the large flat file on his desk and I had full handwritten. grade register in my hands, and the pen he used for recording grades was teched right inside. He taught six classes that semester, and I only needed to change one grade, my grade.

However, now that I had seen how banged up the paint was on the glass window frame, I knew I had to alter the plan. I searched through grade book and found all of my grades, and I saw I had several in the 70s and some lower 60 grades. I had done some work in the class, I thought it over for a few seconds and started executing plan B. I went through every single class he had and began randomly changing anything in the 60s to read as if in the 80s. Then I went through the change all the 70s and found to read as 90s. I realized that the changed grades wouldn't stand up under close scrutiny, so I had to create a herd immunity of changed grades. I noticed a few bad students in some of the classes and made some extra efforts at changing the grades. A zero, now in 88. This was taken a while.

With six classes and 50 students or so in each class, in about 10 grades per student, there was about 3,000 grades in this register. I changed at least 1,500 of those grades. Of course, my grades were changed as well. Lots of numbers in the 90s. I closed the gradebook and placed it back in the drawer exactly as I had found it. But I heard a little plink sound. I pulled in the drawer and realized it was now locked, but wasn't before. Okay, so maybe he'll think he locked it. No big deal. My mind began to wonder of what the aftermath of this might be. Would this work? Would I be able to get away with not taking the exam by creating this academic chaos? About this time was when I noticed the IBM PC on a spec table. Hmm, did he record his grades on a handwritten register and his

PC? If he had been backup of the grades, all of this would be for nothing. Also, I couldn't reference all the changed grades at the drawer was now locked. I booted up his IBM PC-XT and saw that it had two, 3.5 disk drives. There's five discs by the commuter. What to do? I load each disc in the drive and type D-E-L and nuke them all. I hadn't planned on this, but then fuck it mode, so let's review the plan. Change so many grades that he would have to take an impossible amount of time to deconstruct the chaos and simply give out good grades or at least better grades as needed. No one particular student would be identifiable as a culprit because there were plenty who had a motivation to change the grades. This was as good of an idea as I could come up with. After having

distributed all the good grades to all the good boys and girls, I gathered my tools and planned my exit strategy. The back of his door had a few items tapes to it as well, so I replaced the glass and frame and covered it with another manila folder. I wrote a poorly written, not on a post-it, that said, sorry, mop handle cracked the glass, replaced glass, maintenance. I then split, got past the grade student running the machine, slipped out the window and never went back. Didn't show up with the final exam, either because you know, higher than a edited 90 or 93 average, and all. Waited 45 long days that summer to get my grades, got a 90 in the class. Yeah. Okay, no complaints. There had to be some other people who got their grades and were happier as well. Never suffered any consequence on this either,

but it was the most stressful night of my life. I haven't done shit like this ever again. Okay, here's some follow-up to the messages and comments. So I'm 50 years old now, and I wrote this on a slow last hour of work on a Thursday because I've been reminded of it while reading a different Reddit post. I wrote the post in about 15 to 20 minutes. A few have asked about the grading discrepancy of 90 versus 93. Now that this memory has taken a little bit more of my brain space the last 24 hours,

what I recall was that the requirement to not have to take the exam was having an A average. We were on a seven-point scale, then so that would have been 93 and up. I had changed my grades in the grade book first to meet this requirement, again the whole time in adrenaline and freak-out mode, but once I had written over my numbers, it was obvious that I was the only one of the adjusted grades. I had hoped I could make the numbers look more convincing. I also realized the self-incriminating factor of just my grades being changed and for self-preservation started changing them all. It took forever when I left the building and the sky was starting to get light for the sunrise, I stated that I arrived at 3.30 a.m. That was a guess. I wasn't concerned with what time it was,

just wanted to get it in and get out as soon as I had resolved my grade problem. The thing I failed to convey in the post was that fact I didn't take the exam, but when I received my grades, I got a 90, which is a B on the 7-point scale. This didn't match up to not take any exam because you should need an A to not take it. So technically, I should have complained and said, hey, where's my A? Since I did not take the exam. So I thought this might have been a drag net, where all students got a maximum B grade, and then this would allow them to find legit A students who would complain and possibly flush out an illegitimate C or D students who might ask about their better than expected grade. That's why I wrote no complaints. State of mind.

Not an excuse in any way, but I had a parent-passing. away my first year at college. There wasn't a lot of counseling back then, just a hand on the shoulder and condolences. I don't remember even hearing the word depression uttered except in psychology class. Mental health was not freely discussed unless someone had big problems. I was probably on the cusp of what was then called a nervous breakdown. I had come from a small town and had expected to escape my one horse town and breezed through college, one of the smart kids, you know, but I had to let my only dream die. I had lost my dad, my academic career, and I had my escape and my identity at 19. I know plenty had it worse, but it felt really bad. I had to eat a lot of

humble pie, and at first it sucked, but not long after, I felt free of the burden of being in the wrong place, pursuing the wrong thing, and I started smiling again. Aftermath. I changed schools that summer and also changed my field of study. Something about experiencing the absolute guilt of failure of the first school really made me driven at my new school. It was also a very much smaller school and had less distractions. I thrived, made straight A's, and loved learning the new subject matter. I'll describe my field as design, as that's nice and vague. I've been doing that since graduation successfully, and I have my own company and employees. I'm not world famous or anything, but I would bet most of you have an interaction with something I have designed. This school has been my favorite college sports

team my whole childhood, and was my single plan as a college student. I died because of this. I had not set foot on that large campus since that day I left many years ago, until this past summer when my son went to go tour. I had to hide that awful feeling I had as we walked by the building where this happened. Just this low sense of ancient dread from a past life staring at me as I walked by. My son unaware and instead excited to be there. The professor in this story works for the same university. He had done other things and came back. He's got patents and a PhD and is an expert in the field. Here's a potentially crummy part. He got his PhD. He got his PhD. within a year of this incident, so I really hope I didn't destroy any of his research when deleting

the computer disks. I've thought about anonymously sending him this Reddit link or even Star 67 calling him to see what the true aftermath was, but this seems like a bad idea and would likely just bum me out. Doubters. My post had several people who doubt the veracity of my post, and I get it. It is the internet, but the story is true, and if there's any untruth is in the specific number of details, Did I wait exactly 45 days from my grades that semester? Fuck if I know. I know I did count them back then because I was waiting for grades that would make or break me, but 40, 45, 65, I don't remember.

Did I change that many grades? I swear, I changed as many as I could. 79, now 99. 66, now 86. That's what happened. I distinctly remember feeling the need to do more and more because every time I stopped, I would see one more I could change, and that meant I was safer from being discovered.

There's another. Change it. And another. And more was better because each one was another step at covering my tracks. Response. This post's got a lot of positive responses, good karma, etc. It's misplaced. I didn't do this out of a spirit of goodness. I gave others good grades to mass my fraudulent attempt at battering my academic standing. I went home after this and passed out sleeping from most of the day. I still had to study for the exam I was trying to ace legitimately. And then after that, for weeks afterward, I was always wondering. I wonder what happened. and waited on my grades who arrive. Several professors have expressed their disdain at this, and yeah, I can see why, obviously.

It was a long time ago. I've pondered a way to make things right and correct this wrong I created, but I'm open to suggestions. Something about being 50 makes you want to correct mistakes that can be corrected. Bottom line. I'm glad if you thought this story from my youth was entertaining. I'm not proud of this. I've never told another soul this story. Who would?

The lesson here might be, if it feels like work, dread, like you'd don't belong, be honest with yourself. There is likely a direction that you will thrive in, and this may not be it. I got one of my biggest screw-ups out of the way at age 19. Some people have theirs much later. I'm a happy person now. Life is good. It's all worth it.

I received a terrifying, scary note in my mailbox. Hello. I'm not sure if this is the right place to post this. I'm using a throwaway because I don't want this on my mailbox. my main account. It is currently 7.27 p.m. in England, and about 40 minutes ago, I opened my mailbox to find this weird and completely terrifying note. The link is at the bottom of the post, and we'll get into it later. It definitely seems like the person writing this was riding with their other hand to not get their handwriting recognized, and this is what scares me so much. Why would

this person go to the trouble of doing this if the only sketchy thing, they were going to do is write a note. I was at my cousin since noon, and before leaving I checked my mailbox and nothing was there. This means that the note was put there between noon in the time I found it, so about a seven-hour period. It wasn't inside a letter. I don't know anyone who could do this, and I haven't noticed anything strange recently. I did call my close friends, and they all advised me to go to the police, which I'm planning on doing so as soon as I can. but I'm not sure what they can even do. One thing for sure is that I'm not sleeping tonight.

Do you think I'm overreacting? My boyfriend thinks I am and that it's just a prank and I hope it is, but I can't be sure. Has there been reports of similar happenings in England that you know of? Thank you, and I'll edit this post when needed. And now let's get into the picture. In the picture or the letter or the piece of paper reads as follows, don't leave your window open you might get sick or worse are you ready good night with an eye drawn and like the opi said it does look like either horrible handwriting or written with the person's

opposite or non-dominant hand and then a very crudely drawn eye and obviously this is very weird and also threatening i mean are you ready it could be worse than beating getting sick. I mean, obviously very, very creepy. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says any neighbors with security cameras that possibly have your mailbox in view? Also, is there any way you could set up surveillance on your mailbox? And then the OP says, it is not a very wealthy neighborhood, but I could go ask. And as for the mailbox, I don't really see how I could do that. Putting something on the mailbox would be too obvious. And I don't have a camera, but I will be on the lookout tonight. Someone else says,

prank or not, kid or not, this shit's scary a.F. I do agree with the people that say this is a teenager or adult, just based on the clear deception of trying to disguise their handwriting and the shape of the eye. You're not being paranoid. Someone put a threatening message into your mailbox. Not taking it as a threat is irresponsible. Even though there is a very low chance it's a true threat, always take things like this seriously as your future could depend on it.

My suggestions. Number one, contact your neighbors. If it was a prank, probably more than just your mailbox was hit. They may also be able to let you know if someone came to your door. Number two, not sure how old you are, but tell your family or a loved one. Have someone stay with you tonight if you live alone. And number three, tell the police as soon as possible. And then, unfortunately, the OP makes an edit to his post saying,

Edit, I'm going to handle this situation on my own. thanks for everybody who has been nice but posting here was just dumb bye and we have never heard from the OP again the OP supposedly said he's going to the police but who knows so what do you guys think? Do you think it was some kid

playing a prank and just wrote that and put it in his mailbox or do you think someone's seriously trying to threaten the OP or do something bad to the OP? I mean I don't know I'm kind of on the fence here because it could very easily be a prank

but at the same time, it could very easily be someone trying to do something a little bit more sinister. And sadly, we literally have not gotten a single shred of update since then. So this is open-ended. So I don't know. But what do you guys think? My mother believes she's being hacked in spite on, which is quite literally driving her crazy. I don't know what to do. My mother believes her ex-boyfriend has hacked her phone

and planted many video cameras and microphones in her house. This has been going on for quite some time now, at least a year. And I'm not quite sure what to do to help her or put her mind at ease. I don't believe there's any validity to any of her claims. I've gone over to her house many times to investigate things that she thinks have been tampered with. Her house was built in the 1920s. Some examples. A baseboard in her bedroom that she is convinced was taken.

off so wires could run behind it. The board is very solid and does not move at all. There is zero evidence that the board was ever tampered with. Rips in her bedroom carpet that to her were obviously used to run wires under her carpet. There are no signs of any wires being run under the carpet. It's at least 20 years old and quite frankly needs to be replaced. An old computer monitor in the closet of my old bedroom? It's my old monitor, but she's convinced that it's a different monitor and wasn't there before. Funny business in the attic. There's a random VCR sitting in the attic. She insists that she'd not put the VCR there. There is nothing in the attic besides this VCR and some random scraps of wood. She thinks her ex moved the VCR to the attic to set up some sort

of spy slash recording contraption. About 15 years ago, she had insulation put in the attic, so the only area of the attic that is usable is like a two by three area floor. The floor boards are old and some are kind of loose. She believes this is also fishy. She believes the pile of wood scraps was not there before, that he pulled the pieces of wood up in the attic and hid them in the corner. She also pointed out a wire that she said wasn't there before. The wire runs from the light switch at the bottom of the stairs up to the lights in the attic.

Obviously, this power wire has been there all along. but she doesn't think so. The other closet in my bedroom has a wall that she believes was repainted white. The wall is pretty dirty and does not look like it has been painted in the last 20 years. She thinks he painted this wall to hide wires.

The walls in the house are plaster. They are old and cracked in places, rippled in others. She believes that he ran wires and painted over them causing the ripples. To me, it does not seem like there are wires running behind the paint.

