Snook - 5+ Hours of Disturbing Viewer Confessions

Episode Date: September 20, 2026

This is 5+ Hours of Disturbing Viewer Confessions! This is a compilation of some of the most unhinged, sad, and shocking viewer confessions I have ever received... 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

Cheating Addiction Hey Snook, thank you for all you do. I feel like you are a very genuine person. I have a confession to make to you and all the lovely people of YouTube. I feel like it's something people avoid talking about in a realistic fashion. Thank you so much for the kind words

and on to your confession. I can't seem to stop cheating on my husband and I am too ashamed and terrified to talk to my therapist about it. We've been together for about six or seven years total. In the first year or so, he wasn't very faithful. He kept going to hang out with his ex, even though he swore nothing was going on, and he kept liking inappropriate photos of other girls that looked nothing like me on Instagram.

No matter how many times I talked to him about it, it wouldn't stop. Eventually, against my best judgment, I moved in with him. Six months into me living with him, I found out he had been cheating on me with someone from his hometown. They had just been swapping inappropriate pictures and talking, but it was enough to break my heart. He convinced him. me to stay with him, and a couple years later, again, against my better judgment, we got married. We got marriage counseling, but he would always promise to the therapist he would do the work, and he didn't try it all. I don't know how to put this delicately, but he never wanted to be intimate with me, and I couldn't understand. I have confidence issues for sure, but I would say

I'm pretty attractive. He did ask me to marry him after all. I felt and still feel unwanted. There's other issues with our relationship, but anyways, that's enough backstory. I started making dating accounts and going on dates. This has been going on for at least a few years now. There's even been a couple times where I've had boyfriends. At first, I felt very guilty. After a while, I felt so numb to it. I never meant in a malicious way towards him, not in a revenge way,

just in a desperate, disgusting way. I was looking for the affection I was missing in my current relationship. It almost feels like I'm trying to prove to my... myself that I am enough, that someone wants me. There's definitely more backstory to this as far as childhood trauma. I definitely am not saying this is justified or okay. I guess I just wanted to share this to give the people being cheated on a perspective on a cheater's side, that it's not your fault, it's not personal. You don't deserve it, but you unfortunately had to be the collateral for your partner's lack of self-esteem, emotional damage, and mental illness. I know this needs to be addressed.

I will tell myself to knock it off and I will block everyone who I am talking to and delete all dating accounts and try to focus on our marriage, but eventually I relapse and fall right into it once I feel depressed about our marriage again. I suppose advice is welcome and I deserve to be chastised, but thank you to everyone that listened to my confession. Well wishes, anonymous. And thank you so much for sharing that. I appreciate you being open and just sharing this with the channel. and I'm young and never been married, but I'll try to give some, you know, advice from the outside looking in. And I don't know.

Going through or just reading through a story, a lot of kind of thoughts came in through my head. And you kind of, you know, listed a laundry list of things that didn't work out with your husband. And in my head, you know, I would hate to recommend this, but it just doesn't seem like this relationship is working out in the slightest. It looks like you've been married to him for seven years or been with him for seven years. That's a long time.

But this relationship seems very tumultuous. Like, I don't know how much, you know, counseling or, you know, couples therapy could even help this. And I hate to say that. I like to have a optimistic view on a lot of these confessions. But, you know, he's cheated on you before you're even married. and, you know, still a bit unfaithful even while you're married, and now you've kind of, you know, or you've been unfaithful to your husband. And I think, you know, before, you know, divorce or, you know, ending it,

I think you need to see a therapist or someone in some sort of, you know, some sort of specialty that could help you out. You kind of said it at the end saying, I relapse and fall right into it once I feel. depressed about our marriage again. So it's an addiction of some sort. You know, there's an addiction for everything and cheating addiction does exist. So maybe some sort of therapy for that or talking to someone who's been in a similar situation as you. That could be, you know, a possible fix. Or maybe just, you know, be completely open with your husband. I mean, it seems like you guys are living completely different lives. You said you've gone on dates and had private

boyfriends with other people, you're living an entire life, you know, hidden from him. So I think if you be open, honest, and say, hey, we are in a bad spot. I need to be open and honest with you if you're open and honest with me. Maybe that's it. I kind of had a, you know, that was kind of a rambling of what I think. But, you know, I think you are both in, both dug yourself a hole. And it's not the same hole either. And you kind of need to get yourself out of that hole and hopefully maybe, you know,

rekindle this relationship. It sucks to hear and I'm sorry that, you know, you're going through that. And hopefully you can get this figured out. I hope my advice is somewhat on the right track. If it is, you know, I hope it helps. And for everyone else watching right now, please leave a comment and hopefully help her through this if you've ever been through something similar. I'm sure she'll really appreciate it.

And thank you so much for sharing. On to the next one. I just shot my dog. My wife found a stray last week that loved our young daughter more than anything. This dog had followed her around from outside the daycare fence, playing with her through the fence for three days before my wife decided to see if she could catch him. After much coaxing, he got her into the car and she brought him home. He was a little black and white rat terrier looking mutt. And in true kiddo fashion, our daughter decided to that a black and white dog's name is going to be Marshall because Paw Patrol.

Well, Marshall and kiddo are fast friends, chasing each other around, playing nonstop. It was beautiful. Marshall wasn't without fault, though. He was so attached to her that several times he tried to defend our daughter from the other dogs we have. So he didn't quite trust them yet. We even consider getting rid of him after the first day when he jumped our one hundred. hundred and twenty-two-pound shepherd mix for trying to get pets from our daughter. That was truly scary, as she was right in the mix and I yanked her up into the air from between

them as they briefly fought it out. Luckily, she was not hurt, but it really had us worried. We decided to stick it out and give Marshall a chance because of how strong he'd bonded with daughter and just how pure their love was. We brought him home a week ago, and he'd made great strides, not fighting with the other dogs besides the occasional growl, and he'd started herding our goats around, really living his best life and we felt like we could keep working with him and get him to be a part of the family. Tonight, I let him out for a bathroom break

as I looked for an additional in-ground fence collar that the shepherd mix has to keep on him from going out under the gate, but still lets him roam around the whole property without wandering into the neighbor's land and getting into their cows. He was seriously injured doing that, when young and I know in-ground collars aren't well received, but it was better than him almost dying again, and it works great. I'd found the extra collar, got a new battery into it, and was headed outside to test it before putting it on Marshall to make sure he would stick to our property,

and I saw him, lying in the tree line at the edge of the front yard by the gate. Not moving. I went over to him and saw he had a swollen belly. a severely injured leg that was broken in several places, was not getting up and I could tell he'd been hit by a car. I'm a first responder, and I knew that the way his leg was bent up and the swelling at his hips meant his pelvis was broken,

and the swollen belly was from internal bleeding. And there was zero chance he would survive. I carried him inside, and as I did, I knew he was on borrowed time as I could feel how his broken hips really were even though I was carrying him as gently as I could. He didn't even whine.

He was so far gone already. I brought him to his bed. Layed him down as comfortably as I could and told the family. We got our daughter and told her that Marshall had a really bad boo-boo that we couldn't fix. She understands what death is a bit more than most three years old

because of farm life, but it's still very limited. And we told her he was not going to make it. She asked if he was going to die, and we told her that Marshall was going to die. We're religious, so we told her that I had to take him out into the woods so he could be with Jesus, and Jesus would take him away so he wouldn't hurt anymore. She asked a bunch of questions that we answered as best as we could.

She hugged and kissed Marshall. She said goodbye to him. him and then told me she'd be okay. Many tears were shed. So I bundled Marshall up in a towel and brought him to a quiet area in the woods. I laid him down, thanked him for loving my daughter so much, and bringing her so much joy this past week. And I apologized to him. I told him I was sorry that he got hurt, that I was sorry that our attempts to make his life better ended the way it had.

and I apologize for how much the walk out here must have hurt. His pupils were huge from the shock. His gums were gray and his whole face had gone cold, and his breaths were shallow. As I stepped back, thanked him again, apologize, told him I loved him, and shot him. The pain was gone, and I know I did the right thing for him,

especially since the closest emergency vet is an hour or so away, so he would die painfully long before he could be properly euthanized. But it still doesn't feel good. Daughter told us that she would dream about Marshall tonight so he could feel better in her dreams after story time before bed, and that broke us both again. So she consoled us and told us it would be okay because Jesus would always take good care of Marshall now

and that he doesn't live at our house anymore. So we just cuddled up, quietly crying with her, until she went to sleep. This is a huge wall of text, but I got to get it out there because it sucks and I need it off my chest. It was less than one week.

Tuesday to Sunday, but dang. He was a part of the family already and was easily our daughter's best friend for that week. We gave Marshall a house, we cleaned his dirty fur, gave him a bed, food, water, and a best friend for one week of his lonely life living on the streets. And I keep telling myself that, even though it ended abruptly, that one week was worth it for him. And it should be worth it for me too.

I think my dad tried to set up my mom and aunt. First off, I just want to say, I love your videos more than anything. My wife and I listened to every story, even the ones on Snook. plus. I don't usually write in long paragraphs, so sorry if this is a little rough. This is something I've been holding on to for a while, and I hope it makes it into a video. If not, I still hope you enjoy reading it. And thank you for those kind words. I really appreciate you watching all the videos. That means so much, and let's get into your confession. This story took place over 20 years ago, before I was born. My dad invited my mom and her sister, my aunt, to go out clubbing with him one night.

He told them to either wait outside or grab a table at this club and that he'd meet up with them very soon. It wasn't weird at the time. My parents didn't have a great relationship, but they used to go out together pretty often. So my mom and aunt did what he asked. When they got to the nightclub, it was closed. Still, they figured maybe they were early and decided to wait outside. They both tried calling my dad, but he wouldn't pick up. He was the kind of guy who would get angry easily, so instead of leaving,

they stayed and waited. About 30 minutes passed. The club was still empty, except for one guy standing nearby. He didn't seem suspicious. Just looked like he was waiting for someone too. My aunt started getting fed up, and just as they were about to leave,

a car slowly drove by across the street. At first, my mom thought it might be my dad, but then someone inside the car, pulled out a gun, and opened fire. My mom was hit in the arm. My aunt was shot in the head. and the stranger who'd been nearby was hit too, right in the chest. My mom was in shock, frozen in place.

She watched as the stranger dropped to the ground and started throwing up blood. Within seconds, he was gone. Even while bleeding, my mom managed to call the police and even get an ambulance there in less than five minutes. The man died on scene. The doctors said that the bullet had bounced around inside him, causing massive internal damage. It was brutal. My mom's injury wasn't life-threatening, thankfully. It went clean through her arm.

But my aunt, she was in critical condition. The doctors told the family she was likely brain dead and wouldn't survive the night. They were wrong. Against all odds, my aunt pulled through. She had a long recovery, and it took a year and a half before she was fully herself again. The only lasting sign of what happened is a scar on her forehead. Now, here's the part that really makes me feel sick. My dad completely ghosted everyone after it happened.

He didn't call, didn't check in, not for weeks. And to this day, he denies ever telling them to go to that nightclub. But my mom is sure that's what he said. And honestly, I believe her. She has no reason to lie, and he was always a toxic, dangerous person to her. The fact that he vanished right after the shooting makes me think he might have set them up. No one was ever arrested. The shooters were never found.

There was no justice. Years later, my dad ended up getting sentenced to 13 years in prison for other crimes. And then he picked up another 10 years on top of that. He's still behind bars today. That's the end of my story. I'd really love to know your opinion on what you think happened that night. do you think you planned it or do you think it was just a horrible coincidence? Thanks so much for reading and keep making the amazing content.

You're the best. Thank you so much for those kind words again. I really appreciate that. And, you know, I'll try my best to give a decent opinion on it. I mean, this was a relatively short story. I obviously don't have all the facts. but I think that is a very, very, very, very weird coincidence. Horrible coincidence, obviously.

I don't know, I couldn't say for sure, you know, my opinion, but I think I would lean to he planned it. But I don't know if you or your fathers or your mothers or your aunt had any sort of underline, you know, big issues. Did he have any sort of motive? I mean, that's kind of like the first thing you look for when there's some sort of murder that almost happened, you know? I'm not a genius in any sense. But yeah, what motive did he just not like his wife? I mean, you said they didn't like each other, but to murder, then aunt and the random person, I think the random person could also be, could add to it, where that makes him,

unlikely to be your father, but all three of them being hit and none of them being robbed or none of them just, it's a weird situation in a very, very interesting first confession we have. And I really can't say for sure, but that's a horrible situation. And you didn't say what your dad got, you know, a sentence for. And you said about 23 years in total, which is a very, very, very long time in prison. If it's anything related to a violent crime, I wouldn't put it past him at that point because, you know, people can't drop tendencies like that very easily. I know I'm kind of yapping. This might just be kind of rambling at this point, but very, very interesting. Thank you for asking my opinion. But my final verdict, I think he might have done it or planned it. That's just very

horrible situation. I'm very, very, you know, glad your aunt made it out fine and your mom did as well. That's good news. I feel horrible for that one guy, though. And yeah, I'm really curious to think what you think happened. Like, do you think your father did it? Do you think he planned it or do you think he was a coincidence? Email me back or comment down below. I'll probably pin your comment just so other people can see it. But yeah, very, very interesting first. confession. Thank you so much for the kind of words again. And, uh, yeah, on to the next one. Anonymous Confession. I think my stepmom killed my dad. Hi, Snook, I love your videos, especially the ones of your viewers' anonymous confessions. I watch them every day while I get ready for work.

I wanted to share my own story. Feel free to change any of the wording if it would go against these Zup guidelines. I've never told anyone this fully, but I genuinely believed my stepmom killed my dad. On paper, it says he committed S word. That's the official story. But nothing about it has ever felt right. Right after he died, she sold his car before his body even made it to the funeral home, like she wasted no time getting rid of his things. It was like she wanted him erased.

She didn't even want to have a funeral or a showing for him. I had to beg her to do it. If I hadn't pushed, she probably wouldn't have done anything at all. But here's where it gets weird. Her best friend was the funeral director. the same person who handled my dad's body and prepared him for the showing. I don't know why, but that's always stuck with me. When it came to his gravestone, she refused to help.

She wouldn't even go look at them. My grandma, my dad's mom, ended up paying for the entire thing herself. His own wife didn't give a single dollar, but she still brags about being anxiety-free now that he's gone. She also loves to tell people she's completely broke now, but somehow she still takes cross-country vacations every other month. month. She had no money for her husband's headstone, but always has money for trips. She's gotten rid of everything, his car, his belongings, even the photos of him. There's no trace of him left in

that house. It's like she wanted to wipe him off the planet. Looking back, there were little things my dad said before he died that didn't make sense of the time. I wonder if he was afraid of her. I wonder if he knew something I didn't. I can't prove anything. I know how this sounds, but deep down, know what happened. And I know she's the reason he's gone. There is definitely more to the story, but it is already getting long and I think I'm getting my point across. Do you think I'm crazy? Or should I trust my gut? And thank you so much for sharing. I really appreciate it. And off the bat, I don't think you're crazy. But something that comes to mind immediately is did they have any sort of preexisting problems or, you know, fighting? Not saying that she killed him, but did, you know,

he kind of fight a lot with her and then she's like wow that's a lot of anxiety off my chest or you know that's like a lot of whatever off my brain now that he's gone and maybe they just didn't love each other the same i don't know that wasn't outlined in the story but you know that's a big deal for her to kill him but i don't know i don't think you're crazy it's definitely suspicious especially with it being an s word and sorry that i needed to say that and that's youtube you know censoring so this video even gets shown to people. I apologize for having to do that. But I don't think you're crazy, but you know, I don't know if it's the right move, but talk to her, maybe. I think it's weird that she didn't want to have a funeral or, you know, even look at a headstone. I mean, I feel like

you would want to, especially to a loved one. But like I said, were they fighting at all? Did they hate each other at all? Like, did she just not care that he died? Or was she the reason he died? I don't know. interesting, and if you have any updates, please send it to me, and I'm sorry for your loss. Confession. I accidentally killed my cat. He died suffering. Hey, Snook, I've been watching your confession videos lately. They've sort of become a guilty pleasure. Sometimes I feel better about myself after watching them. I guess they help me cope. I'd appreciate any input from you if you have anything to say about what I have to share. What I have to confess eats at my soul, and I've gone into some pretty bad depressive episodes about it.