There are lots of random wires in the house, old cable wires, phone wires, and electric wires that have been cut and are no longer being used. I think the wires are just wires that she never noticed before, but now that she is paranoid, she is noticing them. The wires don't lead to anything. A few random holes in the ceiling of her bedroom. This is actually the weirdest one for me, as I don't know why there would be holes in the ceiling. They appear to have been drilled out and are about three by eight.

8 inch circumference. I don't see anything inside the holes. I know there are loads of other things that I'm not thinking of at the moment. I don't think her house has been tampered with, but you can't tell her otherwise. She got rid of her internet slash cable about nine months ago because she was paranoid. If he did somehow or for some reason have some elaborate spy network set up, how could he be transmitting his recon back to him with no connection to the internet? There's also the issue with her phones.

She has sent me countless screenshots of apps that are using her location in the background, or that to her seems suspicious. Screenshots that I don't really understand, I'm just so confused. Has anyone experienced anything like this before? And what can I do to help her? Some screenshots she sent me, and for some reason the link no longer works, but I guess it's just probably screenshots of their conversations, and the mother is worried.

I mean, I feel really bad for her. But then the O.P. continues saying, I know the language of this post may seem condescending, but really I'm just annoyed and so over the situation. I think she just needs to burn the house down and get a flip phone. And now, before we get into some comments, the OP did make an edit to his original post, answering some common questions. So let's get into that before we get into the comments. The OP's response, or the edit, reads as follows, saying, wow, was not expecting this type of response. Thank you.

My mother is 50 years old. I believe my mother is diagnosed bipolar. Not a conversation I've ever had with her, just something I recall my grandma saying. She's not particularly healthy. I do worry about her lifestyle choices. At least a pack a day smoker, drinks absolutely no water or milk,

little to no physical activity. She has R.A. in fibromalgia. I'm sorry if I'm a mispronounce that. And I know lupus runs on her side of the family. She's been unemployed basically since the pandemic started and spends most of her time at home. Her ex spent a lot of time at her house when she was still working. This is when she believes he bugged her house. To me, he seems like a nice man.

I know he spent a lot of money on her and never asked for anything in return. Paid her mortgage a few times. He did spend a lot of time on his phone slash iPad, but I don't think he was really all that tech savvy. I guess he did mention to her a while back that, at his work, they have a lot of video cameras and that she wouldn't believe how small they could be. At this point, they've been separated for like two weeks and her paranoia has skyrocketed. She looks like she's aged 10 years in such a short time. Looks like she hasn't slept in days.

A few days ago, she called the cable company to have them come over and remove all of their cable wires. Within a few hours, her ex randomly shows up. This morning, she said that yesterday he came to her house while, she was out and installed more wires. She's already changed her lock, so I'm not sure how he would have gotten in or how she knows he was in her house. Sorry for the lengthy edit, but trying to answer a lot of common questions and give a little more information.

And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, I've worked in the justice system for a very long time, specializing in mental illness, in behavioral health disorders. In my long career, I've seen hundreds of these situations. There have been rare instances, I can only recall one actually, where someone was actually being spied on, but otherwise this is an extremely common but frightening and complicated fixed delusion. If your mom does not have a history of mental health concerns, it's important that you have her assessed for a multitude of potential issues.

Depending on her age, it could be a stroke, dementia, Huntington's, even dehydration, other medical issues. It could be many other things. Others have mentioned potential environmental factors, toxins that should also be ruled out. If she has changed medications or stopped taking one or increased her alcohol usage or stopped drinking for that matter, it could also be related to that.

If you're comfortable asking her questions about changes in any of these conditions, kindly and gently, it could be valuable intel to give to doctors. It's uncommon for someone without a previous history of mental health issues that included delusions to manifest itself later in life without a medical issue triggering the episode. But it is possible that some dormant gene has now presented. It's also possible to have fixed delusions as a byproduct of a personality disorder, where essentially no amount of medication will ease the delusion because it's not a result of chemical imbalance, but rather a pattern of thinking.

Counseling and other behavioral interventions are your best bet in this case. personally how challenging these situations are it's exasperating exhausting and no amount of reasoning seems to help i have to actively remind myself at many times this is not something that the person has control over nor is it something they're doing on purpose it's as much out of their control as it is mine and even though i don't believe this is really happening it feels very very real to them my recommendations based on information above and your intuition that the spine is a delusion Number one, you cannot rationalize or reason her out of this belief. Number two, you can't acknowledge to her that while you're not seeing what she's seen,

you can see that she is genuinely frightened. And number three, you can assure her that you want to help her feel safe again and that you'll work with her to help find solutions to feel safer. Number four, because you are concerned and care about her, in order to help you need to start ruling out certain things like medical conditions, counseling her into getting medically screened, and taking these steps together will make it easier to get the help she needs. And number five, document, document, document.

When she has seen doctors, don't rely on telling them these concerns in the moment. Having screenshots of your communications with her, plus dates of instances for how long this has been going on, will help you illustrate to the doctor how terrifying and debilitating this has been. Do not do things like try to fool her. I found the wires you were worried about to remove them, and everything is fine now because that will deepen her paranoia, validate her concerns, or cause her to lose trust with you.

If she begins to take more extreme measures to protect herself or failing to take care of herself as a result of this problem, you might have to explore involuntary evaluation, options for your state slash county. That documentation work you've already done will be extremely helpful. Hopefully, whatever the underlying reason, it can be identified and treated. I'm so very sorry that both of you are going through this. It can be frightening as well as frustrating to see a loved one with this condition, but the odds are very promising that if you can't identify the underlying reasons and get treatment,

things will improve. I hope you can get some answers soon, and please, come back to update us. And then someone else replies to this comment saying, I work in 911 dispatch. I get calls almost every night from people convinced they're being hacked slash spied, on slash someone has been in their house, etc. Like you said, it's exceptionally rare that police find anything suspicious that supports their claims. Most of the time we get a quick disposition that caller is blank.

Mental health issues. Definitely agree with your advice. Whole lot of things can lead to these sort of issues from the relatively easy remedied. There are a Reddit post years ago from someone who had a carbon monoxide issue and they were leaving notes to themselves and moving stuff around in their home, and they had no idea they were doing it. a cheap CO detector revealed the issue and they were able to get everything fixed

to more severe mental illness or brain cancer, etc. OP should rule out what they can but also be prepared to reach out to doctors, therapists, etc. To get to the root of the problem and figure out the best way to tackle this issue. And then someone else comments saying, How old is your mom? Both my grandmas have slash had dementia

and this was the first sign of it, paranoia. I would definitely take her to the doctor. She might protest, normal for dementia or mental illness, but it's for her health. I know how frustrating this is. Still going through it with one of my grandmas, but thinking of it from their perspective. I'm sure life is really disorienting as your brain is not doing what it should be doing. And then someone else replies to that saying, absolutely. I had to move in with my grandma for a while this year, 90 years old, because she was having so many incidences.

She'd wake up at 3 a.m. See men looking at her through the windows or women walking through her home and run and call the police. Completely frightened. They'd do a sweep of her house and leave. They've come so many times now. When I was staying there, it only happened once,

but she was freaked out. It made me have so much more empathy for the situation. I could tell how scared she was. I treated it like it was possible someone was out there, even though I knew there wasn't. Then, when she loses something, her first thought is that someone stole it or took it. She starts calling around questioning people.

She never stops to think, maybe it was me. Because of her age, she believes everyone is trying to take advantage of her and steal her money. It's a tiring thing to deal with, but what can you do, you know? And then someone else comments, how old is she? It might be dementia. When my grandmother was in her 60s or 70s, she started thinking her neighbors were spying on her. The dentist was intentionally harming her, etc. And so that seems to be a very common thing is dementia or some other mental health issue.

But a very, very sad situation. And sadly, the OPE has never given us an update on this situation. So I don't know. I really do hope the OPE's mother got help. And I just, you know, I think this is a very good post to read because, I mean, like everyone said in the comments, this is very common for people to believe these things. So if any of you guys are watching, you're not alone, things can be fixed. And it might be hard, but it's for the person's best interest for you to help them out

and get it figured out because, you know, they're terrified and not in their right mind, which is so sad. But this was a pretty interesting post, and I just hope the Opie's doing better now, and the Opie's mother is doing better now. On to the next one. I've realized I detest my boyfriend. We've been together almost three years. We live together.

I support us. 100%. In the time we've been together, he's worked maybe two months. He's depressed and anxious, and he steals all the oxygen and joy out of every room. He never wants to go anywhere and then complains that we never go anywhere. I got him an interview at my work, a moderately well-paid entry-level position. He refused to go, saying he wasn't ready, then spends time complaining about not having a job. You get the idea. Everything in our lives revolves around him and his moods. He cries, yells, or just sighs incessantly. There's no laughter or happiness in our home. I walk on eggshells all the time. I dread coming home from work. He grabbed me a few days ago and shook

me so hard I'm bruised on my upper arms. The apartment is in my name and he literally has nowhere to go because he has no friends and he refuses to contact his family. So he'd be homeless and I can't do that to him or any human really. I fantasize about being alone all the time like only cooking or shopping or doing anything just for myself, it would be incredible to be able to breathe again. His birthday was last week and I saved up for a month to get him something related to his hobby. When I gave it to him, he said, I just told you I didn't want to do this anymore. What were you thinking? I think at that point, any love I still felt for him just died. He doesn't cook, clean, care for his dog or do anything but play video games. I'm trapped in prison and I just don't really care what happens to me

anymore. I don't want to die, but I wouldn't be upset if I didn't wake up tomorrow, if that makes sense. I know I should do, but I'm just a dumb bitch. Thanks for reading. Typing it out helps. Edit. Well, this reached the front page, and now I'm super uncomfortable with everything, so I'm not going to be posting anymore. I appreciate all the advice, the tough love too. Hopefully I'll be back with a happy update in the future. Thanks for everything, Reddit. I was kidnapped when I was eight and held in captivity for three years. 26 female. I was picked up by a stranger from school posing to be my dad's friend,

saying that he would drop me off at the airport to catch a flight with my dad. Not only did I actually have to travel with my dad that day, but this man somehow knew my dad was getting off early from work. He told me that morning, and he had to go fishing with his friend. He did this a lot. He told me that my dad sent him to pick me up and meet him directly to the airport, I believed him, convinced my teachers I knew him, because I was excited to go to the airport, and left with him. I was held in a captivity for three years. I was R-worded, beaten, starved.

11-year-old me had learned to make him trust me. It started with us going around in his car, although I had to sit in the back seat and stay quiet the whole time. He let me come into his kitchen and make food for myself. He let me clean his house. The day we went to feed the ducks at the park I ran. I ran as fast as my weak legs could carry me. Because of the crowd, I think he lost me. I begged a family for help, telling them I was kidnapped and I wanted to go home. I told him my name, my school's name, and my parents' names. Long story short, they caught him. He cayed himself. I was back with my dad, my sisters, my dogs. I'm now happily married to my wife of four years, still undergoing therapy. Have a good job and a baby on the way. Edit, I'm very sorry for the last

line, I realized it doesn't end well for most and I got lucky. But the only way I kept going was telling myself I'm going to escape and then I'm going to get better. I'm going to love myself again. I'm going to get past my trauma. Since this worked for me, I assume saying it will end well would work for other people too. Of course, it wasn't right though. I steal hermit crabs from souvenir shops. You know those hermit crabs they sell at pest, a tourist, and coastal souvenir shops, the ones with shells that have badly painted cartoon characters on them, the ones that come free with the purchase of a little plastic carrier, with a thin layer of brightly colored gravel,

some flake food, and a shallow water dish with a sea sponge in it. Maybe your parents let you get one while you were on vacation as a child because it's such a simple little pet. Maybe it lives for a few weeks or months or even a couple of years in that plastic little box before you noticed a bad smell and found it dead. Maybe you shrugged it off because it's just a little crab

and they don't live long, right? Those crabs have a lifespan of 30 plus years. Those crabs are highly social and need to be kept in groups. Those crabs require air that's around 80% humidity or higher in order to breathe and kept around 26 Celsius or 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Those crabs need separate pools of both fresh and salt water using marine aquarium salt that are deep enough to fully submerse themselves in so they can regulate their internal salinity. They need large enclosures with deep substrate to burrow down in so they can molt. They need a varied and nutrition-rich diet with fresh fruit and veggies. The little crab you got as a souvenir in the same place selling custom airbrush shirts

and shark-tooth necklaces dyed a slow and miserable death. It's a miracle it made it so far to begin with, as all the hermit crabs sold in these shops and major pet retailers are collected from the wild. They have their natural shells broken off their bodies with a hammer, so they have no choice but to wear some kitcheny garbable. with Spider-Man painted on it. Roughly 50% don't survive the process, and no one seems to care.

I care. Several years ago, I was one in those shops and saw hundreds of hermocraps kept in a bare, unheated, open air cage with only a shallow dish of water. I could smell them before I saw them. Dead little bodies rotting in the shells and limbs strewn about.

Children were encouraged to pick them up and play with them and begged their parents for one because they're hardly more complicated than a pet rock, right? If I bought some of them, I could give them a chance to live, but in doing so, I'd be supporting a cruel industry in funding the death of so many more. I'm not sure how long I paced around the shop with my moral dilemma before a sudden realization hit me. I have pockets. As casually as I could, I picked out a couple sickly crabs and gently put them in my pocket. My heart was racing, but no one stopped me when I walked out the door.

So started my life of crime. I don't do it often, but if I'm in town with one of those souvenir shops, I'll pop on in and jail break a few hermit crabs. I gravitate towards the weak ones and those missing limbs. They're on their way out, but I want them to have a chance or to at least die as comfortably as they can. The ones that have pulled through are healthy and active now, a colony of contraband crabs. I love the background noise of their shells clacking against their terrarium and each other as they go about their crap business. I'm a little drunk and sentimental tonight, which is my excuse for running all this. I have a feeling most folks won't care to read at all,

but I hope they do, and somehow it'll make a difference. If you made it through my rambling, thanks. May you never be pinched. I cut contact with a mute girl who only talked to me. At my school, there was a mute girl. She was allowed to wear headphones at all times and never spoke to a single person for the entirety of high school. We went to the same college.

If you're not from the UK, college here isn't the same. She was the only person from my school that attended this college with me, and she spoke to me and only me. She would come and sit next to me all the time. She would only whisper a short, to the point replies, and to her voice was very deep and strange. I soon realized that I was the only person outside of her home that she spoke to. It felt really special to me, and I fell in love with her pretty quickly.

But almost immediately, I started to realize she was pretty crazy. She would show me really weird videos she had made that were like horror, gore, cartoons. They weren't that bad, but I definitely was a bit alarmed by them. She showed me that she had multiple scarifications. on her arms, which are basically tattoos made of scars. Only about two weeks into this, we started dating, and then I went to her house. I will never forget this. Her mom came to me as soon as I walked in and took me into another room and gave me a big speech.

Basically, what she said was that she had not spoken to anyone other than her mom, dad, and sister since she was seven, and that I have an opportunity to help her live a normal life. She also said that she is a very powerful antipsychotic and that she can be erratic that her room is a mess. I felt a bit nervous after this. After this, I went up to her room and went inside. It was a rather large room with black bin bags on the windows, making the room pitch black with the lights off. And there were hundreds of relentless and monster cans everywhere. It also smelled pretty bad.

I spent about eight hours there. It was the most intense and strange time in my home. whole life. Firstly, she told me that she hears voices, and they tell her that she is a demon that corrupts people, and that I am now corrupted. She said that she now feeds off of me, that if I abandoned her, she would lose her ability to speak. She then started crying and told me everything about her, her life, and what pain she lives in. She showed me all these scarifications she had done as she recorded them. She played like 30 seconds of one. It's the most disturbing thing I've ever seen. She showed me a video of her choking herself unconscious, and then she made me do some

sort of ritual speech. After we had S-word, which was very uncomfortable because she was trying to get me to hurt her and strangle her. When I didn't, she dug her nails into my arm. After this, she drunk like three monsters in about 20 minutes. She then started talking about S-word, and then she asked me if I wanted to leave. I feel very bad about this, because she had basically put all her trust into me and wanted my help but I couldn't do it. I gave her a long hug and got out of there. It was like 4 a.m. I have never and I'm sure I will never see crazy on a level anything like that. It was very scary. The fact is if she were a man, I never would have interacted with her and I only tried to have anything with her because I found her attractive. But even with that,

said this has tortured me for years now. I feel as if I'm doomed her to live a life of isolation After this, she wouldn't sit with me, and I don't think she came into college much. I only saw her about 20 more times of the course of two-ish years, and she never even looked my way. The only contact I've had with her was about a week ago. She sent me a message on Facebook that said, I wish you could be free from me. You haunt me. I love you.

Which made me cry and keeps making me cry. I did feel our soul's bond in that short time, but she's crazy. nothing I can really do, I think. I slapped a child in the face and then shoved him off his scooter. I'm 25. So I have a beloved kitty named Pixie. She was around four when I found her on the street. She had a rubber band tightened on half her tail.

I spent two weeks feeding her until she was comfortable enough to let me near her. She didn't trust anyone. I took her in, cleaned her up, and got the dead portion of her tail amputated. After five years, she finally warmed up to people. She became so sweet and friendly. It took her years to be comfortable around strangers. Last month, she was out for her daily stroll around the neighborhood and immediately came back in through the kitty door 20 minutes later.

Usually she is out in about for about two to three hours. She had two small holes in her chest and one near her butt. She was completely frightened and was crying slash meowing. She wouldn't even let me go near her for the first five minutes. I knew for certain that she was shot with metal BBs. I'd take her in my car and start driving to the vet, but took a quick detour around the neighborhood. I was going to take the long way to see if I could find the culprit.

Sure enough, I see a kid on a scooter standing on its driveway with a CO2 powered BB gun, aiming in the drainage cavity by the sidewalk. I see cats in there all the time. It was then I knew who the culprit was. I parked the car, got out, walked over to him, and said, I'm telling your parents that you were shooting cats. He replied, they are pests. They told me I could.

The smug little look on his face threw me over the edge. I slapped the fuck out of this bitch And kick sweeped his legs out from under him And watched him fall flat on his ass I then picked up with his gun and smashed it on the ground A small part of me wanted to finish him off with a stomach kick for good measure But I'm fucking 25 So I looked both ways before crossing the street

And fucking bolted As I hopped in my car and sped away I heard him shrieking in the distance My kitty was treated and she is doing okay She is a lot more skittish and spends less time outside Edit in case you're wondering, I'm pretty sure the cops were called. When I came back, I saw a few strolling around.

I was sure I was done. I've never been in trouble or done shit like that. Anyways, I drove by, and literally nothing happened. It's been a month. I think I'm good. And all right, I, this one's, I think this guy went a little bit too far. To be honest. I mean, like he said, he's 25 years old, and he slapped this shit out of a kid and even consider doing more.

broke his gun, broke his toy or whatever. Like, it's understandable. You should not shoot a cat, and especially someone's pet. But if you're 25, a grown man, you can't be beaten up little kids. And I'm surprised the cops didn't find where he lived or stuff like that because that's a pretty big offense in my opinion. So I think, let me know down in the comments below if you agree with me, but I think he went too far and should have just called the cops on the kid and not beat the shit out of him. The woman I married is not the woman I have loved. the most. I've been with my wife for 14 years. She's an amazing spouse, partner, and mother.

She's a great woman, and I'm happy with the beautiful family we've made. That being said, my one true love is a woman I was with right before I met my wife. This woman and I dated for three years. She changed my life with her love. She introduced me to so much. When we were together, everything was electric. I could listen to her talk for hours and just enthralled by her. She was the only person I trusted enough to pour my heart out to, even my wife I can't do this with. She was my perfect match, compatible in every way. No one has made me laugh like her, made me feel pure, unadulterated happiness as her, and I've never been with a lover that I have felt as physically and emotionally connected as her. If there are soulmates, she was mine. In the short time we were together, we planned

out our lives together forever. Unfortunately, she needed to leave the country. Her parents were killed in an accident, killing her father and leaving her mother in need of care. I was serving military commitment fresh out of college and I couldn't go with her. We tried to make it work, but when it came clear, we wouldn't be together for another three years. She became more withdrawn after the accident and resented me for not being able to be with her. I could feel the separation was slowly destroying us, so I set her free. It broke me, but it seemed like the best thing for both of us. I don't think I'll ever forget our time together.

As much as I love my wife, I know that love between us is not as real as me and my ex's love. I married my wife out of convenience, and I grew to love her. A few years back, I got into contact with my ex again. She was married too with kids, but she has also never forgotten. It's still in love with me and wishes things could have been different. We talk sometimes. Nothing is ever inappropriate. I, of course, would choose my wife and family over her any time,

but if I saw her in person again, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be at work. something inappropriate might happen. My stepdad got in a fight to protect me, and I feel different about him now. Sorry if this doesn't belong here. I don't have anyone else I can tell. I'm 19 and a guy. My mom married my stepdad when I was 14 and we've always gone along. My dad died when I was 11 and to be honest, I'm still working through the relationship we had. I've always had this fantasy that he was an amazing dad, but if I'm honest, he was abusive.

He made me fight a 13-year-old when I was 10. old when I was 10. When I said I was scared, he told me I was being a pussy. When I didn't win, he was disappointed in me. When my mom married my stepdad, we kept to ourselves at first, but he's honestly twice the man my dad was. It's hard to say that, but it's true. The one thing he said to me before he married my mom was that he never hurt us and always protect us. It's been five years and he's kept his promise. He's always been amazing to my mom and me, and I admit that he spoils me sometimes. He'll take care of my chores for me and gets me whatever I want, even though I didn't ask. for it. If he hears me talking about something, he'll just get it for me. He always asks if I have

enough money and if I don't, he'll transfer money into my checking account. We don't really talk about personal stuff, but he's always said I can talk to him about anything whenever I feel like it. Today we were at the store and some older guy accused me of giving him in a dirty look while we were in the parking lot. I didn't know what he was talking about and told him, I didn't even look at him, but he shoved me to the ground. My stepdad jumped in so fast that I didn't even see what happened. I heard him hit the guy and when I got up, his asshole was on the ground looking scared and holding his nose. My stepdad was shouting at him in a scary voice. You don't ever put your hands on him. He helped me up and the guy got back in his car and spit away. After that, he didn't

want me to leave his sights in the store. The whole way home he kept apologizing that he didn't step in earlier and telling me he never wanted me to see him fight. I've never even seen him get mad or raise his voice. It was scary, but it also made me feel so weird. I can't explain it, but it feels like I finally know how much he loves me. We never say it to each other, but I always know how he feels. When we got home, I told him I loved him for the first time. He gave me the hardest hug I've ever had, and I almost started crying. I'm dying.

I have to talk about it to someone. I can't keep the secret anymore. I have cancer. Brain cancer. Discovered way too late to do something about it. In a month, I'll probably be gone. be gone. I just said to my friends that I'm going to my family for a month. Too bad I'm not coming back. I don't want them to see me die. I had the dream of becoming an actor. Now it's a little too

late for that. Don't take your life for granted. One day you might find out that it'll be way shorter than you imagine. I don't want to be treated like a victim. I just wanted to take everything. I had weighing on my stomach and throw it all out. Edit. Wow. Thank you all so much for the support. It means a lot to me. You guys are fantastic.

Edit two. I read all of your comments and it warms my heart like nothing else. Sorry if I don't answer, but you guys are so much that it would be impossible. Still, thanks again. Love you all. I want to say something to you. Throughout the day, ask yourself, if I die right now, would I be happy with what I did in my life? if the answer is yes then keep doing what you're doing if the answer is no then something has to change

i hope this helps live life to the fullest and unfortunately this post was posted nine years ago so we can only assume that the opi has long since passed but i hope the opi had a great final time living and had a great last few months or last month with his family and friends hopefully. And I think that ending sentence was so impactful. Live life to the fullest. And if you aren't happy with what you're doing now, make a change because you never know when, you know, this life might end for you. And yeah, let's get into some comments.

Someone says, fuck. I know I'm just a stranger on the internet and my words maybe won't mean much to you, but I think telling your first, friends about your situation is something you should do because when they get the notice unexpectedly they will feel bad for not doing something before you should thank them for the time you have spent with them and everything they have done for you i know it is cliche but if you have something you regret not doing before now is the time i truly hope you spend your last days living not dying if you want to talk or anything just p.m me and uh yeah i agree i don't think he should keep it from his friends

because then they might regret it. Because, you know, people just assume you're going to be around for longer and they're going to be like, no, I'm not going to see you or I'm not going to hang out. You're still going to be around. And then you suddenly die and they will live their life and regret not going to see you. And yeah, just a super sad post. And all the comments are extremely supportive, but I just hope that the O.P. is, you know, in a better place now in doing the best he can wherever he is.

but extremely sad post and very, very impactful. I got into drugs and then a hard downward spiral. Some effects suck. Long read, but I got to get it off my chest. It started in high school when I loved smoking Zaza. I also discovered adult videos around then and would smoke and watch it. In college, Zaza started giving me bad anxiety, worrying about dumb things, so I stopped. I lived in a European country for six months for an internship and discovered the booger sugar.

I was hooked. I went broke on booger sugar and booze. Almost cost me my internship. When I got back to the States, I found hookup and it was shitty, so I eventually quit it. A few years later, I was the manager at a restaurant, and one of the other managers was a mule of sorts. He would hide bricks of fish-scale colored booger sugar in the ceiling tile in the bathroom, until someone came to pick it up. I got a discount on this stuff, and I was back to using.