It happened three years ago. I live in Maine, and as you could probably imagine, it gets very cold here during the winters. My cat Randy was eight years old at the time. My family adopted him when I was 10. I grew up with Randy, and I loved him dearly. I still lived with my family and did then as well. At this point in my life, I was very lonely,

and I would just get in my car and drive around for a while. Sometimes I would drive for two hours. I began doing this in late 2020, and early 2021. And yes, even in the winter I would drive, especially in the winter actually. I no longer do this as since the incident I've been afraid of going on long rides.

It was on November 11, 2022. The day started like every other day. My parents and elder brother were all employed and at work. Meanwhile, I was unemployed, recently laid off. Having graduated from high school not long before all of this, even though I had the house all to myself

and it was all snowy outside, I got dressed and approached my car so I could go on a nice, long ride. I could have sworn something was wrong, but I ignored my gut feeling. I tried starting in my car, but it didn't start, so I tried again, and I heard this loud scream, which fizzled out terrifyingly. Immediately, I got out and popped the engine, and I saw Randy dead. His body was burned, his gray fur was like spiked and crazy. I can't describe it well. His green eyes were bulging out of his skull, and I panicked. I sobbed and sobbed until I couldn't hear my own sobbing anymore. Not just because my cat was dead, but because I was responsible for his death and I didn't know how. I still cannot understand for the life of me how Randy even got into my car's engine. Our house wasn't and still isn't

properly heated, so I have to imagine that he somehow managed to get into the engine to be warm and comfortable. The thing I did next is what makes this whole thing even worse. I felt so guilty and ashamed that I grabbed a shovel from our garage, dug a hole in the ground in our yard, put on gloves, carefully took Randy out of the engine, and buried him well, crying the whole time,

even though I couldn't make a sound. I tore out some grass underneath the snow and used both the grass and snow along with dirt to cover up his body. Even today, you couldn't tell he's buried there. At least my family can't. I still know where he's buried, of course. Afterwards, I wiped off the shovel,

put it, and the gloves back where I found them, crawled back into my pajamas and into bed where I cried until I eventually passed out. My parents came home before my brother, as he wouldn't have come, and woke me up, and asking how I was and where Randy was. Then I did something awful. I feigned ignorance and told them I didn't know. They looked concerned, especially my father who loved Randy even more than I did, as though he were a third son. They looked around for him, but my mother gave up and said Randy would show up later in the night or the next day. My father was skeptical and said that Randy probably wouldn't have been safe out in the cold. He questioned why Randy would even go outside in the first place because he was never what you'd call an outdoors cat.

But tomorrow became a week, a week became a month, and so forth. Nobody has recovered from Randy's loss. We have not replaced him, and I don't have the heart to tell them about what really happened. And I have some input, I think, but, you know, I don't think you should not blame yourself for the death of, your cat, Randy. That was a complete freak accident, obviously. You know, you would have never knew he was in your car engine. Like, you would have just never known that. That's not your fault. But where you do take some fault is lying to your family. And like you said, it's been a long, long time since it happened, but no one else in your family has closure. You know, you could have

buried him and then still been like, hey, guys, I fucked up. Or something along those lines. I mean, I totally understand why it was very hard to do that and why he didn't do that. But I think you need to maybe come clean eventually. You know, maybe go to your parents, go to your brother and be like, hey, this is what happened to Randy. And kind of outlined the entire situation. Tell them why you didn't tell them. Say you were scared.

Say you were sad. Say whatever you were feeling in the moment because, you know, I understand that. But I think your family deserves some closure. And don't blame yourself for the death of the cat. That was a freak accident. but I really think you should bring yourself or bring your family some closure. And hopefully that's some good feedback. But I'd really like you to do that because, you know, if my cat died and I didn't know what happened to it, I would feel so horrible.

But just knowing how or what happened to him would bring so much more closure and honestly just happiness, I guess, to be like, oh, he didn't. I don't know. But yeah, I think you should tell your parents or your brother. or just your family in general. You can email me back and let me know if you did or if you didn't. You don't need to listen to me, but that's just kind of my opinion. And thank you so much for sharing. On to the next one.

Snook, please keep me anonymous. Forgive me for the long confession. I don't ask for forgiveness. I'm not justifying my actions. I don't wish for sympathy. I understand if you do not believe my confession and I don't blame you. I wouldn't believe it either if it didn't happen to me. I'm 32 years old.

English isn't my first language, but I've lived with it long enough that it doesn't get in the way anymore. I'm writing this for memory, and memory is messy. Some things are clear. Some things come out in pieces. I'm not asking to be understood. I just need this out of my head. This happened in 2010, in a small town outside the city of Durango. Not rural enough to disappear completely, not big enough to mess.

matter, the kind of place where everyone knows who you are, but nobody knows what you're really doing. My mother raised me and my little sister alone. She was four years old at the time. I was barely a teenager, old enough to understand money, and young enough to believe hard work fixed everything. My father wasn't around and I don't know when he left or why. My mother didn't talk about him. She worked as a maid for families who lived better than we did, cleaning houses that were quiet. organized and nothing like ours. She would take me with her sometimes, leaving my sister with her neighbor. Eventually, it became my first job. I helped carry things. Clean patios, washed cars, did whatever I was told. I didn't complain. I didn't ask questions. I learned early that

silence kept you fed. One of the clients noticed that. He liked that I didn't talk. He said it more than once. He'd laugh and say I had the right mentality, that I understood how the world worked. I didn't know then what he really did for a living. I knew enough to know I shouldn't ask. After a while, he offered me another kind of work. He didn't call it anything dangerous. He just said he needed someone to watch, to stand around, observe and tell him if anyone unfamiliar came into the area. Rival groups. He didn't use words like cartel at first. He offered to pay me more than my mother earned in a week, and I said yes. That was my first step into it. I didn't feel like I chose it. It felt like something that was already happening, and I just didn't step out of the way.

I became what they call a halcon. I stood on corners, near stores, beside main streets, I watched cars, faces, movements. I memorized things without writing them down. I would report back to him every night. Months passed and nothing ever changed, but I still got paid. My mom knew, but not enough to point out. My sister still laughed and my mom still came back tired and smelling like cleaning chemicals. Then the same man offered me more work, deliveries, drop a bag off and bring back a stack of cash. No talking, no delays. I wasn't stupid. I knew what was in the bag. But I have come to learn that knowing and asking are different things. Asking gets you killed. Doing gets you paid.

The money helped. We ate better. My sister had shoes that fit. My mother stopped crying tonight, at least to where I could hear it. The man started showing up more. Not just at the house, but on the street near where I waited. I shrugged it off as a coincidence. I realized now that I had already been recruited. I just hadn't been told yet. The first few deliveries are simple. Walk a few blocks, catch a bus, leave the bag somewhere, return with the cash. The money was heavy in my hands. It smelled like sweat, rubber bands and paper. I didn't feel powerful. I felt responsible. My mother's eyes when I handed her the money. They were grateful but tired. She never asked questions until one delivery went wrong.

I was held at gunpoint and robbed the bag. I didn't fight. I froze. I went back empty-handed. I expected to die that night. Instead, I was handed a gun. I had held guns before. Everyone had, but this was different. This one came with expectations and responsibility. I was told it wouldn't happen again, and I believed them. Life went on. I tried to

forget it. I almost did. Then one day, with no warning, I was told I had a job to do the next day, not watching, not caring, killing. They needed someone who didn't stand out. Some of the someone young, somebody nobody would notice. For the first time, I said no. The man who hired me got angry, not loud, but calm. I found that worse in a weird way. He told me if I didn't do it, I would disappear. Not arrested, not fired, gone.

I didn't sleep that night. I kept thinking about my sister, about my mother coming home and not finding me. I told myself, it was my life. life or a stranger's life and mine mattered more. That's the truth. I won't pretend otherwise. The next day I waited. I had never fired a gun before. I was shaking so badly I could hear it in my head. When the man came into view, I panicked. I pulled the trigger and missed. The bullet went past his head. The sound alone sent him running. I stood there like an idiot, knowing what would happen next.

I searched for him until my legs hurt and the sun started drooping. I had to be. I had a little. I had didn't find him. I went home to find my sister alone. My mother wasn't there. At first, I told myself she was late. Then I told myself she'd stayed overnight. By the next day, I knew. The same man who hired me had killed her while she was cleaning his house. I wasn't there. I didn't see it. I only understood when she never came back. My sister kept asking for, crying, pulling at my shirt. I told her our mother went to the United States for a better job. I said it without thinking. She believed me. That lie haunts me to this day. I used what money I had left to leave town. I bought a car that barely ran with rust everywhere. I told my sister, I found work somewhere else.

I told myself, I was saving her and I believed it. I left her in a daycare while I looked for someone to get us across the border. I found a coyote. Paid him. We were supposed to leave them. We were supposed to next day. When I came back, the daycare told me her father had picked her up. I didn't even understand the words at first. I demanded details. They didn't have any. A man, average height, busy day, too many kids, I never saw her again. I stayed three days. No sleep, asking strangers, asking places I shouldn't have, nothing. On the third night, I stopped trying. I tried to commit S-word by hurting myself with a rope and a tree outside town. The rope snapped.

I fell hard and laughed like a crazy person. Then I screamed at God until my throat burned. I didn't want to die before that night. After that night, I didn't want to live, but I was desperate for an exit. For salvation. I work small jobs, helping the elderly with demanding chores, fixing up lawns, helping street vendors sell goods, all while keeping my head down to not draw any past attention again. An old woman took pity on me. She said I worked hard. I lied to her, told her I was a runaway

from an abusive household. Not the best thing to do, but survival doesn't leave room for honesty. She let me stay at her house. That same night I stole from her. I'm not proud of that, but I won't lie about it. I paid another coyote. Crossed the Rio Bravo. almost drowned, made it across, ran from canines, hit from lights, ended up in the back of a truck that took me deeper into Texas where I now live. I got a job at a construction site, at 24 I got a work permit, no green card, no family. I've tried to remain alive since then, but I don't know if that's the same thing as living. I don't expect forgiveness. I'm riding it because it's been 12 years and it still wakes me up some nights and I'm tired of being the only one who knows.

That was my confession. And then the emailer leaves a PS saying P.S. If you're young and hearing this and are thinking of any part of this sounds powerful or exciting or like a shortcut out of poverty, listen to me carefully. There's nothing brave about this. There's nothing loyal about it. Nobody protects you. Nobody remembers you.

You are not a brother, not a soldier, not important. You are a tool. And tools get a place when they break. It doesn't start with blood. That's a lie. It starts with watching the corner, carrying a bag, staying quiet.

You tell yourself you're not hurting anyone. You tell yourself it's temporary. You tell yourself it's temporary. You tell yourself you're doing it for your family. Then one day you're standing there somewhere you never imagined. Holding something you can't put down anymore. And every option in front of you is wrong. People talk about money like it fixes things.

It doesn't. The money disappears. The hunger comes back. The fear never leaves. What stays is the guilt. The faces you can't forget in the nights where your chest feels. heavy for no reason and you can't explain to anyone else. You don't rise, you don't become anything, you decay slowly while pretending you're in control, and when it's over, if you're lucky enough to survive,

there is no redemption waiting for you. No apology that brings anyone back. No border you can cross that makes you feel clean again. You just carry it, quietly, forever. If you still have a choice, take it, even if it feels small, even if it feels humiliating, even if it feels like you're going nowhere. Because nowhere is still better than this. And just, wow, this was truly one of the most intense confessions I have ever read in my entire career of reading confessions, period, on Reddit or viewer submitted. This just has a level of intensity I have never felt before reading a confession, if that makes sense. And I don't even know what to say.

I truly don't have any words for this. It just was so, so intense. I mean, that's just the word that keeps coming to mind. It felt intense and sorrowful. But, yeah, I have no words. I mean, other than there is a good moral to take from this. if you are young or not even young, if you're in any position where you think the only way out

is through dealing or doing some other sort of illegal activity, it's not good. It's better to just keep doing nothing than doing that because doing nothing is better than this, like the O.P. said at the end or the email or said at the end, just wow. I just don't have any way. words. This just took the words out of my mouth and I don't know what to say. But please everyone

watching, comment down below what you think about this because I just, I'm very interested to hear your thoughts on this. And thank you to the viewer who submitted this confession. I pimped out high school girls for two years. One of them was my sister. Ask me anything. Of all the bad things I did back in my drug using, partying days, this has to be the worst. When I was in my early 20s, I dated a high school freshman and whether it was just because of my influence or whether there were other factors in play, I'll never know. But she was a really screwed up girl. I didn't care. Back then, all I cared about was booger sugar.

Pills, partying, and effing. Mary was into all of that, but there was a problem. We didn't have much money. She was just a kid, and I barely made $250 a week at my shitty landscaping job. One day, I had her with me while picking up some pills, and the dealer, stoned as fuck, told me he'd give us two extra pills if she slept with him. It took some convincing, but Mary eventually agreed, and that was the first time I pimped a girl out. She wasn't the only one or the one I most regret.

Like I said, Mary was a screwed up girl before I met her. I'm not saying I didn't make things worse for her, but I'm positive what ended up happening to her wasn't entirely my fault. The ones I regret most aren't even the friends. friends, she helped me recruits from her school after Mary became a proper escort. Most of them were also sort of crazy already, or else Mary wouldn't have been able to convince them to work for me. The one I regret most is my sister. She was 15 the first time she asked me for drugs.

Just weed, which I had plenty of, but I convinced her it cost 10 times. what it did. Keep in mind, I was on something practically all the time at this point and had grown used to seeing young woman as a means to make cash. I was absolutely without remorse or guilt. So she paid with saved up allowance money, something like $100 for two joints. Eventually, I brought her to her first rave and even paid for everything, including the pills. While she was rolling hard, I told a friend of mine to massage her, and when she began to complain that he was touching her too much, I told her to stop being a baby and just enjoy it. I watched my sister lose her virginity that night to a guy I barely remember anymore. He paid me $100 later for that.

It wasn't long before she became my constant companion at party. raves, and even clubs. Our parents were trying to control her by grounding her, but I convinced her to sneak out all the time. She and my two main girls, including Mary, would go out and get high, and then I'd hook them up with someone. I would take the majority of the money, and they never complained because they were scared of me for a couple of reasons. They were scared I might hurt them because, yes, I barely remember doing so, but while booger-suggered out, I was known for getting violent. They were also scared whenever I threatened to leave them or cut them off.

They saw me do that to a few of their friends, and they didn't want that to happen. This went on for two years. It ended after my sister was arrested for possession and solicitation. I'd had the right idea that my girls should be getting their own Johns, so I started bringing them to clubs where I knew the bouncers and send them in to find customers for their services. It worked well for a few short weeks until my sister got caught up in a police raid. They arrested dozens of people that night, my sister included,

but she was by far the youngest. After that, only Mary remained of my girls. The rest were scared now, and my sister was in a drug treatment center. I tried getting some of them back, even some of the ones I'd gotten rid of before. But I was circling the drain, and they seemed to know it. Suddenly, I wasn't the cool older guy. I was the loser-druggy guy. What finally got me to change was,

was the day I brought Mary over to one of my dealer's friend's place. This friend was supposedly really into young redheads and would pay $300 for some fun with her. My dealer vouched for him, but I brought Mary there myself anyway because I wanted the money. I was back to being broke and I needed cash desperately, so I brought her to this sketchy neighborhood and walked her to the door. Funny thing is, Crazy Mary was for once nervous and suggested we forget about this dude.

I insisted, though, and by now she always listened to me. When we entered the room, I knew something was off. There were three guys there, and they had flashlights. They said something about the power being off, and I stupidly believed them enough to let them lead me into the main room. Mary was freaking out by this point, probably because she realized what I hadn't. This house wasn't theirs. Hell, it was an abandoned house. No furniture, total mess, all fucked up.

Before all that registered to me, I was attacked. They beat the shit out of me. I barely remember any of it. I do remember being strapped into a gurney, and hearing a paramedic say that my lung was punctured. Turns out he was wrong, but I was in enough pain to believe it. I spent the next few days in the hospital being treated for a variety of things, including a concussion that required them drilling a hole in my skull,

broken ribs, a broken hand that never healed correctly, and of course, H. withdrawal. When the police spoke with me, I refused to answer, any questions until they asked me if I knew that my friend Mary had been assaulted as well. I remember feeling, and I still feel, the shame of realizing I had never even considered what happened to her. Turns out she had been violently R-worded while I was unconscious. They beat the hell out of her too. I think that's the first time I honestly felt guilt about what I've been doing for nearly two years. Not even my sister getting arrested had been enough to make me realize

what an asshole I was, but being shown the pictures of Mary's face, all swollen and bruised, made me cry like a girl. I told the police everything about my dealer friend and how he'd set up a date with Mary that night, but nothing ever came of it. The dealer kept his mouth shut, and even though they raided his home they only found a little pot no money guns or drugs he got a slap on the wrist yeah i cleaned up after that i've been drug free for five years now but mary last i heard is still a heavy user my sister got clean and is now in college but she's had a string of abusive boyfriends and i know that's probably my fault I was her big brother, and I taught her that men only want her for intimacy, and she's had a hard time unlearning that lesson. The other girls, I barely even remember and am too much of a coward to try and track down. And even though it was a Ask Me Anything, the OP didn't really answer a lot of questions, and the questions he did answer have since been deleted. I mean, this was posted 13 years ago, so a lot of the accounts that commented have been banned or deleted or whatever.

So let's just get into some of the top comments. Someone says, that is a confession. That is a story. And then someone replies saying, doesn't sound like bullshit to me. I've known plenty of people to live this kind of life. And I've been pretty close to those situations myself. not tricking for drugs and money but around while it was happening the people who are calling it fake have obviously never been in these situations being heavily addicted to drugs hanging out with dealers

who selling mass amounts of drugs or knowing girls who were so desperate for a fix that having intimacy with someone for drugs slash money wasn't even a question believe it or not this stuff doesn't only happen in the movies. Someone else says that's a effed up story. I'm glad you got a wake-up call and also decided to unburden yourself. Damn. Have you ever apologized to your sister or Mary

about what you did to them? I feel like that would bring a lot of healing too. Peace. And the OP replies saying, Yes, I apologize to my sister once, but only because she appalled. to me first. We don't discuss that time in our lives anymore. As for Mary, no. I only saw her once after being in the hospital, and that was when she came to me asking for a hookup.

I told her I was clean now, and she should be too, and she agreed, but while I stayed clean, she hasn't. Someone else says, track them down, do something. And the opi replies saying, call it a cop out, but I honestly don't know where to begin finding them. I don't even remember their full names. Mary might know, but last I heard

she had moved away, and the person who told me that said she was still really fucked up. And then an O.P. asks, what made you decide to do and ask me anything? And the O.P. replies saying, I just have a hard time sleeping, even

with medication. I get these awful nightmares that wake me up in the middle of the night and I feel like total shit. I feel like a fake when I go to my meetings. I try my best to get over my past but I can't stop thinking about it. My sponsor suggested that I'd be more open about everything I did back when I was using so I decided to try and ask me anything to see if it would help. And then someone replies saying, you will never get over your past because you are a truly rotten person. That doesn't change. Your only positive contribution to the world will be when you leave it. Hey Snook, this is my confession, and if you want to give your opinion after, please do. I love your

videos, by the way. I killed a man and got away with it. I used to work night shift in a maximum security prison, the kind of place where these cells are concrete and steel, and the people inside them are locked down 23 hours a day. If they're lucky, they get one hour in any. cage to breathe fresh air and see the stun like a dog in a kennel. The rest of the time, darkness, rage, boredom, and noise. It changes people. And it changes the people who work there, too, slowly, quietly, until you're not the same either. This story is the night I realized how far gone I really was. We had an inmate. He was part of the Aryan Brotherhood, White Guy covered in ink, dead eyes, and a reputation for being unpredictable. That night, he smoked some K-2. If you've

ever seen someone do it, you know it doesn't take much to send them over the edge. When the call came through the radio, that he was tweaking out, I was on my way responding with a sergeant. We headed down to Seahouse. As soon as we stepped in, I could tell something was off. He was pacing fast, muttering under his breath, muscles twitching like he was fighting under his own skin. We ordered him to cuff up. Nothing. Just stared through us like we weren't even real. We hit him with OC spray. Still nothing. More commands. More spray. his face was soaked but he didn't flinch. Eventually, maybe out of confusion or exhaustion, he complied. I don't really know why he complied. Well, kind of enough for us to get control

and escort him to decontamination. And that's when everything went to hell. While we were rinsing him off, trying to get the spray out of his eyes, he suddenly snapped. He mule kicked me in the chest so hard I hit the towel floor like a sack of potatoes. The impact knocked the breath out of me. and for a second, all I could hear was ringing in my ears. The sergeant pulled his taser and lit him up. It should have dropped him, but it didn't. It just enraged him and made him stronger. We hit our emergency buttons.

Fast. Two sergeants ran him first. Then came more officers. What followed wasn't a scuffle. It was a full-on brawl with this guy. He slipped one cuff and turned feral, headbutting one CO, punching another in the face, grabbing for anything he could use.

We all were bleeding. I was bleeding from the back of the head. He got tased four more times. Didn't matter. His body was moving on pure adrenaline in whatever chemicals were frying his brain. It took everything we had to get him down. When we finally did, we stomped him.

Over and over. Boots slamming into him just to keep him down. It wasn't just restraint. It was fear, fury, adrenaline. It was chaos. And then, finally, it was over. He was unconscious when they took him. Rush to an outside hospital.

Hours later, we got word. He didn't make it. I was also taken to an outside hospital and had 11 staples in the back of the head. My other officer had blood coming from his nose and was treated for that in a broken rib. We all had injuries to many to list, to be honest with you. I honestly expected investigations, reports were a real fallout, but that's not what happened. The captain called a few of us into the office and said, flat out, you did what she had to do.

That was it. No write-ups for any of us. No questions and no review. No cameras pulled. It vanished swept under the rug like it never happened. Except it did happen. And it didn't vanish for me. Since that night, I've been wrecked. PTSD, insomnia, nightmares that come so vivid I wake up gasping. I see his eyes. I hear the boots. I feel that cold blood on the back of my head. I take medication just to sleep. I go to therapy once a week. I walk around most. I walk around most days pretending I'm fine when I'm barely hanging on. And yeah, I've got survivor's guilt because I lived and he didn't. Because even though I knew he was dangerous, even though I know he could have

killed one of us, I still can't shake the thought that maybe we went too far, that maybe in the middle of all the chaos, something inside me snapped too, something I can't get back. People talk about working corrections like it's just another job, but no one tells you what it does to your mind. No one tells you that sometimes the worst monsters in the building are the ones in the cells. It's the things the job pulls out of you when you're pushed to the edge. I didn't just walk out of that prison with a paycheck. I walked out with blood on my hands and severe mental issues. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself.

And wow, thank you so much for sharing. And my advice right off the bat or just my thoughts is just in my mind, I'm just like, why would you feel bad? your life was in danger and um you're you had to fight back or else you know he could have killed you but i realize that that's way easier said than experiencing it and um being the cause of someone's death or being so close to witnessing it um is just i can't even imagine it and so i can't just say well you know he could have killed you because of course he did but i don't know how that would affect me but i can't imagine how it affects you i mean you just outlined it terrific and i i it seems horrible but it's just i'm glad you're getting help um like you said you already have therapy you know medication to

help you sleep a little but if i had some advice and you know take this lightly you know maybe getting a change of scenery could help if you can maybe you know go on a nice vacation to the woods or something with somebody go with your friends try to get out of the you know kind of day-to-day grind that you experienced before the incident and during the incident because you i think you really would need to kind of break that cycle or else that mental cycle is going to keep happening of, I mean, I'm not saying that's instantly into making you not feel bad, but I think it's going to remove you from the situation that's so familiar. And if you get out, go somewhere new, kind of get a whole new experience of everything,

it'll help take your mind off of that slightly. Keep going to therapy. You know, the medication will help, I'm sure. But I think something like that to kind of break the cycle of the mental, you know, just the mental recurrences of, you know, going back to the same place where, that incident happened. I can't imagine the feeling. You know, maybe do something like that. I don't know if that's even valid advice, but that's just kind of my thoughts on it. I'm sorry and things will get better. Just take it a day at a time and I believe in you.

Anyone watching, please comment down below your thoughts and if you've ever experienced something as horrific as that and any sort of advice. Thank you so much for sharing. I appreciate it. And on to the next one. Hey Snook, my confession has been eating me alive. I'm doing better now, and I saw your videos on confessions, and I decided to put mine in, I hope to be in a video, but even a email back saying you read, I would be happy. Hey, I don't really know how to start this, but I have to say something. I owe it to a lot of people, into myself. My name is Diego. I'm 17, and a few days ago, I did something that I can't take back. Something that's been tearing me up.

inside. I killed a puppy. Not on purpose, but it happened, and it's my fault. It was my neighbor's dog. Her name was Luna. She was this little golden retriever puppy, like maybe four months old, just full of energy, always running around when we were outside. I was backing out of our driveway. I wasn't even going fast. Music was on. I was in a hurry. I didn't see her. I didn't even know she had gotten out. And then I felt the bump. I thought it was a rock. I stopped, I got out, and she was there. She was already gone. I froze.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't believe what I was seen. I just broke down right there in the driveway. I told my neighbor right away. I told my mom. I've cried more in the past few days than I ever have in my life. It was an accident, but that doesn't make it okay. She trusted me.

Everyone did. And I let them down. I keep playing it in my head, wondering what if I checked? what if I had looked again? What if I hadn't been rushing? I know saying sorry doesn't fix this, but I am sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I would give anything to take it back. To Luna, I'm so sorry.

You didn't deserve that. You deserved a long, happy life, and I took that from you. I don't expect forgiveness. I just wanted to tell the truth. And to say, I will never, ever let anything happen like this again, ever. Thank you for listening. This isn't spooky or unsettling. It's just depressing.

I dated a guy for nine years, was married to him for two, then left him for someone I met online, and I regret it so much. This guy was my best friend in high school. I was immediately enamored with him when I saw him because he was a shy dork and so was I. I actually left my high school boyfriend to be with his friend, but that's a different story. We dated for a long time and we're really happy. We supported each other through college and experienced lots of up and downs. the happiest I've ever been was when I was with him.

Then the pandemic hit, and we were trapped inside together constantly. I met someone online and fell in love with him almost as much as I left my husband. I even brought up the idea of plammery to my husband, but he wasn't into it. He really wanted to work things out, and we even tried couples therapy, but my dumbass thought this other guy was the one for me. So I left my husband for this other guy, who moved to my state to be with me. I'm still friends with my ex-husband, and he's doing great for himself. I'm so proud of him.

I've been doing worse since this split, but I'm currently working on myself in therapy. I'm still with the other guy whom I still love, but it's just not the same love I had with my ex-husband. It hurts sometimes to see my ex doing so much better than I am, but I'm also really happy that he is. He deserves to be happy. My sister had a child recently, and sometimes it pains me to think about the child I could have shared with my ex. He would have been a great dad. Hell, he would have been a great uncle to this kid. Oh well. Anyway, that's it. Hopefully this provides some juicy drama to a video. I'm still trying to work on myself as well as my ex does for himself.

He's doing so great and, again, I'm so proud of him. Back in 2015, during what I'd call my scumbag era, I pulled off a scam that still weighs on me to this day. It all started pretty innocently. One of my friends had a gift certificate for a local pizza place. It wasn't a big chain, just a small family run spot. The gift certificate was printed on basic paper with a dollar amount and a handwritten signature. Nothing fancy. Right away, I noticed how easy it would be to fake it. So I scanned it, photoshopped out the price, added my own amount, forged the signature,

and printed off a stack of fake ones. My friend was down and soon we had another buddy and on it too. We had a little system. I'd go in and use one. then a few days later my friend would go, then the third guy. We rotated who picked up the pieces to avoid drawing attention. This went on for about three months. We probably walked away with over $1,000 worth of free food, and we never got caught.

But eventually, I started to feel horrible about it. It wasn't some massive corporation. It was a family business. People working hard, probably scraping by. I put an end to the whole thing and never did anything like that again. It's been almost 10 years and I still feel guilty. I know I'll never be able to pay them back or undo it, but I wanted to at least put it out there.

Even if I didn't get caught, I know what I did, and that's enough. And I know you didn't ask for my opinion on this, but, you know, I'm honestly very surprised that pizza place didn't catch on to that where it's three guys that constantly get free food and they have a ton of different free certificates. It seems like kind of a fault in their system, obviously. Like if three guys keep coming in week after week after week after week after week for three months and you keep giving them free food, I would think something's up, but I'm not blaming this on the free food plate or on the not the free food place,

the pizza place. But I mean, it's been 10 years. and that's good that you, you know, feel remorse for it. And I know you probably won't ever go back to that pizza place and say, hey, I did this X amount of years ago, or 10 years ago, but, you know, maybe to help your conscious give back to some sort of charity, give back to that pizza place somehow.

If you're ever back there, maybe leave a huge tip. I don't know. I really don't know how you feel better about it. But, you know, yeah, that's not a great thing you did. But at least you feel remorse for it. I don't want you to feel guilty, but that's good. You feel sorry for doing it. And hopefully you're doing better now.