This time, it was daily. All day. I would get off work around 10, then go to the gym, and do some booger sugar, in the bathroom, and workout for a couple hours. Well, one day the plug dried up, so I went to another worker who knew a guy. I did this stuff at home, and it wrecked my nose. Painful. I went to the bar with the other manager who mentioned it had ice in it. He had used it too.

I knew it was bad, but the way it made me feel was so different. Crystal clear vision. Everything's so bright. I felt so energetic and productive. Eventually, I stopped bothering with the cut stuff and got crystal straight up from one of the line cooks. And then he goes into explicit detail of what he did. I can't say it, but he really started to enjoy it. And then he says, I started getting reclusive.

Staying in my house by myself, most days I was off, watching really weird, nasty adult videos. One day, I started seeing what looked like gas vapors, distortion coming from my outlet. I started staring at my outlets in my house for hours. I was getting super paranoid, thinking I had gas leaks in my outlets, constantly looking out my windows, for I have no idea what. I started seeing shadows in the corners of my vision. Eventually, I ended up losing my job.

crying about being a failure, I went to the place where the girl I was quasi-dating works. She was often alone. I confessed to the drug spiral and she completely disowned me, said she was disgusted and to get out. I went to a bar and got destroyed. Alcohol poisoning levels. I stopped the hard stuff cold turkey the next day and started applying for a very different type of job.

I ended up getting one and now I'm decently successful at it. I have a loving wife and a child and a good home, but every now and then, I get flashbacks of the sharp sting in my nostrils, and it makes me want to vomit. I still occasionally look at the outlets to see if they're leaking. I have no desire to touch the stuff, but I really want those memories to go away. And now at this point in this video, this story is once again a great reminder that addiction is a slippery slope, and what might start as an innocent addiction to one thing, or an instant pastime can then spiral and ruin your life and ruin your health and everything.

So just another great reminder. And let's get into some comments. Someone says the memories are important. If you didn't have them, you wouldn't know not to go there. It sounds like you are adventurous and like to figure out life for yourself. And even more so, when you were young. Just take them as a chapter in your life. Been there, done that, don't need to go back.

Also, at least now you'll be on top of it if there's an electrical fire. And then the opi response saying, I tried to remind myself that the memories of how horrid it was is what's keeping me on track. I still like to drink, but I'll keep that as my vice as it's under control. The electrical fire comment got me laughing. And yeah, everyone just collectively says, I'm glad he made it to the other side. I'm glad the addiction didn't get you because for a lot of people, you know, Once you get to that hard stuff, it is very, very hard to get out and turn your life around.

But it sounds like he's doing great now. I hope the opi is doing well. He's still active on his profile. So hopefully he's doing well. If you see this video, reach out. And I hope you're doing well. And yeah, just anyone watching. I hope this is a good reminder to keep control of your addictions and be very, very careful of what you led into your life.

I went out for a few drinks and came back with all my accounts emptied. So really, I just could not piece together how this has happened. I was in my hometown, on a casual night out with friends, and after we parted ways, I have a period of absolutely no memory, and all of my bank accounts, business, personal, and savings, with two separate banks, have had all the money taken out. There are ATM withdrawals from two accounts at about 4 a.m., and these were the two accounts I had bank cards on my person for.

So I initially thought perhaps I'd had a card cloned whilst I was out, but I was only using one of them, so it makes no sense how they could have both been copied and used successfully. It gets a lot worse, however. After taking the max possible out via ATM, there is a further 2,000 euros spent in a currency exchange and another 1,500 euros in what shows in my banking app as a restaurant, though not somewhere I can find any information on. To use my cards in the machines, they'd need my pin. They could have seen me entering this whilst I was out,

but I'm completely at a loss as to how they'd get the pin for both cards when I was only using one. Worse yet, there was a transfer made from a completely separate bank account of mine into the current account I had the card for. This can only have been made via the app on my phone, which is authorized using my fingerprint. So the crooks topped up the account they had the cards for with more of my money, which they then stole.

So there's three separate accounts they've been able to access somehow, and I've also been getting texting emails about loan applications made in my name. This means they've had access to my phone, my bank accounts, and my email. How could they have gotten all this? I've blocked all my accounts, not that there's anything left to take from them, and frankly, the bank aren't being very helpful. The police were a little more interested in have taken a full statement and pledged to look at CCTV from the various places cash has been taken out and spent.

However, I'm still concerned this isn't over because I can't see any way they could do this without my phone being compromised, and I haven't worked out how this has happened. Fairly sure, I must have been spiked to have this six to eight hour blackout window. But does this mean they've just used my finger whilst I was passed out to keep unlocking my phone and authorize the transactions they've made? because I've still got my phone and my cards, so why wouldn't they have just kept these or disposed of them? In a further twist of curiosity,

both my main banking apps on my phone had disappeared from the folder they sit in. The apps are still on my phone, but have been moved, either in a failed attempt to uninstall them, or it could be that these aren't the legit apps and are some kind of clones that were installed in place of the originals. So can anyone piece together any suggestions as to how this has all been carried?

out? Is it possible there's some kind of phone cloning going on? Or is it more likely I've just been drugged and they've managed to get everything they need from my phone whilst I was out of it? I realize now how vulnerable it is having all of your banking on your phone and all of its access with your fingerprint. If it hadn't needed a pin or unlock pattern, surely there's no way they could have gotten in. Obviously, I feel completely awful for letting myself get scammed so badly and I'm not holding out any hope that there's any way to get any of my money back, which was literally everything I own. I just really wish I could get a better understanding of how this has happened to me. Is this a targeted attack or just opportunistic, and I've just been very unlucky? What could the

mystery 1500 euro payment before? If anyone recognizes any of the weird stuff here, please do let me know, as even the police seemed a bit baffled at the fact I'd had three separate accounts professionally emptied and yet still have my bank cards and phone and oh my gosh this is just such a scary situation i can't imagine waking up and being like oh my god all of my money is gone i don't know what happened and they emptied everything from my name i mean that is so scary but let's get into some comments someone says you didn't let someone scam you you were hurt and robbed and i'm horrified for you this is a sickening crime on your person i understand the need to lock down your assets first but also take the time when you can to face the trauma of this it'll sneak up on you if you don't also see a doctor if you haven't

already someone knocked you out for six to eight hours jesus that is deadly serious getting some blood work done and getting a physical exam is important for your peace of mind and then the opi replies saying thank you it has been difficult to process because i'm just so clueless as to what could have happened and half of me thinks I must have just been very stupid, and this is my fault, whilst the other half is just utterly confused. It's part of the reason I started this thread because I don't understand what's happened. And then the OP gives us a quick update, saying, quick update for all those interested. I've collected all the activity I've discovered via Google's invasive, but useful snooping, and I'm speaking with the investigating officer today to update on all of this,

including the location history showing times of car journeys, and all the times various different accounts were accessed, including my government tax account. I asked about getting tested for drugs, and they said it may not yet be too late, plus I've collected my own urine samples just in case. Though I'm not holding out hope anyone will want that, so I'll follow up on this today.

I've continued to harass the bank, and they finally responded saying they will log out all instances of my account. Why would there even be more than one? And then I'll have to authorize myself again and hope this secures the account. There's no word on getting any of the money back, but when I speak to the police later, I'll ask about CCTV and the cash machines, and I'm genuinely curious to see if I feature in this footage. This has been incredibly useful getting advice and support from everyone here,

and I honestly don't know where I'd be without it, so thank you to everyone who's gotten involved. I just didn't know where to start, and now I have a lot more detail on what has possibly happened along with accounts of other people who've gone through similar, which helps me feel. a little less alone. I'm happy to come back and update further for anyone who might want to keep up with the proceedings. Hopefully the CCTV from my building, the ATM, the bar I was in, and the mysterious places my cards have been used will have something useful between them. I'll also see if the car can be identified from any cameras the neighbors may have. Thank you again. It really has made a big difference. And then the OP makes another comment giving us another update saying,

For anyone still interested, I finally spoke to the police again after days of them avoiding me. They said they're trying to get CCTV from the bar and places transactions have been made, but I'm a bit disappointed that five days later, they still haven't actually looked at anything. The Challenger Bank have made zero progress and keep just saying they're escalating, whatever that actually means. I've made a few inquiries myself at places my money has been spent, but struggling to get a hold of anyone who will help. It's all very deflating, but I'll keep. keep at it. In a bit of good news, however, the second bank did refund me and they've actually

been really nice. That money does at least mean I can meet my rent this month so I feel slightly less immediately stressed about finances. I also managed to speak to someone at one of the credit reference agencies, two, who confirmed the loan applications made in my name, none of which appeared to have been successful so far, thankfully. He also put a password on my credit file so that future credit applications would need to know that password. That's something I didn't know you could do, and to be honest, wasn't something I'd have ever previously thought you'd even need to do. Finally, I managed to order a cheap drug test kit

using the small balance in my PayPal account, and I'll use that on the urine sample I saved. I don't imagine anyone will take that seriously, but if it does pick up anything, I will at least provide me a bit of vindication. It'll be nice to get rid of the pot of piss in my fridge too. And then the OP gives us another comment update saying, quick Tuesday update. Now the bank holiday weekend is over.

I'll hopefully get a bit more progress with the bank, being able to help me with the unrecognized transactions, so I'll be chasing them today. I was supposed to speak to the police yesterday to follow up, but the callback never came, and when I chased it, they told me it would have to be today instead. So fingers crossed, they call, and I'm keen to see if they've accessed any relevant CCTV yet, though I'm not holding my breath. On that note, I called the bar to ask about CCTV from the night and explain the situation. They seemed very defensive like I was trying to illegally gain access to their footage,

but I explained I just wanted to make sure it wasn't erased before the police had a chance to review it. They gave me a pretty shitty they can have it if they asked for it. And I was a bit surprised they weren't more sympathetic and helpful to be honest. I've barely left my home since this happened, so I'm half tempted to visit some of the locations. in my phone's history and do a bit of amateur detective work, but I feel pretty anxious about going out, so I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet. Thanks again to everyone who's shown kindness and support. In the absence of anywhere IRL to turn, this has been quite therapeutic being

able to discuss it openly and also hear from others with similar experiences. And then the OP gives us another update saying minor updates for anyone still following. The police have now reviewed all the CCTV they could get a hold of and have determined that each time my card was used, the person using it was obscured. The hotel, the off license, and the two currency chains are all inconclusive. The footage from the bar also fails to show anything suspicious. Disappointing though, not entirely unexpected. I guess these guys were professionals and knew how to avoid detection. Anyway, I've now lodged my claim with the ombudsman in the absence of any further evidence, my case so I guess I just wait to see if they'll find in my favor against the bank.

One additional piece of intriguing information has come to light, however. When I requested all the data the bank hold on me, there is a record of my account details having been added to an Apple Pay account on a device labeled Jacob's iPhone. I've never owned an iPhone or used Apple Pay, nor do I know anyone called Jacob. So this is a pretty major detail the bank never revealed to me or even a asked me about. Naturally, I've explained this in my statement to the on Buzzman, so let's see what happens. Getting my money back is all I have left now. Seems I'll never know what actually happened that night, and I'm really frustrated at this. I never expected justice would be served to the crooks

who did this, but I did hold out some faint hope. I might get at least some answers. And then the OP gives us another update saying back again with another not too exciting updates, but an update nonetheless. I decided to do a bit of my own detective work and visited some of the places my card slash phone was used. One was a fairly shady currency exchange, but they were actually quite helpful and said they keep their CCTV and would be happy to share it. When I showed them the transaction in my app, they said that transactions of just $20 or more would be required to fill in a form with personal details. This suggests to me that these scammers were well aware of how to do this, as if I didn't know

already in order to extract the max they could without being flagged. The second currency exchange, the one that was originally listed as a restaurant, also confirmed they'd keep their CCTV for six weeks, so there's still time to get it at if the police play ball. Another transaction was at a hotel in town at 4.30 a.m., so I visited the hotel to inquire about it. I was pleasantly surprised to find the guy at the desk was very keen to help and informed me that the payment was made to pay for a booking that had been made online.

well in advance of the night in question. He also confirmed that they'd not use my name. Obviously, I don't expect whatever name they did use was legit, but it's interesting that the booking was made in advance, and they paid for the room at 4.30 a.m. It makes me wonder, was I dumped in this room whilst they took my card and phone on a spending spree? They've also confirmed CCTV is available,

so I have shared all of this with the police who are still avoiding my calls. However, one kindly woman I spoke to did a bit of digging for me and said that whilst it was disappointing nobody would call me back, she discovered that they had apparently obtained footage from the bar I was in where I think I was potentially drugged and this was being reviewed. Difficult to know if this will lead anywhere, but I'd love to see it myself, just to see who I left with and how I looked. The hotel seems like a hot lead because the booking being made in advance could potentially be traced, though I can't imagine any. anyone will put the effort in to really dig into it. But again, the CCTV footage would be interesting. The bank have sent their final decision, saying that their response was poor, so I've been credited with 90 euros compensation.

Not even 2% of what's been taken. That's really disappointing. But reiterated, they will not be returning the money. In some ways, this is useful because their final decision means I can now start an official complaint with the Ombudsman. What's more, there are. official response said the reason for not returning the money was that they didn't believe the activity was fraudulent. I've heard they can sometimes reject claims based on customer negligence, not taking enough care to protect their account, but the fact they've stated they think it wasn't

fraudulent basically means they're accusing me of taking the money myself. This means that if I can actually get any evidence of what's happened, I might have a fairly strong case against them. Weirdly, this week I've had notifications from another bank and from Instagram that my account has been accessed from another device elsewhere. I've changed on my passwords and reset my phone to factory settings but can still see there was another device accessing my Google account. It was showing two devices registered with access to my account though. I've now revoked access to the one I did recognize. Also, the other bank from which the Crooks transferred funds have sent me a letter acknowledging I was a victim of an account

takeover. So they've recognized something dodgy is going on. They've recently. set everything with my security, so hopefully it's all secure now, but it does suggest the other bank are just ignoring the issue, especially as throughout my communication with them, since it happened, I've had several alerts asking me to sign out on my other device. I don't have another device. Digging further into my Google search history, there's all the loan applications, but also attempts to access my tax account with HMRC, the government's tax authority for anyone who's not in the UK. and I've also found sites in the history claiming to be able to issue tax rebates. This makes me wonder if, after making all the loan applications that apparently didn't work,

the scammers tried to use a company to see if I was eligible for a tax rebate they could quickly access, though it seems unlikely that anyone could get a tax rebate the same day. Unless they anticipated being able to access my account's longer term, I'm still really paranoid that my phone is not secure, but I've completely wiped it and changed all my login details. I'm not sure if I previously mentioned it, but there was a second fingerprint added to my phone security settings, and when I raised this with the police,

they said I'd have to ask the manufacturer if there was any way to determine when this was added and if it was possible to extract it. Unsurprisingly, they said no. In any case, it is gone now as I've reset everything, but I'm still unsure as to whether someone took my phone and could have added their own fingerprint or whether the fingerprint was added to some secondary cloned device.

I just don't know if I was present or not because I have absolutely zero memory for about eight hours. I really would love to know what happened that night and how this is all pulled off, but I suspect it will always remain a mystery. I know that not having any memory of it makes it difficult to prove I wasn't just wasted and someone nicked my phone, but the fact I still have my phone just makes it all more odd. I could have just said my phone and cards were stolen, claimed on the insurance, and maybe the bank would have refunded me, but I was honest that I didn't know what happened, even though I'm certain I wasn't just blackout drunk. And even if I had been, how would these people I've been able to get so much of my personal data in order to have all of the loan applications, etc, if I was just passed out? I'm still so confused, but the lead from the hotel and the fact that everywhere appears to have CCTV gives me a bit of hope that,

I could at least get some answers. It makes no sense to me that I could have been present in all these places the money was taken without any knowledge, but I guess if they had my phone or a clone of it, I don't really need to be present once it's unlocked, though you'd think buying over 3,000 euros worth of foreign currency should require some checks. And now on to one of the final updates, the Opie says, thought I'd drop in for another update in case anyone is still following. Pretty depressing, I'm afraid. The bank finally concluded they would not. not be you're funding any of the stole money, and have closed my accounts, citing that they reserve the right to do so without needing a reason. Just before this, they finally identified

the mysterious 2K transaction to a merchant that was listed as a restaurant. It wasn't a restaurant at all, but another currency exchange place that had taken the name of a now defunct travel agent. Took them 10 days to finally find this out, and I've still got no address. To say I'm angry is an understatement. I've continued to chase the police because nobody will provide CCTV for review without them requesting it, but I cannot get anyone there to speak to me. I keep being told they'll call me back, but nobody ever calls. I don't want to complain about the police because I want to work with them and keep my cool so they might eventually help, but there's obviously a time limit on how long all the footage of the various places my cash has been withdrawn or spent will be kept.

Because nobody will speak to me, the clock is ticking on ever, because ever being. being able to get clear evidence that I have not just gone around town emptying all my accounts and throwing the money away. A beggars believed that they could side with whoever did this simply because nobody will share evidence that will shed some light on what's happened, but at the moment, that's where I am. Obviously, I'll raise an official complaint to the financial embudsman here in the UK. Explaining the bank account has failed to protect my funds and provided no explanation as to how the money could have ever been so quickly and efficiently extracted.

but I've got no idea how long this will take or whether it will ever get anywhere given this frustrating lack of evidence despite the fact it clearly exists. It has been a horrible couple of weeks and the administrative nightmare of it all just goes on. I need to organize moving on my regular payments and where my income is deposited

whilst also navigating official complaint procedures and continuing to chase the police. I've already had to negotiate delays to various bills being paid simply because there's no money to pay them. I've contacted press trying to help lean on the useless bank, but so far nothing has come of this, and some people have suggested I now take this to my MP to see if they can exercise some kind of authority, at least on the

local police force, who don't seem to be doing anything. I appreciate I'm not the most needy victim they need to support right now, but I've lost all my money and I've been severely impacted by this, forced to borrow from family just to get by. Obviously, I'd love answers, but more than anything, I just want my money back. acknowledgement that I've not acted negligently in sharing access to my bank accounts. I still have no idea how this all happened, or even if I'm still at risk from future attempts to extract money from accounts, I'll now need to open, not to mention the risk of being burgled, given whoever did this has all my personal details and my home address. It's depressing and it's frustrating,

but all I can do is keep fighting until I've exhausted every possible option. One thing is for sure, I'll be advising everyone I ever meet to avoid this dodgy challenger bank at all costs, appalling service, and a total failure in their duty of care towards a loyal customer. Thank you again to everyone who has shown compassion and sent supportive messages to me. I really do appreciate everyone's advice and kind words. I don't want money from anyone but the bank who failed me, but it has been nice to know that people care. Keep being good people. We need you in the world.

And then the OP gives us another update. I won't read this one in full, but basically the police are still not getting the CCTV footage. And she's still having issues with the bank account. And oh my God, I just feel so bad for her because she's the victim in this crime, but she's fighting so much to get any sort of acknowledgement that it even happened. I mean, it's just so sad to me. But that's basically one of the last updates saying, hey, the police are still not really helping me, and I don't really know what to do.

And this was around three years ago. In the last update we ever got was about a year ago when the OPE replied to a commenter who asked, did you ever find out whether or not you had been drugged? And the OPE replied saying, no. There was no way to tell. I did take a test, but it was over 24 hours later. Unfortunately, nothing showed up, and I didn't realize how quickly you need to get on it. I will never know what happened that night, but at least I've,

eventually got the money back. Okay, well, that's a good final update. The O.P. seemed to get the money back, even though it seemed like it was a never-ending struggle with the bank. But, God, that's just such a depressing and disturbing story. I mean, the O.P, who is obviously a victim of a crime and was seemingly drugged by some sort of drug, was fighting for months or weeks to get her money back,

to get any sort of acknowledgement of the police. The police just were like, yeah, I mean, I guess we'll get to it. And then they never got to it. So they don't know who the perpetrator was or perpetrators was. And God, it's just so scary that you can be a victim of a crime and like you just won't get help from anybody. Like this OP, if the OP didn't fight so hard, the OP would have never got that money back. And it doesn't seem the police ever caught anybody. So at least the OPE got money back.

But who knows? Like these guys are still out here probably doing. doing that. But it's just so sad and for everyone watching, please be safe out there. And if you're out about night, going to bars, whatever, just be very, very careful of who you surround yourself with, with strangers or whatever. I mean, it's not the OPE's fault here, but still, it's just please be aware because, you know, this can happen to any of you, sadly. So, please just be aware and be just wary of strangers because you never know who might want to take advantage of you. But it's just such a sad story. And I know this is a very long one,

but I thought each update was very insightful and interesting because it was kind of like a detective case. The OP is like, okay, then I figured this out, figured this out. Oh, this happened, this happened. And I thought it was much better than just reading the first thread and then just summarizing myself. I thought going and reading the OP's own words was very insightful,

but a very sad story. But at least the OP got money back and hopefully those guys face justice from somebody. I once played pedestrian chicken while driving back when I used to be a drug out. addict. I've been clean from pills for over three years now. However, at the peak of my addiction, about six or seven years ago, I would mix heavy doses of multiple pills combined with alcohol and Zaza, then go out driving. One time I was messed up driving around with my friend, and I started

purposefully veering towards pedestrians, like families pushing prams, old couples, runners, etc., walking on the footpath. And then at the last moment, when I got real close, I would quickly turn away and straighten up in the lane. I guess the intention was to freak them out and get a reaction, which of course it did. I remember doing it maybe three or four times that day. My friend's reaction was complete shock. And I guess in my state I found that amusing could have easily lost control in my drugged upstate and crippled someone for life or killed them. I can't ask anyone for forgiveness, seen as I'm not religious, but damn, do I feel like a piece of shit when I reflect on this sometimes? I can't forgive myself. Anyway, after many DUIs and car crashes and narrowly escaping

death numerous times, I eventually went to rehab, sobered up, and no longer own a car or drive. I'm so lucky to escape having caused no lasting injury to anyone, including myself. Still, when I'm alone with my thoughts, the day I played Russian, roulette with other people's lives just for kicks will always return to haunt me i smoked crystal and it was the most terrifying experience of my life it was about eight days ago and today is the first day i felt somewhat normal enough to make a post like this i need to talk to someone about it but the earliest therapy appointment i could book was on february fifth and i don't want to talk to family me about this, nor do I want to put it on Facebook.

Anyway, it started with drinking alcohol, the real gateway drug, and a penchant for putting myself in precarious situations. So, last weekend, after drinking at my friend's house, I was going to hop on the bus and go home. But all the way back, I ended up getting into a conversation with these homeless people. My inhibitions and guard were lowered, so I ended up going back to their tent with them and hanging out for a while. I've been homeless in the past, so this, along with being really drunk, made this situation seem a lot more normal than it really was. They asked if I wanted to smoke some

clear, and I impulsively said yes. Of course, I was paying. When we got back in the tent and the crystal was in the pipe, we smoked it, and I smoked probably way more than a first-time user would usually smoke. Besides, two or three hours of feeling pretty nice, the whole thing was fucking horrific. First things first, I was hot as fuck and the foulest, most unnatural sweaty smell was emanating from my body. But no matter how much deodorant or soap I used, nothing could make me smell better. Secondly, the feeling never seemed to ever wear off. And I don't mean in a good way. The fun part is over very quickly. After that, you become like a rat in a cage, just a slave to your impulses and what the crystal does to you.

And the amount I smoked kept me up for over three days. And I was actually trying to go to bed. I took Tylenol, PM, and everything. I spent the first 12 hours with an insanely unnatural, intimate drive. And I even hired a lady of the night to be with. But I was tweaking too hard to even calm down and I couldn't get bricked. So I ended up just getting to a hotel and snooking it a lot. But I couldn't even enjoy that because that's when the psychosis kicked in.

By this point, I hadn't really slept, so I started having auditory and visual hallucinations, like hearing sirens and imagining that there were people outside my hotel window. I probably spent like 12 hours peeking out of the window blinds, looking for cops or people who might be coming to kill me and people. I shit you not. This is not like weed paranoia or any other kind of hallucinations, you've ever had. I literally,

literally thought there were people outside my window. I even called the hotel front desk twice to ask them to tell the people to stop gathering outside my window. And I felt so fucking dumb and confused when the guy came out and checked and told me there were no people there. That was more or less the story of the next couple of days. I was feeling progressively worse and worse and just wanting more than anything to no longer have crystal in my system, but the paranoia and hallucinations were still going strong.

I was tweaking and jerking my head around every time I thought I heard a siren or someone walking behind me and probably looked crazy as fuck to people on the street. It got to the point where I was losing touch with reality, and I had no clue if I was imagining conversations or if they were really happening. I kept hoping that it wasn't permanent and that would be okay after the crystal were off. Luckily, that seems to be the case. I do feel a little weird still, but I think part of that is just being really shaken by the experience. After three days of everyone looking at me like I was a monster, smelling like unnatural demon sweat, and almost losing my mind, I was finally able to get

some sleep. And it took me about four days to finally start to feel better. I am entering outpatient rehab next week because if I hadn't been drinking so much, I wouldn't have gotten in such a horrible situation in the first place. Crystal was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced. But if the experience helps me live a life free of alcohol in other drugs, then I guess it was a good thing in the long run. I bullied my brother to the point his own life. And that is just how the title reads. It's a little bit wonky. I don't know why, but let's get into the post. Hello, this is a little hard to type out. But I feel I must tell someone about what I've done years ago. This whole entire thing took years to even develop

before he couldn't take it anymore. I used to be an only child until my little brother came along. I think the main reasons I've even bullied him was because I was jealous how much attention he was receiving from my parents. It started off as normal siblings. We would be kind to each other, play with each other, but eventually I grew to hate him about four years after he was born. We would always fight, hit each other. Obviously, every time I hit him, he would cry. But that never stopped me from doing so. Despite getting shouted at by parents that would only fuel my anger with him,

I was always a troublemaker at school. We would start fights with other kids, using lame insults that would make the kids upset. I never knew to contain my anger. Now back to my brother. While he was in grade 7 through 10, I would always shit talk him. Despite him always being kind to me, wanting to hang out with me. Yet I always turned him down and insulted him. Even with his schooling, he would be a straight-A student.