And thanks for submitting it. I appreciate being so honest. And yeah, on to the next one. Hey, Snook. I've been a fan since the iceberg days. just wanted to finally share something personal. I recently started getting my mental health in order, but there's one story I've never told publicly before. And before we get into your story, thank you for sticking around for so long. I really, really appreciate it. Thank you for watching

the videos. It means a lot. And let's get into your story. I live with bipolar disorder, and I also have pretty severe PTSD. Some days, it gets so hard to tell what's real and what's not. Growing up, I was surrounded by extremely religious people, and on top of that, I experienced a lot of abuse, so when my brain started working against me, it was terrifying. One day, in English class, something just snapped. I remember it clearly. It felt like my brain cracked open. It wasn't just emotional pain. It felt physical. Everything went black after I walked to the principal's office. When I came back to reality, I was in a psych ward. Turns out, I had caused a major scene, at school. I apparently said some really scary things, and it shook everyone. I stayed in the hospital

for two weeks. If it weren't for the support I got from a few friends and family members, I don't know where I'd be right now. There were times I seriously considered giving up, but I didn't. Talking to people is what helps the most, just having someone there to remind me what's real and that not everyone is out to get me. The good news, things are looking up. My art, which is often, and inspired by my hallucinations, was just accepted into a humanities conference in Troy, Alabama. That recognition has brought me so much joy. It makes me feel like I can actually help people, not just survive, but thrive. And maybe even prevent someone else from ending up where I was, or worse, where some of my family members ended up. I've lost people to drug overdoses,

and it's something that drives me to keep creating and sharing. So yeah, if this makes it into your video, I hope it reminds people that even in your darkest moments, things can get better. And please, talk to someone. That's what saved me. And I really, really appreciate you sharing this story. A lot of people, this is going to be kind of a tangent off of your story, not directly related, but this is kind of why I make these type of videos. A lot of people say that, you know, I might make super, you know,

disturbing videos and on it. Some people say I take advantage of these people's bad experiences, but I would completely disagree because of stories like this that can show you things can get better. The disturbing things are, yes, interesting and just catch people's attention, but also they show that things can get better. There is evil in the world, obviously, but there's also a lot of good and I think everyone can have their piece of that goodness. And I really, really appreciate you sharing this. And hopefully it's found relatable to people who are in a bad place right now. And it will get better. And I really, really appreciate you sharing the story. And it made it into a video. So that's awesome. I'm glad you sent it in, man. I'll see the next one. Hey, Snook. I've been watching

your videos for the past few months and I absolutely love your content. I saw your post on YouTube and decided to finally share my story. I really hope you include it in one of your videos. And if you do, please share your thoughts on it. That would mean a lot. Also, please keep this anonymous. You can call me Dindin. Thank you so much for the kind words again. And I'm glad you sent in your story. And don't worry, I'll keep it anonymous. And yeah, this will be in a video. So here it goes. It started when my sister, Jan, my cousin, M, a few of M's friends, two girls and a guy, and I decided to go to the cliff. for a laid-back picnic. We were just looking for a chill afternoon,

but if only we knew how wrong it would go. Once we got to the cliffs, we laid out a blanket and set up our spot. At some point, M and I had this weird idea to have everyone washed their hands near the edge of the cliff. I don't know why we thought that was a good idea. It was about a 200-foot drop.

While walking towards the cliffside, Jan and I were bickering about forgetting the salad dressing. She had the paper soap in her hand, so we walked up together. Before washing my hands, I threw a rock off the edge. Watching it fall made my stomach drop. That feeling, the one you get when you're falling in a dream, I have it all the time now.

And whenever I do, I always dream of that cliff. I washed my hands first, then stepped aside to let Yang go next. I turned around to grab some paper towels from my backpack, and then I heard her say something faint like, din, then help me. Her voice was so quiet and I thought she was joking. About 20 seconds later, I turned back and saw her, hanging on with one hand. I panicked and ran to pull her up, but the rock she was gripping gave way, and she fell. I froze. Then I ran back to the group like nothing had happened. When they asked where Jan was, I said it didn't know. No one saw us go to the cliff

together, so they didn't think twice. M said he saw her head up the hill while we kept our backpacks, so everyone assumed she went home. Since her backpack was with her, it made sense. The rest of the day blurred by. When M and I got home, our moms were already asking where Jan was. That's when it all hit me again. Em said she came home, and I just nodded along.

Later, he called his friends and they got the cops involved. They searched for her, but they never checked the bottom of the cliff. I wanted to tell the truth. I really did. But I was terrified. I still am. They buried her four months later in an empty casket. The police declared her dead after the winter passed.

It's been 14 years, 10 months, and 24 days since that day. And I still blame myself. I've never talked to a therapist. I'm scared they won't keep it confidential, but telling you, Snook, Even just typing this out has made me feel maybe 0.1% lighter. Thanks for listening and maybe, just maybe, sharing this story in one of your videos. And you asked for my opinion, so I'm going to try my best, but if this really happened, I honestly don't even know what to say.

This is really, really, you know, impactful. And that's crazy you've held it in for, over a decade without sharing it to ever anyone and uh i think this is perfect timing with the past with the last story we just covered talk to someone please talk to someone that would really really help you you know you've carried it for over a decade by yourself and um you even said it yourself even if it helps you 0.1% uh that's still something and just telling you know a stranger on the internet i just read stories obviously. But yeah, that's a very disturbing story. I don't blame you for acting the way you did.

That's a horrifying experience and a situation. And, you know, no one can really say how they would act until they're put in a situation like that. But I really, really think you should live true to the words that were in the last story from that guy who experienced a lot of bad shit, just talk to someone. Please talk to someone, whether it's a therapist or someone you trust, a friend, family member, because from the outside, it seems like you're carrying this completely alone and have been for a long, long time, and no one should have to carry anything like this alone. please talk to someone. I hope you're doing all right. Thank you so much for sharing, but I think

the family of that girl has to know. Not has to know what, I mean, closure is an important thing. And yeah, I don't know whether or not to believe this is true. I don't know. But thank you for sharing. And I hope my words of advice helped a little bit. on to the next one. Viewer confession. Hello Snook, before I start, I'd like to thank you. Your video is carrying me through work a lot, but carrying on, here is my confession. Sorry if it's long or my grammar is bad.

I abused my classmates' dog. When I was a preteen, I used to pick on a kid. For this story, I won't be using his real name, but I'll use something he goes by, so that on the off chance he somehow sees this, he can hear it and hopefully get closure from my actions. So, Dedact, if you're seeing this, I truly am sorry. Didact was very introverted, as he didn't speak much because he was self-conscious about his lisp.

At the time, I didn't know much about him. I just thought it was funny because he sounded different. I tormented him for so long as he knew kid at school solely so I could fit in with the wrong people. until one day he finally spoke to me. This was the first time I had ever heard him speak to me directly. He spoke calmly and only said one thing. Why are you like this?

Then he began to turn his back to me. At the time, it caused an explosion within me. I won't use it as an excuse, but my late mother would always say that to me whenever I acted out. And it made me angry. I tried to sucker punch him while he wasn't facing me. I don't know how he pulled it off, but he ducked without even looking and did some kind of karate-looking kick that I didn't even have time to register before it knocked me out. I was suspended.

It didn't take long for me to become the main joke for that semester because not only did I bully a kid, but the kid I bullied knocked me out in less than 10 seconds. I couldn't take it, so I started trying to find some way to hurt him. I knew I clearly couldn't beat him. I found out he fought a lot, mainly because of people like me. So he was naturally quite good at it. So I went for the thing he cherished the most. His dog. Daisy.

She was everywhere you saw him outside of school. She was on the wallpaper of every device he owned, and if he was outside, that dog was always with him. I knew how much he loved her. Skipping some details, I found her. She was near my backyard at the time. I have no idea why, but I assumed she ran off. I took my grandfather's cane and beat her.

I hurt her so badly that I thought I had killed her. I went back inside without even bothering to clean up what I had done, and for some sick reason, I felt fulfilled and happy. I still can't escape the hate I feel for myself for taking joy in hurting a living creature. But she's survived. She's still alive to this day. Even so, Dedak was devastated. It hurt him so much that he did something unthinkable to someone else.

And it's all my fault. My grandfather at the time was known to dislike that dog because she would constantly sneak into his yard. So, if you can guess where this is going, everybody in that neighborhood thought my grandfather did it. It didn't help that the first sight of Dact was greeted with when he knocked on the door was my grandfather's, discarded, bloody cane lying on the porch. He lost it. He beat my grandfather so badly, it nearly paralyzed him. My grandpa was a good person. He was a veteran, and despite him not liking Daisy, I knew he loved animals almost as much as didact himself. He would never have hurt a dog. But because of me, his name is still ruined. Even after death, because of his death, because he

because people think he was some cruel old man who beat a little kid's pet nearly to death and faced the consequences. And it's all my fault. I know the destruction I caused won't go away with this confession, but if you're seeing this to act, you surely know who I am. You're smart enough to figure it out. I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart. I regret my actions and I hope you grow into an even better person than you already are.

I hope your career in animal rescue succeeds, and I wish Daisy a long and healthy life. I doubt this will be on time, but happy late birthday to your K9 best friend. And thank you, Snook. In advance, if you go over this story, I'm not the person I once was, and I hope you and everybody else can forgive me for my cruel actions. I'm now a doctor, and every day I hope my good deeds will outweigh the bad. The reason I didn't confess this earlier is because at the time I was afraid of him, but now that we're both adults, I respect him and everybody else who can see the true value of life.

There is no innate hierarchy of value. We are all living beings who just want to live our lives. Harming one, no matter what creature it is, is an unforgivable act. I just hope others can learn from the lesson I have. And I just have one quick thing to say to you and some feedback to this horrifying confession. Please, that apology you just wrote to me or that apology you just wrote out, please send that to deduct. You have it written out. You feel sorry.

Why are you banking on him seeing this video? Why are you waiting for him to see my video or see this video? And instead of just reaching out to him personally. Please. And even if you guys have each other blocked on social media or whatever, reach out to his girlfriend or wife, or mom or dad or brother, sister, or friend, or whatever, please reach out to him personally and forgive him.

I mean, what you did to him was horrible. There's no downplaying that. You beat his dog nearly to death because he loved his dog and you bullied him for things he couldn't control. So please, the one thing I have to say is, please reach out to deduct. I mean, I'm sure he's still thinking about this. Years later, you know, such a horrible situation and a horrible thing you did, no doubt about it.

But please just reach out to him and personally apologize. And he doesn't have to forgive you. He doesn't have to forgive you at all. But I think he deserves an apology for what you did for him. And so please, like I said, don't bank on him seeing this video. I mean, I don't, the chances of that are very, very low. I have to bet. and so please just reach out to him personally and say I'm sorry and tell him exactly what you told me

all of the things you said and um you know hopefully he can forgive you and if he doesn't oh well but at least you apologize to him i purposely killed a kitten hi snook i love listening to your videos so please never stop doing what you're doing part of my grammar english is not my first language i'd appreciate it if you kept me anonymous and placed this story in a a Confessions video. I really want to get this off my chest because I've been holding onto it for more than two years at this point. I've never been diagnosed with anything. ADHD, OCD, not even depression. Because I live in an island where mental health is nothing more than a stupid thing made up by the younger generations, during this time I can't deny that my walls were crumbling and really need someone

to talk to. But I don't want to be labeled as someone who's psychopathic because of this incident. It's important to note that in this island, we don't have any of those big stores. Walmart, Home Depot, etc. So buying stuff to take care of pets is considered a privilege. We don't even have any kibbles or grooming tools. People need to place orders and wait around a week to a month just to ship out a delivery and get them across islands surrounded by large masses of water with shipping fees worth more than the actual order and a locals' week-long salary. So you can imagine the amount of strays roam in the streets. Also, we don't have any shelters or veterinary clinics. It's not unusual to see puppies or kittens in a bush, left behind by either stray moms or locals

who knew they wouldn't be able to take care of any more pets. This was the reason I wanted to become a vet, which is ironic considering the story's title. As a kid, I've adored animals and always knew I wanted to become someone who could help them. But after this incident, I really don't know if my conscience can take becoming a one anymore. In school, some of my classmates heard a faint meme. meowing, right outside the exit door, behind a small concrete fence. We went to check it out and found a small kitten, which looked not even week old, as if it was fresh out of its mother's womb. All of us were shocked to see this. That area was common for snake sightings. Yes, as dangerous

as it sounds, we still had to study in this kind of environment because we had no other choice. We thought the mother would come back, so we waited until last period, which ended around 5 p.m. and we would usually stay until dark just because this was the only time of the day where you could get to properly hang out and chill with their friends. After that, we went to check whether the mother came back or not. It hasn't. It was just there, laying on the cold, concrete ground. Panicking, they all entrusted me with the kittens since they knew how much I loved animals.

I didn't know what I was thinking this time. I knew a kitten who was just born wouldn't have a chance to survive without a mother's warmth and milk. But still, I took it home and even showed it to my parents, saying, I took it in because I was confident that it would survive in my hands. If only I had the chance to reverse everything. I'd smack my own head just so the guilt would stop. I prepared everything it needed.

A warm and cozy place to sleep with clothes I didn't use anymore. A flashlight to use when I needed to feed it. A syringe I borrowed from my neighbor to feed the warm milk I made and paid close attention during everything. I learned that newborn kittens needed to be fed every two to three hours for the first week. I thought I had everything under control. But then the meowing began. Oh, the meowing.

I wanted to tear my ears out just to make it stop. It didn't help that we still had classes at 7 a.m. the next day. I kept telling myself that for someone who wanted to become a vet, you can't even handle a puny cat's cries for milk. The syringe didn't have the needle at the end, so this made it hard to feed the cat. In ordering those silicone nipples would take around a week to a month to arrive, I was also a 15-year-old just living off my allowance,

which in the U.S. money was only 34 cents. I knew taking it in was a mistake, but I had forced it because I wanted to prove that as a vet at heart, I could make things work, but after everything, I snapped. I was not thinking straight when this happened. I grabbed a piece of thick cloth, and with all my strength, I pushed down. I smothered the kitten with the intentions of suffocating and killing it. While it tried its best to meow and ask for me to stop, a couple of minutes of doing this, I could hear its meow growing fainter and fainter until eventually it stopped. I'm a murderer, I thought. I could not comprehend what just happened.

During all of this, my flashlight was behind me casting this terrifying shadow, and I swear I could hear voices screaming at me, blaming me for killing a poor, innocent cat. I wish I could tell you that this was the end, but after sitting there and slowly realizing what I did, I looked at its body. I saw a small gas for air. This poor kin was still fighting to live.

I wanted to get it out of its misery. I took it outside in the dark with my flashlight in my left hand, this kin in my right, this was probably two or three in the morning, where a stream of water was waiting. I kneeled down and I placed it in the water for the current to take it. It wasn't curiosity that killed the cat.

It was me. Until now, I'm still guilty of doing this, but I wanted a place to confess of how horrible of a person I am. I went back inside and went to bed crying that night. In the morning, I even lied and told everyone that the kitten just couldn't make it through the night. I hate myself so much, Snuck, but I choose to carry the skills as a reminder that,

if it, the snakes could have done the same. I should have just let them do it instead of putting unnecessary blood on my hands. To me, animals and humans are the same, not the humans are mammals, type of logic, but literally seeing them as mute humans. So this incident, to me, felt like I murdered someone. Today, me becoming a vet feels like a crime. I hate myself for being so fucking dumb for doing something so horrendous to a cat who was weaker, defenseless, and had nothing but its meows to use against me.