I would still talk down on him about how stupid he is, why is even alive, how spoiled he is. No matter what he did, it would always piss me off in some way or another. He was a very kind brother. despite how he would sometimes mimic some of the bad stuff he'd see online, all he needed was to be guided properly. By an older brother, he never got. Instead, he would be physically and verbally abused by his older brother, not knowing exactly why.

But before he could even get the chance to graduate high school and go to college, he ended up committing S-word. family and friends never knew why but obviously i did it never sunk in what i caused until a month after when we were at his funeral years has passed since the incident and i still cry thinking about the way i treated him it pains me very much to even type this out always frustrated out what i've done in the past took away a life of a wonderful little brother, took away his future before we even became proper siblings. I'll never see him grow up anymore,

nor will anything I do atone for my actions. I will carry this burden that I've brought upon myself until the day I die. I'm sorry for what I've done. I've straightened up my life, never resorting to violence with other people or doing anything horrible to others. We'll live the rest of my life being an honest and kind person.

Someone that my brother could have looked up to. Thank you for reading. And, man, that is just so sad. These posts in today's video are just crazy. But let's get into some top comments. Someone says, you were his burden in life. Now he will be the burden, the rest of yours.

And wow, that is a hell of a way to put it. You were his burden in life, and now he will be your burden. Wow, that just really hits on. That's just the top comment. That is just, wow, that really hits hard. He put it perfectly. I mean, wow. Someone else says, I have no words.

Someone replies saying, my thoughts too. I have nothing positive to say, so I'll keep moving. And Jesus Christ, man. What a post. In the final comment I'll read on this post, someone says, My sister was like you. I still suffer psychologically every single day. It took her moving across the country for us to get along.

This is your punishment. You get to live with what you did. And, um, wow. And this is the only single post on the entirety of the OPs profile. This is the only post, no comments, no anything. And the O.P.'s name is nothing but regrets. Geez. This post just hit really hard.

I mean, that is just such a depressing situation because obviously the O.P. Now has to live with that burden that he bullied his brother to death, really. And his brother is now no longer living and can no longer live the life he could have lived. And, yeah, that is just so. shocking and so sad. Such a sad situation. I've lied to everyone in my life for 20 years that I'm Jewish.

I'm not Jewish, not even a little bit. If you asked me any questions about Judaism, I couldn't tell you. But still, everyone thinks I'm Jewish. It all started in high school, 11th grade. I just moved from California to the south and it was a rough time. I was called every horrible name in the book because they talked different and got the shit beat out of me multiple times. Well, I saw, slowly befriended some of the guys on the football team, and my closest friend was the center. We'll call him Greg. Now, Greg is a super chill guy compared to everyone around him, but he's still very, very racist and very open about all of his opinions. Well, one day, I'm driving Greg and a few other football players home from school, and he makes it a comment about synagogues, without even

thinking I mentioned that I've been to one, and this is where it all started. This prompted one of the other guys just joke that I was a Jew and trying to be chill since these were the only friends I had. I went, ha ha, yep, I'm Jewish. And then that's when it all went downhill. Greg told everyone on the football team how his new friend from California was a Jew, and they all believed it, since most of them thought they were only Jews in California anyways. And the football players spread that to the rest of the school. At this point, I still thought it was a joke and everyone was just jokingly called me Jewish, so I just kept going with it. Then I became known as the Jewish kid and started to actually become popular since everyone wanted to be friends with the different kid.

And the fact my dad had money, a lot compared to the poor area, I went to school so I could afford to buy nice things and people tend to be attracted towards that. And so being Jewish almost became my identity. It became who I was. So whenever someone asked my religion, I just automatically told them I was Jewish. Fast forward to the end of high school. And the counselors are walking people through scholarship stuff. My counselor calls me to his office and hands me a slip for $5,000 Jewish American Scholarship. Now, as soon as I read Jewish American scholarship, I was going to walk out and throw it out. But he made me sit down and fill it out with him and then took it from me to submit it. I felt horrible for even doing it. But someone relieved when I heard that, they only give it to people

who are also ethnically Jewish, so I knew I wouldn't get it. I got it. I received a letter in the mail saying I was chosen as the winner of this $5,000 scholarship. I got accepted to Dartmouth due to the fact I worked my ass off in high school and was the Valk Victorian, though my competition wasn't plentiful to say the least. But I never thought I would have been able to afford it, but this scholarship was huge in helping me towards that. I considered spilling everything then, declining the scholarship, telling everyone at school, telling almost every single form I filled out, saying I'm not actually Jewish. I decided to tell my dad and ask him for advice as he's always been a guy you can talk to him about anything whatsoever. So I tell him everything. I tell him about the joke, then the lie,

then everything and now the scholarship, which I hadn't told any of my family about because one, I never thought I'd get it, and two, they'd question why a very not Jewish person is getting a Jewish-American scholarship, and as soon as they told my father, he looked me dead in the eyes with the most serious,

disappointed face, and then burst into tears laughing. The way he reacted, it must have been the funniest thing he's ever heard in his life. He told me, he had gotten a letter in the mail asking if I was ethnically Jewish for a scholarship I had entered. And being the person he is, he just said, the chance for college money and went, yep, Jewish. And that was apparently all they need.

So my dad convinced me to keep the money and go to my dream college. And I did. As soon as I arrived at university, I was met with some people from the group that gave me the scholarship, some Jewish American organization funded by wealthy Israelis. And they told me, enlisted me into all these Jewish clubs and they told me to get set up in the synagogue. And I, everyone there, I'd later learn two of the people there would be my professors who were very Jewish. And finally, they told me they'd set me up with the whole birthright thing where they fly American Jews out to Israel. I was so shocked. I was at my dream school, plus I was being hit with all of this. It was too much. I thought about coming clean a lot of times, but I feel like all the people around me would

suddenly feel betrayed and leave me. I became good friends with a lot of people in these Jewish clubs. I bonded with my teachers a lot better since they believed I was Jewish. I met the most beautiful Jewish girl, who I met through her mother when she came out to me in a cafe. Asked if I was Jewish since I was with the local rabbi, I said yes, and she told me that I love her daughter. We went on a date and instantly hit it off. And I got a free trip to Israel. All the while, I was dealing with severe depression since I felt horrible every second of it every day. In addition to the already enormous amounts of stress university puts on you,

I came so close, so many times to just throw myself off a bridge or top building, but I could never bring myself to do it. I managed to get all the way through 11 years of college to get my doctorate. Got a job at a history museum back on the West Coast, married that Jewish girl, had a Jewish wedding with her entire family, and my two parents. My dad had spilled the beans to my mom about two days after I told him. She also found it equally as funny. We've had three little Jewish babies.

The museum put me in charge of organizing and creating a huge Holocaust-slash-Jewish-American history exhibit, even though that's not my specific field even in the slightest. And in a few months, when the current curator retires at the age of 96, I will hopefully be taking his place. He's been training me for the job. I've worked through the longest and I've made sure that I'm damn good at my job. My life has turned out great, but deep down, it will always haunt me, that my entire life is built on a lie. My kids' lives, my life, my wife's life, all came from a joke in a car 20 years ago. I was never going to tell us all about this, but today my oldest son, he's nine, told me that he doesn't think he believes in God.

I told him I agreed. It was the first time in 20 years that I was told the truth about my religion and didn't lie. My son wanted to tell his mom that he doesn't want to continue being Jewish, and I might use this as my way of getting out as well. I told him that we'd tell her tomorrow at dinner, and he seems almost as excited as I am, but equally as nervous. Wish us luck, I guess. I still am unsure if I should tell her the whole truth, or if I should just leave it with that I no longer want to be Jewish. Edit, just for clarification, because people have been questioning my use of the word university in place for college. Yes, I know they're not the same thing. I've just been surrounded by British people lately, and they all use university, so I've been saying that instead of college. It's a recently adopted

habit, and I can assure you I'm American, born in Folsom, California, moved to Orange County, and then to Santa Clara, California, where I live from my most of my younger life until my family moved to Americas, Georgia. I can assure you, I'm definitely American. And as for my wife, not finding out from my side of the family. It's mainly due to the fact that we don't talk to my side of the family for personal reasons, and I haven't talked to them in years. and she's only ever met with them once at the wedding, but she also wants nothing to do with them. I've decided I'm just going to tell her I'm not Jewish.

I won't tell her I've lied about being Jewish for all these years, but I'm not going to tell her that I'm not Jewish. Someone also said that since both sides of my family are Czech, there's a good chance I'm Jewish, so I'm thinking of doing a DNA test soon. Also, I said I know nothing about Judaism. That was an extreme exaggeration. I've obviously picked up a lot of knowledge over the years, and I think my wife may have an idea due to the fact,

When a very Jewish holiday is coming up, she'll remind me about it and tell me when it is or what it's for, and I don't already know. I'll update later tonight on how it goes. Edit two. So I talked to her and I decided to just tell her everything and didn't go like I expected. She told me she had a feeling I wasn't Jewish from the beginning but never married me just because I was Jewish, but married me for me, regardless of my faith. She said that she was sorry that I felt like that. I had to hide from her for so many years and that I don't have to pretend to be Jewish if I don't want to. But like a lot of people have commented, I do feel sort of culturally Jewish now. I definitely identify more as a member of the Jewish community than I do any others. We're not going to pressure any of our kids into Judaism, and we're going to let them decide what they want to do for themselves.

My wife and I agreed that it'd be for the best if we gave them back, since all the opportunities afforded to me came from the Jewish community. We're going to get involved with an organization and we're donating to three different scholarships for $5,000 each and try and help fund birthright trips whenever we can. I'd like to thank everyone who's commented with advice, and hopefully this can be a new chapter in my life. My friend of 20 years was arrested for cheese pizza, and I understand how much you guys hate me using the acronym for cheese pizza,

but I have to. I can't say any of the other ones. I read every single comment about it, with you guys giving me suggestions, and I understand it's not, you know, cheese pizza isn't respectful at all, but I just have to say that for the video for YouTube. I'm sorry, but anyways,

Let's continue. This is a super rambling mess of a post in an attempt to vent my anger. I found out that my best friend of 20 years was arrested for cheese pizza, and he fully confessed to it too. Not just that he had it, but was also distributing it. On top of that, it has been going on for years, completely unbeknownst to anyone. I'm just sitting here in complete shock and horror. This person and been the closest thing I have ever had to a brother in my life. He was the best man at my wedding.

His parents were my support during my parents' divorce. My father would joke about how he was a bonus son. Just to find out, he is a monster. Needless to say, he is dead to me. I keep wishing he had just committed S-word. I'm sick now, knowing what he was doing behind everyone's backs. Just so he could get off to the worst possible fantasies a human could have. He was to be the uncle to my kids.

Instead, he was destroying lives for his own pleasure. I've never been so angry as I am now. If given the chance, I would kill him for what he has done. I feel so stupid for not seeing this sooner. My wife says there was nothing. I could have done. The only piece I have is he got caught. I just want to rant. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, you knew and were best friends with one version of him, the version he presented to the world. You didn't know, and you couldn't have known, unless he

confessed to you 20 years ago and you promised to keep a secret for him, which clearly you did not. Then you were blameless for this. Be kind to yourself. The monster within was hidden from view. His victims can get justice now, whether they realize it or not. Every image represents a life that has been damaged and changed, and he should receive the full force of the law. And time to suffer as a tiny portion of the suffering his part in this evil industry has caused to untold innocence. And yeah, I mean, that comment sums up exactly what I was going to say. I mean, he's blameless for this. I mean, I'm sure he still feels some sort of like blame. because he's like, this guy was my best friend.