I tell myself that whenever I see pets, but around eight months ago, we found another stray. I'd never do the same shit twice and regret it all over again. I found this one while she was around a month old, and she's a sweetheart. This is my way of repenting for what I did. And so far, everything's been amazing. I love her the same way I wished I did for the first. I'm getting into college soon, and even though it still feels like a crime to choose vet med, it's the only way I can help with the guilt. That's all, Snook. If you ever read this, thank you for taking your time, and I hope you continue this way of YouTube because you're seriously helping people out there get these things off their chests. I know this sounds nothing

like the other stories you've read, but to me, as someone who dreamed of saving animals from the very start, I can never be forgiven. Hello, Snook, I hope you're doing well with all of these confessions. Make sure to take care of yourself. I have extreme fantasies about murdering. I want to be a notorious serial killer that people will talk about decades after. I want my victims to be absolutely mangled and disgust even the professionals working behind the case. I admit that I disgustingly watched disturbing videos to ease the desires, but truthfully, I want to see it in person. I want to feel what it's like to sink my teeth on human flesh. and see how much blood a body really has.

I want to see how badly I can ruin people's lives. For how much I watch true crime videos, I have the perfect way to execute one, which I'm ashamed and proud of. That's it, really. Feels better to confess that keep this in me. I wish I could get mental help, but I live in an unsafe household.

Thanks. And all right, you didn't ask for, you know, my opinion on it, but this deserves an opinion, I think. Please talk to somebody. anybody about that before it gets out of control. Please don't watch those sort of videos online either. I censored it for YouTube purposes, but it starts with a G. Yeah, please get that taken care of.

I understand watching some of those disturbing videos online can be kind of an addiction almost. But, you know, like I always give, or the advice I always give people, just please take it a day at a time. If you, I mean, you don't need to listen to me. you're probably not, but, you know, take it a day at a time. Just say today, I'm going to work on my thoughts and actions. And don't say I'm never going to think about disturbing stuff like that again, because, you know, that's kind of unrealistic. But just take it a day at a time, say today, I'm going to try and not think about stuff like that because that's very unhealthy. Yeah,

it's not a good thing. And if you can, I know you said you couldn't because you're an unsafe household. I don't know your circumstances. But if you're in school, if you go to work somewhere, talk to a boss, talk to a school counselor, school therapist, school nurse, whatever, please. That really needs to be, you know, looked into by somebody else. And I think you might need some help. So please look into that. And hopefully you can take my advice or some people's in the comments advice. But yeah, please get some help before, you know, you do something irrational.

Thank you. On to the next one. Dear Snook, I've been lurking your channel and appreciate the control. confession videos. I have a lot to confess, but this one is recent, and I don't want to talk to my friends about it. If any of my friends are watching, please pretend you've never seen this. I know I've mentioned this before, but I don't want to have this discussion anytime soon and be caught vulnerable. I also hope that the comments will treat me with kindness. This might be a long one, and I apologize if it is all over the place, so get ready. To perface, I'm female, 21, and I've been in therapy for 10

years. For the last four years, I've been in a therapy program which specializes in borderline personality disorder, which I'm being treated and medicated for. Recently, I was talking to my therapist who have been seen for a bit over a year. Mid-session, she got this look on her face, like she wanted to say something. I asked what she was thinking, and she said, I don't know if I should tell you. I don't want to scare you. I, having just said something incredibly self-centered, joked. What? You think I have narcissism? She paused and went, no, no, you don't have narcissism, but I think you could have, what do you know about sociopathie? My heart paused, everything paused. I admit I've done some bad

things in my life, and there was a point when I was an edgy teenager who thought I could be a sociopath, but I sort of chalked it up to being dramatic and looking for attention. She says, while I don't fit all the criteria for antisocial personality disorder, medical term for what the public knows as a sociopath, but that over the past year of her knowing me, she's been toying with the idea of me having it, or at least having antisocial tendencies. This has me thinking about all the times in my life I've been a bully just for entertainment, the way I can't empathize with people, I don't immediately care about, the way I have a bad habit of watching people get hurt online. Please don't lecture me. I'm aware it's an unhealthy thing to enjoy. And besides my friends,

who have seen their fair share of Reddit people dying, I keep it private. I don't think it's helpful or cool when people brag about being desensitized, but I sort of think it's more than that for me. I'm not desensitized. There are still videos and images that shock me, but it's exhilarating to me. There are videos I've watched over and over because I enjoy it. I almost wish I could feel bad about it.

In fact, I actually feel a bit bad that I don't feel bad. I know that when I watch those videos, I'm watching videos of someone's child, parent, or friend, I find it's so hard to care about that fact. It's taboo. It's exciting. And it gives me a little peek into something scary that I probably won't experience in real life. Horror movies turn me on, but knowing it's fake takes some of the excitement away. When I'm watching real videos, it's addicting.

I don't even know that borderline PD and antisocial PD could coexist, but apparently it can. My therapist said I show traits, and it's possible I'll love. end up being diagnosed with something like BPD with ASPD traits. I won't tell my parents unless it's something actually diagnosed, since I feel they will invalidate me and tell me there's no way I can be a sociopath, that I'm so sweet and caring and funny. While I care deeply about those in my close circle, it is nearly possessive and stems from my fear of losing them. That's the borderline, I guess. I rely on my parents, best friends, and we do a lot to protect my little sister. One main trait of ASPD is having a lack of empathy, except from my little sister. I don't really feel what other people feel.

I understand why somebody would be upset in a certain scenario, but it doesn't directly affect me. I tell them that I'm sorry they're having a bad day slash time slash experience, but if I'm being honest, it's mostly to change the subject or do crisis control. I find it annoying when anyone besides me complains about something. I'm working on that since I hate being seen as a complainer, and I know that relationships require both parties to cater towards one, another equally. Another trait is a lack of remorse. I feel regret for things, usually because of their negative effects on my life or relationships, but I really can't think of something I felt true remorse for. A few days after having a psychotic episode when I was around 15, I choked my mom

until my dad helped me down. She wasn't hurt, but in that moment, I really wanted to hurt her. I was able to talk myself out of going to a psych ward since I said to commit S word if they sent me away. I wouldn't actually have, but I was scared and a psych ward would be super inconvenient. I regret scaring my parents because it made them walk on eggshells around me for a while, which made me uncomfortable. But I don't feel bad about what I did. Same goes for the past friends I have mentally hurt. I feel sorry that I lost the comfort of people who I had fun times with. But I don't feel sorry the way I think that somebody guilty feels sorry.

I want my best friends to be happy because them being happy. happy benefits my life. We have more fun together. I don't have to comfort someone awkwardly. I don't have to walk on eggshells about what I say, etc. But as long as it isn't me, I find it really hard to give much thought to it. I wish my friend's happiness because I know it's the right thing to do, but it also gives me an ego boost when they come to me upset. I like feeling trusted and dependable, and I can feel that connection. My borderline makes me incredibly clingy and selfish when it comes to who they hang out with, feeling left out, and the intense fear they'll wake up one morning and want nothing to do with me anymore. I care about them so incredibly

much, but mostly because they make me happy, not because I see them as their own people. The best way I can describe it is that they're an extension of me, and because I care about myself, why wouldn't I care about them? I know that makes me sound horrible and uncaring, but I truly do care in my own way. They know all about my problems. I've told them almost everything, and I have never even felt trapped or like I need to fake myself around them. Sometimes, I still find myself having thoughts of hurting them, but I recognize that it is an unhelpful thought. I'm self-aware enough to be conscious on my level of empathy, and I'm careful to take actions that are good, helpful, and caring. I know that thoughts don't make you a bad person, and that actions do. So I

practice mindfulness and have learned to turn off my phone rather than argue with people and exploit what they've said to me in confidence. I think that might honestly be the reason that I've gone so long thinking I was normal and why my therapist is hesitant to formally diagnose me with something as life-changing or forever labeling as ASPD. Maybe it's because I've been in therapy for 10 years or maybe it's just because I don't have ASPD and my therapist is wrong about me. Who knows? At this point, if I'm diagnosed or not, doesn't really matter because as long as I'm aware of my habits and thoughts, I know I will be okay. But it's just been on my mind the past few weeks. Thanks for listening and I hope that this might make people give a second thought to labeling their crazy ex as a sociopath since it goes much

deeper than someone saying something mean out of anger. It is having fantasies about hurting people, about causing destruction, and about the enjoyment that comes with those thoughts. In my times of anger, I have planned how to ruin people's lives, even those I'm closest to. It scares me that I can think that way. But I know deep down that I am loyal, and it would take a lot to get to me to do something actually dangerous or sinister. I know that causing people pain is not productive will give me a bad image and will make me lose even more people for my life.

I can't afford that, with the amount of happiness and peace I've had with my best friends. I hope to anybody be listening that you consciously take care of those around you. treat people kindly, and maybe your positive thoughts can cancel out my negative ones. Thank you. Thank you for allowing people to open up when they feel as if they can't tell anyone at all. Here's my confession. The reason I've never met my father. I am from a small town in Michigan, USA.

My family on my mom's side is originally from Michigan in Florida, but on my dad's side, everyone is from Indiana. I was born there, actually. I've lived in Michigan for most of my life. I am 20 years old. You'll need this backstory for this confession to make more sense. My mom had five kids. I am the third. My dad has three kids. I am also the third on that side. About a year before, I was born. My father was sentenced to prison for 65 years for murder, and an additional 20 years for dealing substances. Not only was he dealing these substances,

he was doing them. My oldest brother was four years old and my dad had beaten him to death. It brings me trauma because I've never met my brother or his murderer. I've wrote him and talked to him on several occasions. In fact, we write to each other quite often. I try to forgive him because it's the past, but even that is very hard to do. To add on to the story, I didn't meet either of my brothers from my dad until I was 17. I was never allowed to see them as a child. I never even knew about them until I was searching the internet one day.

Everyone knew about it except for me. Why did... This family is on the... brink of civil war. Mopland, the hit original series is now streaming on Paramount Plus. We are the Hurricanes. Don't know than yet? And Google us.

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No one tell me. I'm not sure. Maybe he was to protect me. is to protect me. I have an entire family that has never seen or met me before because of the incident. It's crazy to process. I have more confessions to make that I've also never told anyone about. Hopefully this will make it into a video and show people that it's okay to forgive people for the wrong they've done. Thank you. Hey, Snook, it's a little bit of an oddball confession, but I want to be a mother in the future, just in a pretty toxic way. I want to be the kind of mother,

the safe one when my future spouse is unkind and harsh. I want to live out an abused wife life, to have my future child see me beaten, but I still love them and protect them. I want to be the only parent they love. I know it's bad, but I like the thought of being abused, but still better. I grew up an abuse and dated abusive people, so I know what it's like, and I kind of just crave it. I'm obviously not going to put a kid in a dangerous situation, so I'll probably just stay a single mother. I was a crystal addict at 13. And by crystal, I mean the drug. And let's get into it.

Hey, Snook, thanks for taking the time to read these confessions. I hope you're doing well. And I'm doing great. Thank you so much for asking. And let's get into it. I apologize for this, as it may be a long read. Without getting into too much detail, I'd like to give some backstory. The day after my 11th birthday,

my dad passed away. Being an extremely innocent kid, I didn't really understand the concept of death. I didn't understand my dad was forever gone until I saw my mom completely spiral. Immediately after news of his death, my mom threatened to harm us and then tried to commit S word.

She got sent away on a 50-250, a 14-day psychiatric hold. Surprisingly, we weren't taken away. My brother took care of it. of us until my mom came back. And six months later, we moved to Las Vegas. In Vegas, she dated her ex-abusive husband, who is the father of my two eldest siblings. My other brother and I are the children of the one who passed. My mother immediately became addicted to Crystal and other various drugs, and he was a drug dealer. I was homeschooling for sixth grade at the time, but my mom didn't

help me at all, and I didn't know how to turn in assignments, so I thought. failed. I was a curious child, and seeing them do it made me curious as to what it was. I'm not sure how it started, but I acquired my own crystal pipe. My stepdad gave me some crystal, and I learned how to smoke it. I was 13. I met someone who was 17 or 18 at the time, and I started dating him. He had a child with another woman, and he cheated on me consistently. I did more drugs to cope with it. My drug use spirited. heavily. The withdrawals I felt from the crystal were the worst pains I've ever felt in my life. It felt like my stomach was tearing open and my body was dying. I did everything you can think of,

pills, alcohol, cannabis, crystal, and booger sugar. I mixed things. Did pills with alcohol to feel something. I did crystal the most though, 10 plus times a day or more. I even did it with my mother to bond with her. I was trot from school, missing over 90 days in one semester. I was extremely malnourished. While all of this was going on, my mother rarely fed me. Money was prioritized for drugs, money coming in for my dad's life insurance. I wore hand-me-downs for my mom, which were not appropriate for school or for a 13-year-old. The abuse from my stepdad was excessive to my mom. He threw into a mere one time and threatened to

stab me with a spoon. This was normal. This was my normal. Anytime they'd fight, they'd blare music. They'd do that often. To bond with me, my stepdad would take me to motels and have me deal drugs for him. Here, I was essayed by my

stepdad's friend. We'd go to crack houses, and I moved out for three months of squad and abandoned house with my boyfriend at the time, and two homeless men. I was 14. I vividly remember the toilet being full of maggots, needles everywhere, and I slept on a futon with no mattress. I came back home, and my room was full of bedbugs. I mean, falling from the ceiling type of infestation, thousands upon thousands.

So I moved downstairs and slept on the couch. This is when I got really depressed. Like, really depressed. My boyfriend at the time started hurting me. I tried to commit S-word with an excessive amount of pills and passed out in the bathroom. My mom saved me. I hated her for it. My mom also threatened to self-delete often.

That's what the original writer wrote, especially if I sided with my stepdad, which I never really talked about much. So I didn't side with anyone. My boyfriend shortly after punched me and he almost broke my ribs. I kicked him in self-defense and he tried to OD as well. I gave him CPR, not understanding how to help. I was panicking. My stepdad threw ice on him and somehow that revived him. I was more scared about the police than him dying.

That's how my parents conditioned me. When he got better, which was a few days later, he did something to himself and wrote, I'm sorry in blood on my bedroom door. That was my final straw. I had my grandpa drive him to the other side of town and I broke up with them. About six months after that, my eldest brother gave me the opportunity to move out. Nobody knew the extent of how bad it was at my mom's.

Nobody lived there but me. I had no phone, no connections to anybody. It was meant to be that way. I don't know what inspired me to get better, but I took the opportunity. I had my friend locked me in a room with no access to drugs, and I quit, cold turkey. Dumbest decision of my life. I don't remember much besides the pain. I did end up moving out, and while what I went through here is another story for another time,

I currently am in a much better place. I'm sober for eight years. I have full restraint from drugs, and I'm happy. I'm thankful for my brother endlessly for saving my life. I'm not sure what would have happened if he didn't reach out. My mom is homeless now, so I'm sure my life would have reflected that. To those of you who still are here, I hope you take the opportunity to be thankful for the good things in your life.