I mean, you just inherently just feel so close to him. And you're like, I should have done something. But at the same time, he couldn't have known. There's no way he could have known. But I just can't imagine, like, the betrayal he felt when he's like, you were the best man at my wedding. You were going to be my kid's uncle. You were going, like, that is just so, so sad. And, I mean, luckily, he got out of now and didn't just get away with it.

who knows if those fantasies of his could have overcame him and he could have done something you know to opi's kids or whatever i don't know that's all speculative and alleged but you know who knows it's just much better that this guy got caught now and is hopefully going to be locked up for a long long time very sad post and i can only help but feel for the opi and hope he's doing better now i'm dying but haven't told anyone i was diagnosed with cancer a little little over two weeks ago. After a regular checkup, turns out I have a tumor on my colon that has spread to other areas, liver and lungs so far, and will require extensive chemo and surgery for any chance to live longer than eight months. I'm not having any treatment, and I haven't told my

wife because she'll only pressure me to get the treatment, which will result in months of pain and suffering for a relatively small chance of survival. Instead, I'm making sure our last few months together are filled with only happy memories. I'm starting to work later and finishing earlier in the day to make her breakfast in bed and take her on dates in the evenings. My landlord I rent my workshop from has agreed to let me run my business rent free for the next six months, which means significantly less financial stress and I can save a lot more. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, okay, real talk here, O.P. My husband's grandfather did this. Didn't tell us. soul. Made his doctors agree to not mention it to his family if they were ever around.

Him and his doctors called it a side effect of his C-O-P-D. His family accepted that, but it was cancer. And he was dying, maybe a year tops. My kids were with their grandmother, his daughter visiting in the hospital. He was in for pneumonia, which he got quite often and always came home. Another of his daughters was there as his wife had finally gone home to take a nap. Well, he coded with my kids in the room, DNR order. His daughters are screaming because the doctors won't touch him. He's in the hospital so they're supposed to help, right? Thank God my kids were too little to understand what was going on. He passed away with everyone in the hall watching. No warning. They thought he'd come on him in a few days per usual. His wife didn't even get to say goodbye.

The family didn't figure anything was going on about the cancer and him having an expiration date until they demanded to know what was going on. He knew and wanted to save them the heartache. Well, his sons hadn't bothered to come visit because it was in the middle of the week and they worked, along with his hospital stays for this being very normal. They had no closure.

The whole family spread his ashes over the headstone of his wife and he had made when their infant son died decades before. Very solemnly, confused, angry, and lost. Please reconsider doing this to your family. It helps no one but, you. You're going to die, but your wife isn't, and we'll have to live with so many

whys the rest of her life. You don't have to have treatment if you don't want to, but for the love of her, tell her. And I think that last paragraph the commenter said was perfect. If you love her, tell her. Because, I mean, yeah, if you're going to pass away in seven months or so, why not tell her? So seven months from now when you pass away, she's just wondering what the fuck happened? Why you died of cancer and you never, like she would feel betrayed to be honest.

It's like why didn't my husband tell me he was dying? And then she'd be just law. And if you tell her, then, you know, then you can really cherish the last seven months together. If you're going to die, if you know you're going to die in seven, eight months, then why not tell her so you guys can, you know, drop it all, not go to work and, you know, I don't know, spend the last eight months doing whatever. I know that it sounded like they're in some financial troubles, but still, it's like you could

really make something work if you realize this is the last eight months I have with the person instead of just going about it as usual. I mean, I would feel betrayed if I was the OPE's while. Like, imagine your significant other didn't tell you. And they just died keeping a secret from you, a horrible secret. And sure, you might not want to get therapy or whatever, but you, you You don't have to. I don't know. I just, yeah, very emotional post. And the O.P.

posted this seven years ago, and it was on a throwaway account. We haven't heard from the OPE since. So who knows if the OPE passed away. But if the OPE did pass away, then rest in peace. And I hope my OPE's wife is doing better now, but very sad and emotional story. Yeah, wow. On to the next one. I entered a stranger's house to avoid a DUI.

I live in Australia. Not sure how it works in the rest of the world, but I was on my provisional driver's license as a teenager. We call them pee plates. And when you were on that, you cannot have any alcohol in your blood whatsoever. I stayed at my mate's place one night, and he had some beers to drink. I had two knowing I had to drive the next day and was going to stop, but he convinced me to have another, so I did. The next day I got in my car to drive home, and as I was turning in a corner, there were a couple police to an RBT, random breath test, and I panicked. I knew full well I'd have a little bit of alcohol

in me, and that's enough to lose my license for a couple months. I had just left school and gotten a really good job, and if I got a drunk driving charge, I would have to rely my parents to drive me there, which wouldn't work out as they both had jobs. I panicked and turned right on to another street. I drove halfway down the road thinking I'd gotten away with it, but one of the cars suddenly turned around the corner and blasted the sirens. I pulled over and the cop came to my window. And then the cop says, Can you explain to me why you just avoid an RBT?

Instead of explaining to the cop, why, and just taking my punishment, I decided to lie. Me, I wasn't trying to avoid it. I live down here. Then the cop says, Whereabouts do you live? Just over there. Well, you don't mind if I follow you

and watch you enter your house for proof, do you? I kind of shit myself, but agreed. He got in his car and I drove, into a driveway halfway down the street and walked up to the door. My current plan was to just explain to whoever it was at the door what's going on and hope he lets me inside. I walked up and knocked, but no one answered. Then I looked over my shoulder at the cop and turned to just open the door and it was unlocked. I walked inside and shut the door. I was really scared for if whoever lived there was going to walk out and see me and scream, but no one did. I stayed at the door peaking out the

window at the cop and he left after about 10 minutes. I waited another 10 minutes before walking down and driving off again with a big sigh of relief. Not here to condone drunk driving or anything, I made a mistake and it was wrong. Just sharing this story. I caught my mom, who I thought was an angel, having a fair on my dad. Now I can't stand her and see her for the sociopath she is. I grew up loving my mother dearly as most sons do. She was protective, kind, beautiful, successful, and smart, and was someone I strove to be like when I was young. However, I wasn't seeing the side of her that is at her core,

and within the past three years I have come to despise her. She is selfish, manipulative, two-faced in an overall bad human, which is a tough pill to swallow when I adored her for 25 years. It's weird how you don't really know your parents until you become an adult. This will be long and if just one person gets through it, then it was worth riding. I just need to get this off my chest. My parents are in their late 50s.

My dad is very successful, owner of his own business, and is an all-around good guy, great father to my sisters and I, and is a way better husband than my mom deserves. They've been together since they were in high school when in their sophomore years. year, my mom literally pulled a girl out of his Jeep and got him because she wanted to be with him. Red flag. He is more passive, and my mom is aggressive, obviously. Any honey-do list he got, he did it. Anything my mother wanted, she got. His brother and I even always gave him shit for being so whipped. They went into over $90,000 in debt when I was 13 because my mom wanted a big house, Mercedes, and other crap they couldn't afford at the time. We went on expensive vacations that she planned. We

ate at nice restaurants we couldn't afford, and the only thing my dad ever stood his ground on was that he gets to deer hunt with the guys three weekends a year, which my mom still bitched about being left out of. She has always had to be the center of whatever he does in his life, no exceptions. But that isn't what made me see her for who she was. Four years ago, my now wife and I were soon to be married. My mom suggested we all take a motorcycle trip one weekend. My dad and I ride together often with her old co-worker. We'll call him James. She explained he was going through a tough time with his ex-wife and needed to get away. We'd go and have a good time for a weekend, but it just felt weird. It was my mom, dad, and my now wife, and James. The dynamic and overall vibe of being around my mom's old friend was strange.

He was a nice enough guy. He was tall, handsome, rich, and brawny. He had an ex-wife and two kids around my age, and he loved taking pictures of my mom and dad, which creeped me out. Anyways, nothing of importance happened on this trip, but my mom starts acting strange afterwards, and my dad and older sister are the ones who noticed it. At this time, I lived with my fiancé on the other side of the city, but my older sister was living with my parents because she was in grad school and was recently divorced after one year of marriage, found out he was an addict and spent all their money. One night, a few weeks after our motorcycle trip, my fiancé, sister, mom, and I went into an

incubus concert. My mom was acting weird, wanting to smoke pot, downing beers. This isn't like her at all. And just being weird in general. It was like she was a whole different person all of a sudden. After being there for 10 minutes, she said, I'm going to go grab a beer and gets up and disappears for an hour. I went looking for her after she had been gone for 45 minutes, as I was concerned for her safety. And when I came back with no luck, I asked my sister if she's been able to get a hold of her. She rolls her eyes and goes, I didn't bother calling. She's probably calling James. what the fuck?

She then drops a bomb and then tells me she and dad suspect she's having an affair with him. She goes on to explain how sketchy she has been acting, doing things like changing her phone and an iPad password, stepping out for phone calls and whispering, even putting a fucking jar of rocks on her phone while she slept so she would be woken up if anyone touched it. I'm assuming, I don't know.

Fucking weird. My dad managed to look in her phone before she changed her password and quickly skimmed through her text with James and saw some suspicious cryptic dialogue. My mom finally gets back to us at the concert, and at this point I'm pissed and devastated all at once. I ask her, what took so long? She didn't even have the beer she left to get.

And she says, oh, I ran into some old friends from my old job at, Blank. Immediately sensing bullshit, what are the chances her 50-plus-year-old friends also went to see Incubis, so I ask who? She didn't expect this follow-up question, but Slyly responds with,

you don't know them. I then ask, well, what are their names? She's feeling the pressure and stutters before managing to make up some bullshit names. My wife and sister are listening to my interrogation very intently while Brandon Boyd is killing it in the background singing, pardon me. I get sick of her BS and drop it. I am livid and crushed in thinking of my dad. My sister had already gotten to the point of disgust I was at, so she didn't say anything and we all kind of ignored it until the next day. After this concert incident, my sister tells my dad what happened, and he finally approaches my mom about everything. He demanded to see her call history and sees a 45-minute call to James at the time of the concert, along with many others. He demands to know what the fuck is going on, and she says he is just going through a hard time with his ex,

who was apparently debilitated from alcoholism, and she was just helping him get through it as a friend. Anyways, to keep any readers interested, I'm going to skip past the shit that could be. make this the longest read ever. Basically, the sketchiness goes on for months, and at the time of my wedding, my dad has a tracker in their goddamn car, has requested call logs from the phone company, and is looking at hiring a private investigator. I still remember dancing with her at my wedding. She looked at me adoringly, and I couldn't look back at her. Little did my dad to know. Me and my love for my kayaking would soon give him everything he needed. A month or so after my wedding, I go to stay with my old college roommate for a weekend of kayaking and fishing. He lived by my

grandparents' lake house, my mom's parents, and I was going to pick up my kayak from their house that day. My dad randomly calls me just to say hi and probably tells me about whatever sketchy BS my mom has been up to, though probably not healthy. He is my best friend, and this has been our convos lately. I tell him that I'm headed to the lakehouse and you respond with. I doubt she would be this bold, but your mom said she was at the lake house with her girlfriends this weekend, and I want you to be prepared if that isn't the case. If it isn't, let me know. I know. I know. I know. I know. knew what he meant. I didn't give my mom a heads up that I was coming on purpose and as I drive by, I'm relieved to see just her car and another girly looking car in the driveway. I call my dad

before going in and telling my initial assessment is that nothing sketchy is going on from what I can see. Just looks like her and her friends are here. He's as relieved as I am. I walk up, knock on the door and it's silent. The back patio doors unlock so I walk in. The first thing I see is a leather motorcycle jacket hanging on one of the bar stools and immediately recognize it as James. My heart starts pounding and my adrenaline is pumping as my vision gets all weird and my ears start burning. A million questions went through my head in a second. Like, are they here? Do they know I'm here? Should I announce myself? God damn it, mommy, you fucking cheating asshole. I act fast, assuming they aren't there, but could be pulling up any minute. I take a picture of the jacket. I go to the garage and sure enough,

James's motorcycle is there. I take a picture of that and then run back in and see cell phones stacked where they are charging in the kitchen. I grab a phone and don't recognize. It didn't have a lock on it, so I immediately go to the pictures. First one is of two people I don't recognize, as well as my mom and James, and they're kissing each other on the lips. I scroll a little bit more and more of the same shit.

My heart is pumping out of my chest at this point, and I take a few quick pictures of my phones in the phone and run out of the house, not even remembering or carrying what I originally been there for. Something I should add here. When I was seven, my mom left my dad for a doctor who just wanted to use her and drop her like a bad habit. And my dad reluctantly took her back after she begged and pleaded. She blamed the doctor at the time, saying he drugged slash R-worded her some bullshit. My dad later told me that at the time, he told himself he was doing it for the kids and had planned on leaving her after we graduated high school. But they did so well in between then and our graduations that he eventually forgave her and was happy in their relationship.

I remember them being separated, but I didn't know the details until recently. Okay, so anyways, I peel out of the driveway at the lake house and drive to secluded street in the neighborhood as I try to figure out what the fuck to do. I let my heart rate slow a bit so I could think more clearly and then called my little sister, trying to decide if I tell my dad and if so how. Up to this point, everyone just had their suspicions with no solid proof. My little sister, who is the sweetheart of the family, agrees that he needed to call dad and tell him immediately because he deserves to know, despite how bad it will hurt him. I then called my wife and she agreed, but we were both worried what he would do.