And please, for me, stay away from drugs. It's not fun. It will ruin your life. It doesn't help. It makes you numb and blind to the bad things around you. Thank you for reading, Snuck. Have a great day. And I just want to say thank you so much for sharing this,

and I can only feel so, so horrible for you. I mean, you grew up in just the worst possible conditions, and I'm so sorry you went through that, but I'm happy that you've been able to get out of that. Eight years sober, that's amazing. Just, that's amazing, great job. And I'm so happy that you've turned your life around and I hope that your mom can get better soon. And I hope everyone you knew from back then gets better as well.

And I just believe in you to keep improving your life as much as you can. And I just wish you nothing but the best. Thank you so much for sharing. On to the next one. My father has a intimate relationship with my grandmother. And I had to use intimate as an interchange, but it's the S-E-X word. Wow, that is a very interesting title. Let's get into this.

Hi, Snook. I really enjoy watching your videos and I've probably watched 90% of them, LOL. Thank you so much. I appreciate that. That means the world. I'm writing this confession to you

because I feel like you can give me some real advice on how to deal with the situation. And I haven't told anyone about this thing. So my father is 16 years older than my mother. And my grandmother, my mother's mom, is only seven years older than my father. So here's the background of the entire thing. My parents met at work and they dated for only three months before deciding to get married.

My mom was only 20 back then. One day before my parents got married, my mom wasn't home. And that time my father came over to my mom's house where she lived with my parents. At the time, my grandfather wasn't home either. So only my grandmother was at the house when my father came without any notice. I don't know what happened between them exactly. Neither does my mom know, but she said that when she got home around 5 to 6 p.m., she saw my father and grandmother were both looking very tired and sweaty.

It looked as if they were doing something really tiring. My mom asked them indirectly about what they were doing, and they said that they were just talking. My mother was too innocent to understand anything. Actually, I believe she was just not ready to accept the truth that she already knew. Later, even one of the neighbors told my mother that my father at the time, fiancé, would often visit my mother's house when my grandfather and mother weren't there. I got to know all of this when I was old enough.

My mom was still very suspicious, and even me and my siblings were, but my suspicions were proven right a year ago. My grandmother had recently bought a phone, and she is not that good with smartphones. One day she came over to our house, and I handed her my phone to man. something and I was doing exactly what she told me when suddenly I read this notification of a text that came from my father on her phone. This text read, do you want to see a picture that I had taken of you? Winky emoji, which sounded very flirty and also I've never seen my father and grandmother together alone in the same room ever. So how did he even get a picture of her? I was too surprised

that I even thought that maybe he meant to text my mom or something and accidentally sent it to my grandmother. As this was happening, my father sent another set of winking emojis and I accidentally opened the text, which resulted in him knowing that the chat was opened. So I texted him from my grandmother's phone, Hey dad, I'm fixing something on Granny's phone currently and I accidentally opened the text and he deleted his previous and text as soon as he understood that I had seen them. This confirmed mine and my mother's doubts. Though I don't have any actual evidence,

it still feels he did cheat on my mother with my grandmother. I don't know how to feel about the situation. Please, Snook, help me make my mind clear. And I don't have a lot of initial ideas because I mean, wow, this is

just a lot of pressure on me now. You just put it all on me. I don't know how to feel about the situation. But that is a very interesting, interesting, you know, scenario. Do you, I mean, yeah, it is very weird. They were seen together very tired, so that means they could have been doing something,

you know, what something is. And the winking emoji, and do you want to see the pictures I have of you, winky emoji that is very, obviously, flirtatious? I mean, there is no evidence that they were doing anything intimate. That would be wild if they were. were because that's your grandma and that's your father's, father's, oh, Jesus, that's your mother's grandma.

Yeah, that's just, I mean, I don't know how like the family dynamics works, but that is just very, very, very, very weird. I mean, the grandma isn't that much older than him, but still, regardless, it's weird. What I would do personally, if I were you, just tell your mom exactly what you say. and try not to get involved. I would not try to be a detective and try to figure it out because in all honesty, that's not really your business. That's more of your mom's business, I would say.

And maybe your dad, maybe even confront your dad about it. I don't know. I don't have great advice about this. And yeah, this is just as we kind of starstruck because this is just such a unique confession. But, yeah, I don't know. And this was sent in about a few months ago. So I'm sure the opium or the emailer

done something by now but if you are watching this please send me an email what ended up happening because yeah that's just a wild wild unique confession but everyone watching what do you guys think i don't care that my drug addict sister is homeless and may lose a limb if that makes me a bad person so be it my sister is a drug addict me 29 female her 30 female she's never had a legal prescription for opioids. She's never had an injury that would mean she needed them. I haven't spoke to her in almost a decade. My parents are still in contact with her. I'm tired of them enabling my sister and trying to get me to reestablish contact. My parents have informed me that my sister is homeless again and she is close to losing a limb. Maybe I'm a bad person,

but I don't care. They told me the drug supply in the U.S. is consistent. contaminated and it has now made its way to our province and tainted the supply. There is some kind of tranquilizer in them that makes limbs rot and die. They want to move my sister into their house and say they need my help to pay for rehab again. When she first started using drugs 11 years ago, I gave up my measly savings to help my parents pay for her stay in the rehab. I participated in family therapy. As soon as she got out, she went right back to using drugs again. She told me she would trade my life for drugs.

Oh man. After that, I cut off contact. Since then, she's been in rehab again. She's been to prison. She lies and steals. This isn't the first time she's been homeless. I don't even know the number of times she's ODed. The most insane part of this is that she's been told by multiple doctors she will lose her limb.

But she keeps on doing exactly that and doing it. it. Even the threat of losing a limb is enough to stop her from using. I told my parents I don't care and they are angry, but I also told them to never mention her to me ever again. If it makes me a bad person, so be it. She's dead to me and I'm sick of my parents enabling her. She is selfish and I want nothing to do with this. And we didn't get an update for three months from the OP. A lot of people in the comments We're trying to reassure that It's a very hard situation

And they understand whatever choice she does make Whether to help or not her sister That's what most of the comments are saying And three months later She makes an update Just a warning that some people May find this next bit to be disturbing The limb is gone

My sister had to have amputated Not long after my last post It's been almost two months since she lost the limb and she is still using drugs. Losing a limb wasn't enough of a wake-up call. She did not go to follow-up appointments and didn't go to rehab. Instead, she went to the streets and is continuing to use drugs. My parents, 55 female and 55 male,

have been letting my 29 female sister 30F stay with them because she ended up homeless again. But she would either leave to go back to the streets or bring drugs into the house. I took a step back from my parents and was low contact because they wouldn't stop asking me to help her and also to pay for her rehab again. Now I have completely stopped talking to them

because they say it's my fault. What happened to her? Wow. Multiple doctors told my sister she would lose that limb, yet she continued to do it. Somehow it's my fault, though. I was so angry when my parents said that. I had already been no contact with my sister for a long time over her drug use.

Now, it'll be the same for my parents. As far as I'm concerned, they all burn that bridge and there's no going back. I'm done with the three of them. To reiterate what I said in my last post, I don't care if not helping my sister makes me a bad person. So anyone telling me to have compassion for her can save it. Also, this wasn't a case of her having an injury and a legal prescription that was out of control. By my sister's own admission,

she started taking opioids at parties and because it was fun. Now, the drug supply in our province is tainted and the doctors warner several times what would happen if she kept doing it. Even after everything that happened, she is still using. She is the only one responsible

for what happened to her. And this is just such a sad situation. Not only did the opi lose their sister, but they also lost their parents. And I find it utterly disgusting that the parents are blaming the O.P. For what happened to her. That is so, so wrong and disgusting, in my opinion. I mean, obviously the parents are in a complete shitstorm of things going on.

I mean, I can't imagine. But for you to blame your daughter and say it's her fault for your sister's drug addiction and also it's your fault for her losing a limb, how I mean the OP outlined in the last post she spent all her savings for the first round of rehab and it didn't work

she she went through all her savings I mean that's that's that showed her love why would she do it again to herself she knows that her sister has a problem in it she's too far gone so I'm interested to see what you guys think on this do you think the OP should have compassion or not I mean

I understand what the OPE is is saying completely. And I totally understand why the OP cut off complete contact with both of them. They both don't love the sister. I mean, also, let's not forget, the OP sister said she would trade her life for drugs. That is even crazier. And so why would the OP have compassion for her sister? Because obviously her sister doesn't have compassion for her in the slightest. Obviously, she's in the deep hell of addiction, but that doesn't change what she said. And so for the O.P. to cut off contact, I have to say I understand. And let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, as a former addict, I understand this. You have to protect yourself and the addict needs to hit a bottom

in order to change. Trying to help them can just enable their addiction and prevent them from ever recovering. The sad thing is that everyone's bottom or point that makes them realize they need to change is different. Some never hit this point. and will either die or wind up in prison or both. That may be the case for your sister. I'm sure on some level you love and care for your sister. The problem is that addiction changes a person into someone else. Your sister has burned you repeatedly and isn't the same person you knew before addiction.

Don't feel bad for not loving that person, but understand that if your sister can get clean, her old self will hopefully come back. I feel for you and all the families that are not. destroyed by this terrible disease. Someone else says, I mentioned this on O.P.'s other posts, but I'm commenting it over here so people can realize just how messed up and tragic the sister's situation is. The tainted drugs O.P. mentions in her post is due to something called, um, aka Trank is an animal tranquilizer, which is being added to opioids and other drugs. If you are tempted to do an online search, but where the pictures are gruesome. This is what happened to

O.P.'s sister's limb. And then a commenter replies to when the OP said, quote, I took a step back from my parents and was low contact because they wouldn't stop ask me to help her and also to pay for a rehab again. Now I have completely stopped talking to them because they say it's my fault what happened to her. And the commenter replies saying, it sounds like your parents are inappropriate to this, make this a burden to be shifted on you, and they should have paid for her rehab and not you. Myself, I tend to not have as much compassion for addicts who took drugs due to curiosity. For entertainment fun when so many efforts have been put forth into public campaigning against doing drugs,

never mind real-life examples of addicts themselves. So yes, she's your sister, is responsible for what's happened to her. It sounds like your parents may be enabling her. Someone else says, your parents are just wanting someone to be mad at. It has to be everyone and everything else's fault that she's this bad. An addict has to want to stop, and it's obvious she doesn't want to. You paying for rehabs and saving her over and over again will do nothing. If anything, it just buys her more time. We tried everything for my mom, but her children, her family, her husband, and her friends weren't enough of a reason to stop.

Hitting rock bottom and losing everything and everyone else was not a wake-up call. Getting Hepatac, I'm not even going to try to pronounce that word, and almost dying was not enough. So I just had to step away. I won't destroy my life for someone who, doesn't care. And I think that final line in that commenter's comment, comments, sums it up pretty well. The O.P.'s sister doesn't care. Doesn't care about her sister, doesn't care about her family, doesn't care about her own personal well-being, her body, et cetera. So why would the O.P.

destroy their life and everything, just, yeah, uprooped their entire lives and just spend all their money, spend all their time, spend all their time caring for someone who doesn't love them back. So I think that final line of that final comment summed it up pretty well, but I just really, really wish the OP well. And I hope they're doing better now. And I just hope that the OP sister can recover from this addiction and turn their life around. But I guess we'll have to wait and see if we get another updates. But yeah, I just really hope this situation turns around.

Hey, Snook, just want to start off with a little note, letting you know I love your videos and love listening to them in the mornings. same as everyone else, keep me anonymous. A background on me is that I collect and pin bugs. It's been a hobby of mine for a very long time, and I love teaching others about them. I'm very confident in my identification skills, and I got too comfortable with myself. I am also high on the autism spectrum, which is where this hyperfixation likely came from. Recently, I was at a site where I was near a threatened species. I won't be saying what it is due to the location areas, the species is and isn't. However, it is a species of bugs. It is a species of bugs. And I was at a site.

butterfly. I was aware of this species and what else was out there, such as other types of flying friends. I came across a butterfly slash moth, grabbed it gently in my hands, and snapped a Google lens photo to check if I was right that it was a certain type. Google agreed with me, so I took it, put it in a kill jar, and went along with my process. It's not until a few moments ago, with me and my bad vision, notice this particular pattern only the threatened species has. I realized seconds later what I'd done and how guilty I'd felt. I was sure it was something else, but I was wrong and I feel ashamed of it. I should have known that it must have been the threatened species because it was on the land.

I don't want to tell anyone but my partner because I know I can get in serious trouble. Just need to get off my chest. And out there to people who I know can't confront me for my idiotic actions. I'm open to advice, but I'm not sure there's much I can do now about it. If the species does go extinct, I've been advised to donate this butterfly to a museum. And I will do so if this ever becomes the case. All right, that's, or just this is a really unique confession. You know, never heard or read anything like this before in the channel.

So, you know, very unique. And I'm not sure how to even approach this. Because, yeah, that's a, you know, you've got yourself in a unique. predicament. You know, no one else has really been in, but it was a mistake, it seems like. You didn't mean to, you know, kill this extinct or, you know, threatened species for your collection. It seems like a true mistake, and it really seems easy to do, especially if there is a species that's similar to that. I don't know anything about bugs, but I can see how it's a easy mistake, but then again, I would feel horrible if this butterfly does go extinct.

and I know I can contribute it to it. But that's just me. And I really don't know advice. This is just kind of my thoughts on this story. You know, advice, maybe just automatically donated to the museum, I guess. Maybe, you know, if you can do some conservation efforts in that area to maybe help out the butterfly population, I really don't know or have any good advice to add. I don't know if this is helpful to you at all.

And if anyone watching this has any sort of unique perspective or advice for them, you know, please comment down below. But thank you so much for sharing. Definitely unique. And I'm sorry I don't have great advice. But thank you. And on to the next one. Confession.

I watched my mom die and I don't know how I'm still functioning. Hi, Snook. I want to start this by saying thank you for providing a space for people to get their deepest thoughts and feelings off their chest. I often listen to your videos while I work or drive, and many of them bring me to tears. They have also inspired me to finally speak about something I haven't even talked to a therapist about yet. About a year ago now, my mom was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. I don't mean to compare cancers because all of them are bad, but pancreatic cancer is probably one of the worst types a person could ever be diagnosed with. It has a less than 13%

five-year survival rate and even lower if the cancer has already spread to other organs in the body. With my mom being above the age of 60 at the time and being stage 4, she had a less than 2% chance of surviving past five years. When she was diagnosed, she was given 6 to 12 months to live. I was devastated. I was only 21 at the time, and my mom was my best friend. She was a military veteran, having done over 20 years in the Air Force, and retired as a tech sergeant. Because of this, we thankfully didn't have to pay for anything for a treatment or hospital stay, nor for her funeral, but it didn't really matter anyways. The cancer had spread to her other organs, so surgery was not an option. And due to various other factors, chemotherapy is not working. Her body was just too weak, and she was in a lot of pain.

I wanted to keep trying to see if we could make it, at least the six-month mark, or at least until my birthday the next month in September. But about a week before she died, she made the decision. to move herself to hospice. She only lived for three weeks after her date of diagnosis. On the day she died, I sat by her bedside and held her hand as I watched her fade away, watching as her body shut down while the cancer ate away at her organs. I never cried so hard of my life. The one positive I have is that the last thing we said to each other was, I love you, the night before. She was already unresponsive by the next day, so that was the last thing I ever heard from her. Aside from watching her die right in front of me, the hardest part was watching her body slowly waste away.

She went from a somewhat chubby woman, a little over 230 pounds with no serious health complications, even at her age, to weighing just 150 pounds in over a month. She was the type of person to get up at 5 a.m. just to go on a walk around the park. But the last two months or so before she died, she could barely walk around the house without a cane or needed to lean on things. I dreaded watching her fall asleep because I was so afraid she wouldn't wake up. She died just 10 days before my birthday. And, as if it couldn't possibly get worse,

my grandma died exactly three weeks later, but my grandma was well into her 90s and had a pretty serious case of dementia, so me and my family were expecting her to pass soon. We just didn't know it would be so soon after my mom dying. Thankfully, she passed peacefully in her sleep without knowing she had just lost one of her daughters. And now to the main reason I'm even writing this.

I feel this strange sense of guilt, Not because I think her death was my fault or anything. I know it wasn't, but because for some reason, my mom's death isn't affecting me like I thought it would. Growing up, my greatest fear was my mom dying. I didn't think I could even go on living if that happened. I convinced myself that I would do be so devastated that I'd kay myself if she ever did die. And yet, here I am, 10 months later. I am functioning greatly. In all honesty, I have friends that I smile and laugh with. I have a boyfriend whom I love dearly, and I love spending time with my other family members. And yet, I still feel guilty, like her death should have affected me far more than it did.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still sad about it. I can't watch shows or movies that involve a character's mother dying. I scroll past TikToks or reels of someone fondly speaking about their mother. I have to force myself not to pay attention to Mother's Day announcements everywhere. And sometimes, I even feel jealous of all my friends and family, whose mothers are are still in their lives. My mom was my whole world. I never went more than 12 hours without speaking to her in some way, and I can find in her about everything. I wanted to grow older like her, and I have peacefully passed away in her sleep like my grandma. But I watched her die when my life

was really just getting started, and somehow, even though I never fully said any of this to anyone, I continue to live on, happily even. Yes, there are frequent nights that I cry myself to sleep, and sometimes I'll suddenly burst into tears if I get a memory of her, or if someone asks about her. Even now, I struggle to write this without crying. But even still, I can say I'm happy the majority of the time. The one-year anniversary of her death has coming up, and I'm afraid to face it.

I've lasted this long, sure, but what if something changes? What if it only takes until then to break? What if I've just been barely hanging on by a thread, and I didn't even know it? I won't know until that day happens, but I'll try to get my head up high and to remain strong. It's what my mom would have wanted. And that's really all I want to say right now.

I could say more, such as how I think medical malpractice, had a lot to do with us not knowing about the cancer sooner, but I honestly don't care about that anymore. My mom has already gone anyways, and I'd rather not get angry over a situation I'm already fully sat in by. I apologize if this was long. As I said before, I've never spoken about my feelings in such detail to anyone, not even my dad, my boyfriend, nor a therapist. And I just wanted to say thank you, Snook,

for giving me a space to get these feelings out, as I've definitely been keeping them bottled up all this time. As morbid and selfish as this sounds, one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I will never have to watch or hear about my mom dying in a horrible or gruesome way. I'll never have to experience my mom dying ever again, because I already lived through it. And if this makes it in a video, to anyone that is in a similar situation, just know that you may be stronger than you think. If they haven't passed yet, try to give your family a member

the most comfortable last days as possible. Even now, I still wish I would have told my mom I loved her more, even though I said it every day. Show them as much love as you can because one day you won't be able to. Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a better day than yesterday. I ghosted my family and fiancé

after what my sister did. I need a little advice on the matter, as I don't know what to do anymore. I was 21 when my fiancé asked me to marry him. He was the absolute light of my life. We had known each other since preschool. Our families are very close. He would come and have dinner with us on a daily basis and vice versa. He doesn't have any siblings, but I have two older sisters,

which is very important as he was also very close with them. We grew up. When we started dating, I don't think our parents stopped celebrating for weeks. He helped me deal with a lot of my anxiety, and even when I gained a little weight and my mother berated me saying he was going to leave me, he told her off and said he loved me for who I was, not for what I looked like. Even though he claimed I was the most beautiful girl in the world to him, we were only engaged for six months before the incident. My middle oldest sister. Let's call her, Nikki, was a very cold person.

She never showed any affection. She only ever opened up to my fiancé, as she said she saw him as a brother, and he also helped her through a lot of dark times, such as battling drug addictions and breaking the law. She and I never saw eye to eye. I loved her dearly because she was my sister, but I didn't like her as a person. Out of the blue, she tells me she wants to take me clubbing as we had a little. never been together before and she felt bad that she was so distanced to me. I agreed and that night we went out. Clubbing wasn't really my style but once I had a few drinks I loosened up a little

and began having fun. The night was going smoothly until Nikki spotted a guy across the room who she claimed she wanted to climb like a tree. She walked over to him and within a few minutes she was back and she had a sour expression on her face. I asked her what was up, but she never said anything. I kept pressing because I didn't want her night to be ruined. She then told me the guy didn't want her number, but he wanted mine instead. I told her he was a loser, and there were plenty of guys around who would kill to be with a girl like her. She didn't budge, though.

She told me she needed to use the restroom, and then we would leave. waited for over an hour. During this time, I was sipping on a lot of different cocktails. I then started feeling really dizzy and lightheaded. I figured I'd just cab at home as I was certain Nikki had left. On the way out, though, I bumped into a friend of Nicky's whom she had briefly dated. He asked me if I needed a hand in my car, and I explained I was getting a cab. He said he was getting ready to leave, and we could share one. I told him, okay, and we walked out of the club together, and into the first cab we saw. I tried to find my phone in my purse,

but I felt myself getting dizzier and dizzier. I don't remember what happened next as I blacked out, and the next morning I woke up on a hard sofa, my head pounding. When I came to, I realized I was in Nicky's friend's house and my phone was sitting on the glass table in front of me, but it was flat. When he noticed I was awake,

he offered some tablets and water, and explained that, I'd passed out in the cab, and he didn't remember my parents' address, so he just picked me up and took me back here where he laid me on the sofa. I told him I needed to go home as my fiancé would be worried. He called the cab, and I left. When I arrived at my parents' house, my mother, father, my fiancé, and his parents were all standing in the living room. I thought they were worried about me, but the instant I opened my mouth, my fiancé asked, how could I do this to him?

I tried to explain that my phone went flat, but he then went on screaming about, how could I cheat on him? I was baffled. Why would he think that? I tried to explain the night's events, but I kept getting cut off. Nikki then chimed in and said I was a line,

and how could I be so heartless to a man who has been there for me through thick and thin? She went on to say I kept flirting with random guys all night, and then when she went to the bathroom, she saw me leave with her friend. I told her what had happened, and she showed me photos on her phone, where, as we were leaving, his hand was on my back, ushering me outside. Yes, the photo did look horrible, and I was so drunk, I didn't even realize his hand was on my back at all.

My fiancé was so angry. He kept shouting, and his mom and mine were both crying. I then asked Nikki to call her friend, and he would confirm nothing happened, but when she called him, he told a completely different story. He said I begged him to take me back to his, and when he did, we slept together multiple times. I saw Red and started crying and yelling at Nikki because I knew she had organized this whole thing to make me look bad. I begged my fiancé to believe me, but he just shook his head and left. When everyone had cleared out, my mother slapped me across the face and told me to get out.

I left and went to a friend's house where I stayed for a few nights. During those nights I called my fiancé crying and pleading with him to believe me that nothing happened, but it all fell on deaf ears as he never returned to any of my calls or texts. My mom texted me and told me she was kicking me out and that she couldn't believe I would do such a thing and a lot of hurtful other slurs I don't think I could even repeat here. She didn't even give me time to get my things as she threw her. everything out. I was now homeless. None of my family would take me in as they chose my fiance and mother's side. I was homeless and single in less than a day and a half. My entire world had been

taken away because of Nikki's lies. Now for weeks, I tried everything to get my fiancé back in my family. The limit for me, though, was when Christmas time had come and I went over to my mother's house to try and reconcile. I was sleeping from couch to couch during this time. When I got to my parents' house, I knocked on the door, but no one answered. My friend then called me and told me she just saw on Facebook that my family were in another state celebrating Christmas, and they had posted pictures online. Everyone was there. My sisters, parents, grandparents, and even my fiancee and his family. When I myself saw the photos, I couldn't stop crying as they all look so. happy. I cried for days and days before deciding to block them all. I even returned my engagement

ring. My friend knew someone a couple hours away who was looking for some help in his restaurant, and he even had leaving arrangements above where he worked so I could even rent cheap and work at the same time. I wanted to start over with my life, as it hurt me that no one took my side, and they all left me to fend for myself. I was able to move pretty quickly. I was able to move pretty quickly. and was doing well. The apartment was tiny and I had to work 10 plus hours almost every day

but I was able to save a lot of money. I'm not living in the apartment anymore. I was able to rent a much nicer condo but I'm still working at the restaurant as assistant manager. Now it has been roughly two years since I left and have not spoken to any of my family. I have no idea what it's going on with them

until I got a knock on my door. It was my ex-fiance. I was shocked to say the least. All these feelings came rushing back, and all I wanted to do was jump into his arms. But then I remembered the pain I had felt and tried to slam the door in his face, but he stopped it and asked that I let him explain. He said that Nikki had gotten married, and she had confessed that she lied about the situation because she had found someone she loved so much and realized what a horrible thing she had done.

I asked him how he found me, and he said my friend told him. my entire family have been trying to get in touch with me and wanted to see me. I told him I needed time to see if I even wanted to have them in my life. He left and I've been a mess since. I don't know what to do. I know I will never ever forgive Nikki. She could rot for all I cared, but it's hard because my other family and fiancé didn't know she was lying. But I also felt like they abandoned me too quickly without letting me explain my side.

I don't know if I should forgive them. Any advice would be much helpful. Thank you for taking the time to read. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, Frankly, I do not think I can forgive your ex-fiancee or your family for abandoning you so quickly based on an incident that didn't even occur. It's all well and good for them to be sorry,

but they didn't even have to completely reinvent themselves on their own the way you did. I would it be quick to forgive or to forget. And then someone else says, You deserve an amazing life and you need to think carefully about the family and fiancé who dropped you so quickly. Plus, your sister is a psychopath, and that's me being polite.

She puts you in such a position of danger for her own gain and destroyed your life. I can't believe also, given her past that your parents would side with her on this. Someone else says, I'm petty AF and I would request a meeting with the family and sister's husband and in front of him I would tell him how she drugged you and gave to you a stranger to do whatever while you were drugged. How even after making you homeless, jobless, supportless, she still let that go on for years and

enjoyed Christmas while not knowing if you were in a ditch somewhere. Blow up her life. Also, you don't owe them anything. They are all. horrible people and then a few days later the opi makes an update to this entire situation and the update reads as follows wow guys I don't even know where to begin I'm honestly so grateful for all the support advice beautiful messages and awards you guys have gifted I wish I could personally thank each and every one of you and I did my best to reply to every message you guys are honestly so amazing and I cried reading all the comments. My heart has never been so touched with the amount of love and support I got on this post,

and I am so sorry if I took too long to post an update. I was honestly in so much shock I didn't know how to cope with it. So I never got back with my ex. I didn't know what to do, but eventually he must have given my phone number to an parent as they texted asking to meet up. I never replied. It was planning on organizing a Zoom meeting, but didn't need to as they also showed up at my door. Well, my father did. When I answered the door and saw him standing there, I ended up throwing up, which he insisted on cleaning. When he was done, we sat down, and I just bursted into tears. My emotions were all over the place, and my father has worn the same clone for a really long time, so when I smelt it, it just brought back all those memories. He tried to

hug me, but I pushed him away and asked him what he was doing here. He went on to explain he and my mother are getting a divorce. He said he begged my mother to get in touch with me the minute I left, but she refused and said I was acting like a baby, and if I wanted to leave them after doing something so horrible, then I could do things on my own from then on. I asked him how long did it take for them to notice I was gone. He said they arrived back home after New Year's Eve and were planning on invited me over so we could talk. That's when they got in touch with my friend, and she told them I left,

and she didn't know where I was. I asked him why didn't he listen to my side of the story, and why did they throw me away so easily? He just started crying. He said he never meant for the things to get so out of hand, and he wishes more than anything he could take it all back. I said when they found out Nikki was taking drugs, and it dropped out of high school,

they didn't throw her away. Instead, we all went on a holiday so she could focus on things besides drugs, and during that trip, she got hooked on alcohol, and each time they defended her over and over. He said he had no idea my mother was going to kick me out. He thought it was going to be for a few days, but then they decided last minute to spend Christmas out of state. My mother apparently promised him I would be allowed back home after they got back. I said she threw all away my stuff, but he said everything was still there, and she lied about that. I asked him what has happened to Nikki, and he said she is dead to him. He wants nothing to do with her, but my mother has been crying to him,

asking to forgive Nikki as she is not well, and they had already lost one daughter. They cannot lose two. He blocked my mother and Nikki and has been on my ex's case about finding me. My ex caved in when my dad said he blocked my mother and Nikki and told him where I lived. I asked that he never show up again unless I gave him permission. and he agreed. He asked what would happen now, and I said I really don't know,

and that he hurt me so badly. I then just went into detail about how much he hurt me and what it felt like seeing them so happy without me and how hard it has been. We were both crying by the end of it, but I was really glad I got it all out. It felt like a huge weight to have been lifted off my shoulders. My dad then said he knew a few places around the area,

and it would help get me a better apartment, and he would then help me get a better job, but I told him I wouldn't be leaving this job as my boss helped me out so much and I wanted to repay him at all costs. I said I didn't want it to do anything for me, but I said I do want to reconcile, but it has to be on my own terms

and it is going to take a very, very long time to trust him again, and I may never trust him again. He said he would do anything to make up for what he did. I asked him why Nikki did, this and if she said anything about it while she said she thought my ex deserved better than me and she wanted to see him happy because he was making too many sacrifices in the relationship she loved him like a brother and wanted to break the engagement off so that night she asked her friend

to come and escort me out of the club so she could get photos and to take me home so her plan could work she said nothing intimate happened i went to sleep on the sofa and that was it he was up playing video games all night until I woke up, which he has proof of, apparently. My dad was planning on getting my stuff from my mother's house and bringing it to me, but I told him I didn't want those things anymore. I then went to ask about Nikki's husband, and he said my mother has been hush-hush with the entire situation, but he had his number and wrote it down for me. After my dad left, I decided to call Nikki's husband. I was sweating the entire time and felt so sick. What if I could hear her in the background? Well, anyhow, when he picked up, I just

spit everything out, which I deeply regret because I should have eased into it for him. He sounded really confused and I explained the entire situation again. I even went into detail about her drug and alcohol problems. I was honestly expecting him to curse me out and defend Nikki. Instead, he let out a long sigh. And, well, turns out, he had a few. He had a few. He had a few. feeling she wasn't exactly innocent. Turns out her and his sister had been having problems, and she has been spouting nonstop lies about his sister and has caused a huge rift between them. His sister didn't even attend their wedding. I told him I was sorry, but he should make things right with his sister because Nikki was the problem, not her. We spoke a little more, and he hung up.