I hesitate for a bit, but eventually I called my dad to tell him his wife of 25 years is cheating on him. When he answers, I just blurt it out. James is here. I have proof and mom is cheating on you. I didn't know how to put it delicately, so I just gave him the facts. He was in shock like me. He kept saying the same phrase over and over. No fucking way, God damn it. Insert my mom's name.

God damn it. Wow, such a bitch. God damn it. After the initial shock wears off, he apologizes that I had to be the one to see it and then says he's on his way. It's a three-hour drive and that he'll meet up with me at my roommates. I immediately call my uncle, my dad's identical twin, and my other best friend. And tell him what's going on. I tell him I'm afraid my dad is going to do something stupid.

He said he'll make sure he doesn't. They end up coming down together and meet me at my roommate's house. We talk for a couple hours and come up with the plan. They switch trucks with my roommate to go incognito because he must see it for himself. My dad promises he won't do anything stupid despite what he may see. He sneaks up there after dark, parks far away and walks a mile through the woods with his brother and a pair of binoculars. He hides behind some trees when he got in a place and sees them on the patio with another

couple drinking wine. They're cuddling and kissing like they're an old married couple and like. what they were doing is not beyond fucked up. It took every ounce of self-control for my dad not to run over there and go insane on them. Instead, he did the smart thing, thankfully, and just took pictures of them and left. The next morning he cleared out their bank account, sent her the pictures he and I took along with the text that said, I know everything, I'm leaving you. I can only imagine what their reaction was like. I rest assured that the rest of their little getaway was quite stressful. The next year was a nightmare for everyone, and my mom's reaction to the solidified my

disdain for her. She dragged everyone into her bullshit and made our lives a living hell. My dad and I caught her red-handed. He just wanted her to go to James and let him live in peace. But instead, she dropped James and begged my dad to take her back. My dad agreed to pay her alimony if she granted him a divorce without lawyers that would have drained them both financially. She reluctantly agreed. After the divorce, my mom cried every day for a year. She moved in with my little sister in an apartment she couldn't afford. She got on antidepressants and went into a downward spiral that, because we loved her no matter what, took us all with her.

All the lies she had told for a year began to surface more and more. Thinking back on that motorcycle trip where I spent a weekend with this prick made my stomach turn. I even bought the rich asshole of whiskey and coke. Though I despised who she was and what she had done, I was still very concerned from my mom and will listen to her sob on the phone and in front of me. She cried to my wife a lot, which I hated. This was my wife's first year in the family, and my mom was calling her bawling about how cruel my dad was being to her. My mom blamed my dad's twin brother for almost everything, saying he had stolen him away from her on all our guy hunting trips,

and he was the reason their marriage fell apart. She was truly manic. My mom's parents and brother were disgusted with her because they loved my dad so much, and they refused to talk to her about it. So my wife, sisters, dad and I were the ones who got the brunt of it. She tried manipulating everyone to make us think she was the victim here. It made me sick. She tried to make it seem like she was the battered wife and my dad had treated her badly. We all knew the truth and I found myself despising her more and more as a person. My dad, on the other hand, went full-blown frat boy with his newly found freedom.

He's a handsome guy with money, and though my mom's reaction was taking a toll on him in every way, he distracted himself by getting on Bumble and banging a bunch of 30 to 40-something-year-old women, hunted every weekend, and went on Harley rides during the week to escape it all. My mom still doesn't know about the women and honestly, after being with the same woman for 30 years, being cheated on twice and having every aspect of his life being controlled, he deserved it. He needed to get it out of the system. Anyways, getting us more towards the present.

My wife and I became pregnant with her first child, and the joy of it was completely overshadowed by my mom. mom's constant meltdowns. I couldn't even get them in the same room to tell all my family that they were going to have a new niece-slash-granddaughter. For 10 months, she relentlessly berated my dad for not being able to forgive her and used my unborn child, their first grandchild, as a pawn to get him back. She told him that it would be his fault if their grandchild grew up with divorced grandparents. It made my blood boil. After a while, and against me and my sister's encouragement for my dad to stay strong, my dad caved and slowly started to get back with her. They sold

house and now live together in a townhome. My daughter is 17 months old now and my parents have fallen back into the relationship of my mom dominating his life. Despite him trying to set strong ground rules this time, it's been like when a villain gets their power back after losing them. She went from weak and broken to manipulating everyone to her will like she has always done. My wife is shy, caring, and always worried to offend my family in any way. And my mom uses this to try and emboss her around when it comes to our daughter until I step in. She'll constantly play the guilt card about how my wife's parents see our daughter more when they live four hours away. Uh, yeah, you fucking psycho, they're good people. When I talk to my mom now, there's never love in my voice.

I don't want to hate her, but her flaws are so apparent. She's a sociopath who has to be in control everyone. We all love her despite this, but I am the only one who calls her out on her bullshit. it. My older sister barely speaks to her. My daughter is obsessed with her, and it makes me happy and furious at the same time. She doesn't deserve my dad, and she doesn't deserve our forgiveness, especially since this is twice now that we know about, that she cheated on my dad. Not sure how to end this, just wish my mom wasn't such a shitbag. I guess I'm thankful these events and my realization didn't happen sooner. Otherwise, I wouldn't know that there were good women out there, and instead I'd probably have a hard time trusting them.

If you guys made it this far, thanks for reading. Edit, just want to thank you guys. I read through most of the comments and messages that range from this is fake to your mom is an asshole, to something sincere and relatable. I tried to write it in a way that wouldn't bore people to death. I know everyone says this, but I wrote this expecting no more than a handful of people to read it at most.

Sorry, it was so long. I did not expect it to be on the front page. Thanks for letting me vent and for responding with your own stories and thoughts on it. Felt good to get it off my chest. Y'all are awesome. We're rich, but nobody knows it. Sold our business this year, mid-50s, net worth now over $10 million USD.

Our kids have no idea. Teenagers, our siblings have no idea. Our parents are deceased. Nobody else knows except our banker. We live a low-income life, still shopping at Walmart and Target. At some point, we may buy a big, look-at-me-home on a lake of river, like two to three million, because why not? But for now we're happy just being retired, not flaunting our wealth, and living a quiet life,

driving an old Honda and Toyota. We are minimalist, by the way, and love decluttering our home of material goods, good to just type this out for many internet strangers to see. Can't and won't tell anyone else. Cheers. I tricked mentally ill and poor people into doing degrading stuff on camera. Exactly as the title says, a couple of years ago, I was heavily into booger sugar. So my friends and I would stay up all night just talking to each other in my apartment for many nights in a row.

Most people who have done a lot of drugs know that playing video games and watching movies is really not that fun to do while doing lines all night. So we started doing a lot of weird things. things like this instead. One night for some reason we started messing with this mentally ill guy, who we went to school with on Facebook, who thinks he died when he crashed his car on drugs a couple of years back and got a major psychosis from the incident. The guy now fully believes he is dead and makes these weird Facebook rants, telling people he is seeing and talking to angels and demons and that he is dead. One night we call up the guy posing as a local newspaper that wants to write an article about him.

He and my friend had the strangest conversation ever. He kept the conversation going for almost two hours, while I recorded for the whole thing as an MP3 on my phone. The next day, I presented the clip to all of my friends who were totally ecstatic, and we all think it's the funniest thing we've ever heard. We start messing with this guy almost every night after work, writing him as God,

making him record weird songs from heaven and hell, making him take weird photos of himself, etc. But after a week of shenanigans, his caretaker or whoever makes him delete his Facebook account because the rants online are getting out of control. After realizing that messing with this guy was funny as shit, but that we could no longer do it,

we started looking for new victims. First, we start trolling our local high school's Facebook group posing as this pair of effed-up parents but are eventually found out and kicked out. Then we start trolling the local vegans selling horse meat and other stuff, but eventually they make the group private and only members they know personally can join. After that, we start trolling all sorts of local groups on Facebook. To join these local groups, you have to have an account that looks somewhat believable.

So we would go on these religious boards and make posts praising God. That shit gets a lot of activity. And just start adding people until we had a ton of friends and the account would look somewhat real. The people most active on these religious boards are people from places in Africa that are very poor, and these people are willing to do anything for a couple of bucks. So we will start calling up random strangers

that look like they are willing to do anything for money, sending them a bit of cash via Western Union to make them try and do backflips while I record it. That crazy part is that once you send that first dollar, they know that there's more where it's coming from. And you now have your own personal gesture overseas. And they will do literally anything as long as you send them that first bit of cash. So then it became almost like a new addiction for me.

I was promising these poor people a big cash prize. Of course, there was no prize. If they did what I told them to do on the webcam, so I could record it. The most effed up part is that I enjoyed doing it. and found it hilarious. I used to only do with friends so we all could laugh at it together. But later, I often just sat alone

calling slash riding these poor people and making them do weird and degrading stuff on webcam. Jeez, man. And now let's get into some top comments. Someone says, this is definitely a confession. Yikes.

And yeah, this is horrible. I missed the birth of my dog because I was high on age. I stayed away from drugs all throughout my youth, but after college, I started experimenting and I ended up getting addicted to the Big H. It completely destroyed my life. I lost my job, my girlfriend, my apartment.

Pretty much all of my friends, and I spent two months living on the street. When I was 25, I joined a support group and I managed to get clean and get my life back together. At almost the exact, moment I had been cleaned for one year. I met my wife. I've been with many women when we met, but from our first date, I knew that I wanted to marry her, and I took the timing as a sign. I proposed to her on our one-year anniversary, and she said yes. We got married three months later,

and four months after that, she fell pregnant. I was excited at first, but after a little while, I began to worry about the responsibility. Once you have a child, you're stuck with the responsibility for life. You can't just quit like you can't a job. You can't just move once you get tired of being in the same spot because you'll completely uproot his or her life and everything he or she knows. What if I fall in love with my child and then she divorces me and gets full custody? If she has my child and then leaves, she can claim child support and I have virtually no say. She can essentially make me into an indentured servant. If I'm making $80,000 a year and she leaves me, a judge can force me to pay that rate of child support even if I can't find another job that'll pay me that much.

And if I don't, then I'll be put in jail. I love her with all my heart, but if she gets bored of me and decides to leave, she can use all of these things against me. Do I really want to risk it? I was pretty scared of the whole thing, but it was happening now and there was no way. way out. All of the pressure made me just start thinking about doing H again. Maybe if I could just do it one more time, I'd get it out of my system, and then I could move forward. It kept bouncing around on my head, and when my wife was almost five months pregnant, I did H for the first time in almost three years. Two weeks shy of being three years clean. This is the last time I said. Then later that week, I did it again, and I told myself, all right, this really is the last time. Just like that,

I was hooked again. She noticed that I was acting weird, but she knew that I was really nervous about having a child, so she gave me space. When she was about 30 weeks pregnant, she went into labor. She had been having contractions most of the night, but her doctor said not to worry. The morning she went into labor, I told her that I was going fishing with my friends, but the truth is that I spent the whole day lying on a mattress in a storage shed high on age. When I woke up, I had 39 missed calls, and I'm not sure how many messages.

When I realized what was going on, I cleaned myself up and got down to the hospital as quickly as I could, but I'd missed everything. Her mom and sister were there. My wife was just as happy to see me, but her mom gave me a big lecture about how irresponsible I was. I apologized profusely and lied about my phone being out of range. Our daughter is 14 weeks old now. It's been really difficult, but I haven't done drugs since that day. I don't remember it being this difficult last time. My wife knows that I used to be addicted to age, but she doesn't know that I started using again.

I want to tell her that I slipped up, but I don't want her to doubt my ability to take care of her family, and I don't want her to think that I'll be a bad father. And oh my God, it's just that is such a... heartbreaking post. So hard. I can't imagine being the OP waking up and seeing you missed your daughter's birth. And the reason you missed it was because you were strung out. God, that is just so, so horrifying. Now let's get into some comments. Someone says, I know it's hard right now, but you really need to find a professional to talk to. We can't go through stuff like this alone. Having a kid is challenging and it's an identity shift for everyone.

My wife relapsed a month after we brought our son home after 10 years of sobriety. It wasn't age, but she was sneaking hard liquor. I suspected and she lied to me about it. Not good. The best thing she did for herself and me was, to be honest with me, and get help. She's much more stable now, and the relapse was a blip on the radar,

but she had some serious stuff to process through. Therapy was vital for her healing. Also, your wife has, has a right to know what's going on with you. Wait until you're getting help. But don't drag your feet. H is no joke, as you know. And it's not safe for you or your baby,

for your wife to not know about your struggles. Please don't try to tough it out or man up or whatever. You'll feel better with support. And yeah, this is just insane. And it goes for all of you and goes without saying, if you are struggling with addiction, please get help and do not try to do it by your self. yourself.