I'm not entirely sure what he is going to do with that information. I hope he cuts his losses and leaves her because he sounded like a really nice person, and even he has lost his own sister because of Nikki. So I've decided to reconcile with my dad. My mother has always run the show, their entire marriage, so the fact he is putting his foot down and divorcing her and going and see with Nikki shows he is serious about wanting to make amends. I don't think I will ever reconcile with my mother. Now, she thinks Nikki is a victim also in all of this, and at this point I don't care to listen to her excuses. If she reaches out and we can talk, I will update the post again. For my ex, I haven't had the time to meet with him and talk. Though my dad mentioned he wanted

to come with his dad, but he told him I would be too overwhelmed if both were there and seeing them separated will make more clear decisions. He also mentioned my ex was arrested for assaulting Nikki's friend who lied about the entire situation. He was being charged, but the charges were dropped a few days later. I will update the post again, but when I have time to speak to my ex. Thank you guys for being so patient and so caring and just so amazing. And that is actually the last update we have ever received on the situation, and the OP has never made a third update.

But let's get into some comments. Someone says, So this means your sister literally drugged you just to break your relationship up? The way you were passing out at the club isn't normal. What about your other sister? Someone else commented saying, It might be a lot of hoops to jump through, but I would seriously consider

if any charges could be brought against your sister and her friend. They drugged you. They caused you extreme emotional turmoil, but I totally understand O.P. If you just want to wash your hands of them and not reopen old wounds. Someone else says,

it's actually very carmaic that you may have cost Nikki the relationship with the man she professes to love after she did the same to you. At least in your case, it was an act of charity. That poor guy definitely deserves better. Hey, Snook, how's it going?

I've been watching your videos a lot lately while I work. They've honestly helped me stay focused and feel less alone. I saw your community post and, for the first time ever, decided to share something I've never told anyone. This is a personal story, and I know you'll take care to blur or skip anything that needs to be toned down for YouTube. So thank you for creating that. space. I'm 19 now, but this started when I was around 10 or 11. Some new neighbors moved in,

three boys around my age. I became friends with the two younger ones, but the oldest one, let's call him N, always felt different. We didn't talk much at first, but that eventually changed. At first, everything was normal. We'd hang out, play outside, have bonfires. It felt like a good childhood, but then things slowly started to shift. One night, we played a version of a typical sleepover game, and that's when N crossed a gap boundary. I didn't really understand what was happening. I was just a kid. I thought it was part of the game, but it wasn't.

It left me confused and honestly, scared. After that, N started finding ways to isolate me. During games, sleepovers, he would always find moments to make me uncomfortable. It went on for a long time, and I kept it all inside. I didn't tell anyone. I felt like I couldn't. That silence weighed on me. I started struggling mentally and emotionally.

I even had a moment where my mom noticed something was wrong, just from the mood of my Instagram name, but I told her I was fine. I didn't have the words to explain it, even if I wanted to. Eventually, everything came to a head. One night something almost happened again, but my older brother walked in. That moment stopped everything.

That was the last time, but even after that, things didn't magically get better and started spreading rumors and flipping the story. suddenly people around me, including some family, believed I was the one in the wrong. I became the outcast. I felt blamed. I slid and lost. Even simple games like hide and seek, somehow.

I was always the seeker. I was always the joke. The one left behind. It's taken me years to even write this down, and I still don't know if I'm fully healed. By telling this here, sharing it with you, makes me feel a little lighter, like I'm not carrying it completely alone anymore. It was the lowest point in my life, but somehow I got through it. I made new friends. One of them, a girl named M, really helped me start feeling like myself again. Today I'm in a way better place. I've been working out for two years. I've got an amazing job,

a solid group of friends, and I'm streaming and making videos, doing what I love. There are still tough days, but I'm learning to take it one step at a time. And as for N, I've forgiven him. Not to his face, but in my heart, not because it was okay because I needed to let it go, and it wouldn't keep controlling me. Thank you for listening, Snook. I've got more stories, but this one was a heavy one. I hope it helps someone else find out there feel a little less alone. And to anyone watching, take care of yourself. You're stronger than you think. And thank you again, Snook. Keep doing what you're doing. You've got no idea how much it helps. Thank you so much for those kind of words. It really means a lot. I mean, at the beginning of your story and at the end, I really,

really appreciate those kind of words. It means a toned. And just by the way, guys, I did tone down the story because it's just, it wouldn't do good on YouTube. YouTube wouldn't like it. that probably cross some sort of community guideline. But you guys get the gist of the story. Really sad, disturbing. And thank you so much for sharing. Thank you for being open. And yeah, hopefully it really helps someone out there

who's watching. If any of you are watching and relate to this, you're not alone. And if you take one moral from all the stories we've read so far, and we've read like not so many, four or five, but the people who get better, talk to someone. That is the common denominator for all of these. Don't carry your hardships alone. Please don't. Talk to someone. Email me. Do anything. Don't be alone. Someone's always there. In the entire world, you can talk to someone. You're not alone. People go

through hardship, and you got it. And I really appreciate those kind words at the end. And I completely agree with and to anyone watching take care of yourself you're stronger than you think you guys are all stronger than anything you can get through anything you want just put your mind to it you can do it you can get over anything any obstacle you can get over you guys are amazing and uh yeah just common denominator from all of this story so far don't carry this shit alone talk to somebody thank you so much for your submission and on to the next one hey snook english is my first language i'm just using text speech through headphones, so sorry if anything sounds a little off. This happened back in the summer of 2011. My friends and I had been riding dirt bikes pretty much every day. And one day, we found this abandoned

area full of hills. It looked like a perfect place to ride, so we all agreed to meet up there. I kicked up my YZ 125 and headed it out. On the way there, I nearly crashed into this massive hole. Not just a ditch or a little drop, it was maybe 20 to 30 feet deep, just randomly in the middle of the area with nothing around it. I managed to avoid it, but it definitely freaked me out. Once we got to the hills, a lot of my friends realized they didn't fill their gas tanks, so we decided to head back to my place. There were about 10 of us in total. I was second to last in the group. As we passed by that hole again, all of us saw it, but only nine of us made it back.

friend, who I'll keep anonymous, fell into the hole. We panicked. None of us had phones. We didn't know what to do. We didn't want to make things worse, so we started moving dirt and covering the hole to keep them from being exposed until we could figure out how to get them out safely. Then we raced back to my house and grabbed whatever we could get. Rope, tape, extra clothes, even some food. We also brought a ladder. We lowered the ladder down, and I tied the rope around both of us. He was trapped in my back. And together we slowly climbed up. He was alive, but in bad shape. Three broken ribs, a shattered arm with bones sticking out, and a leg completely snapped in half. And here's where this becomes a confession. Instead of calling for help, we tried to fix him

ourselves. We thought we'd get in trouble. We tried to clean him up and make it look like it wasn't as bad as it really was. After hours of trying to stabilize them, we'd be in the same. We'd told his parents we had just tried to jump over the hole and missed. They rushed him to the ER, but he didn't make it. They said he passed away from complications we didn't fully understand. To this day, I can't help but wonder, if I had ridden at the very back instead of in front of him, would it have been me and would he still be alive? Thank you so much for, you know, send in in the story. And I really hope you don't feel guilty over this because obviously you're a kid, a terrifying situation, a situation, you know, no one should be put in, obviously. But I really,

I don't know if you are blaming yourself, but I don't think you should at all. It was just a horrible situation. I've been in scary situations with my friends on bikes and they get hurt. It's terrifying. You panic. You don't know what to do. And I've been in that situation before. you know, it's so easy to chastise and criticize people in, you know, panicky situations from the outside in. But when you're in, it's impossible to make those smart, thought out decisions. And you're a kid with no phone. What are you supposed to do? You did the best thing you thought you could have done. You and your friends thought you were doing the right thing. And I really, you know, can't blame you because I don't know if I would have made a different decision.

I think I would have done the same thing. That was a horrible. incident, just a horrible, you know, crash, tragedy that happened to your poor friend. And, you know, eventually got to the ER, but who knows what would have happened. I really don't think you should blame yourself. And who knows what would have happened if you wrote in the back instead of him. I mean, you could do what ifs all day. But whatever happened happened, obviously. And I really don't think you should, you know, blame yourself. Thank you for sharing. and I really don't think this is even a confession. I don't think you should blame yourself all these years later.

But yeah, thank you so much for sharing. On to the next one. I killed a baby duck. Hey, Snook, I'm a new watcher and enjoy your anonymous confessions and decided to try and get something off my chest. When I was younger, in my teen years, about 15 to 16 years old, me and my sibling would always often go out from our apartment and walk around the neighborhood hood.

We would frequently go to the pool or have a stroll while taking the trash out, or even go near our big pond that occasionally has ducks and other creatures. There was a particular day where me and my sibling stumbled upon a mother duck, who just had babies and was caring for them. We would have sometimes tried and go touch the baby duck or get close, but we would never do anything like that until a certain day. Me and my sibling went outside to go play basketball in one of the small courts near the pond, just for fun.

But on our way to enter the court, we saw the mama duck, but she was alone with only one baby duck. We were kind of worried, wondering what had happened to the babies and actually looked around for them. We eventually found them, but they had already passed away. It had looked like some kind of animal, I guess, ripped them to shreds. We had cats in our neighborhood, so it wasn't really a shocker on what could have killed them. Stupidly, I, for some unknown reason, was so upset and assumed that the last living baby duck wouldn't survive on its own. Now, I want to clarify that I, back in my younger years, was not doing so well mentally. I was going through quite a lot in those times and wasn't so riding the head.

I have been, and for many years now, still deeply regret my decision on this and wished I could have stopped myself from ever doing this. I do not accept these actions whatsoever and do not support them. So, when me and my siblings saw that one baby duck was raining, I somehow managed to catch it. And me and my sibling held it and pet it, the mama duck, however, went in the pond and seemed to get a good distance away from us after we managed to capture her last baby. We were in the court, playing and petting it, when all of a sudden, I had the thought that this baby duck would have died anyways, it would never survive, and went on impulse to take it and slam it onto the courtyard ground.

I had done it a couple times to make sure it was dead and began crying after that happened. I actually tried to bring it back to life after that situation happened, but it made things worse. My sibling tried to comfort me and tell me it was okay, that it was just an accident. I was tremendously horrified at what I had done. It was just sitting in the court bawling my eyes out after that scene. My sibling knew what had happened and wanted to assure me that it would be okay and we could bury the baby duck and tell nobody about it. Ever since that day, I've actually had gotten self-control on impulses like that since

I had a history of herding animals but then feeling horrible and crying afterwards. I have tried to accept the fact that I cannot turn back time, but the guilt of all these things I've done when I was younger hangs heavy, and I deeply feel remorse for the animals I have caused harm to and wish I wasn't that way long ago. I am now 19. Becoming the age of 20, I have gotten better as time went on. Sorry for the long story. Thanks for reading. I have murderous tendencies to everyone I love.

Hi, Snook, as you read on the title, this might be a little. little heavy. I would like it if you can keep me anonymous, but I know you'll do that anyways. If this gets featured in a video, it would be much appreciated since I maybe want others' feedback, too. I am also sorry if my writing is a bit choppy. I am a transgender boy, female to male. That is a bit relevant to this confession. My parents are okay people. I'm not very close with my dad, but I still love him. The reason I'm not close with him is because he's very bigoted and always says I'll burn in hell for my actions. It took me a long, long time. I'm not very much. to get that out of my mindset. My mom is my favorite, and I do most of the things in my life with her.

This doesn't make me not want to hurt her. I think about it a lot, mostly at night. I think about how satisfying it would feel to slip my dad's throat and watch as he bleeds out on the floor. I think about how good it would feel to get revenge for all the terrible things he put me through. From my mom, I think about making art out of her body once I'm done with her, carving her into something amazing. I would never do any of this to them, since I love them dearly and can't imagine a world without them. But it doesn't stop the thoughts from prevailing against all odds. I feel very guilty for the way I think, but I can't help myself. I don't have anyone to talk to, and I've been to multiple mental hospitals before for unrelated things. I've had multiple attempts on my life done by

myself. I have a S-H addiction. Those are other things I want to confess. All in all, thank you if you read this confession. I'll understand if you don't put it in a video, and I really don't think you will. I love watching your videos while I do other things. And okay, I really think you should talk to somebody, a therapist, a counselor some sort. You know, it seems like you have, you know, a lot going on. And that's okay. But it's not the best to, you know, carry it all by yourself, especially thoughts like those. Those are not positive thoughts in the, you know, slightest.

And so if you want, if you're comfortable, I really feel like you should talk to somebody about these thoughts. And hopefully someone more professional can get you on the right choice. You know, I believe you can get better, but from what you just outlined doesn't sound so great or positive. So, you know, please talk to somebody. It would help you so much. And hopefully this advice is enough. If anyone else is watching and been in a similar situation like this, please comment down below.

Any sort of, you know, feedback or advice you've had for them, I'm sure they would greatly, greatly appreciate it. My mom and sister starved themselves to death because of my mom's psychosis. And I have to deal with the aftermath. In 2020, my mom and sister died together in a locked apartment, along with my mom's friend. They didn't die in an accident or from illness. They starved themselves to death. Together in the middle of summer.

My mother had developed paranoid schizophrenia, but the diagnosis came post-mortem on my request, in desperation to get some answers. She believed my father was trying to harm them and isolated herself and my sister from everyone. For one and a half years, they lived in fear, completely cut off. She also believed they could survive without food and water by absorbing energy from the universe. Her mental illness spiraled into something so extreme, she convinced my sister to follow her. And she did. They were found about five days after death, but the police had no exact day of their deaths because, of course, they did not die at the same time, but hours or days from one another. Three bodies, actually.

My mother, my sister, and a delusional friend of hers who died with them. By the time they were discovered, they were in such a decal case. composed state that the police couldn't even identify which body was whose, not even by hair. That's how bad it was. We had to run DNA testing, dental records, three dead bodies in the heat, locked in, door barricaded, that wasn't there. But my mind was and still is. I've never read the police reports.

I've never visited the place where their ashes are. I still can't believe they're gone. and I feel this weird, almost sick obsession with the grotesque details, the smell, the state of their bodies, what the forensic team saw. Sometimes I Google crime scenes or more cases because my mind is stuck there. I imagine what it looked like. I can't stop imagining it. I've built a life, I've run my own business, I've survived, but I triggered by things like rotting fruit, the smell, the texture.

It all sends my body into a panic. People ask me about my family and I smile and lie. They joke about crazy people and I laugh along. I've never told my clients. I've never written this down before, but it lives in me. I feel guilty for not saving them. For the trauma the police and forensic workers had to endure. For my sister, who was 29,

and could have walked away, but didn't. And sometimes I just feel nothing, just this heavy silence. If anyone else out there has lived through the same kind of trauma, you can't put it into words, if you've ever wanted to scream and vanish and be held all at once, I see you. Thank you for reading this. I don't know what I want from it. Maybe just did not hold it alone anymore. And then the OP makes an edit saying,

posting this has been one of the most healing things in my grieving process. I had no idea it would be such a relief to be able to share my story and getting so much support. It hurts that some people might not believe that the story is true. Maybe it just shows how horrible the events were and how it must be hard for anyone to process the case. Trust me on this. The police were so empathetic and equally shocked that something like this can find place.

There's no way anyone could have prevented this during the pandemic. Also, yes, I got help from AI to put into words. What happened to me and my feelings, don't blame me for that. Thank you so, so much for all your kind words in sharing your stories. I hope this post will be a safe space for us to share in Benton and be a memory of my loved ones who don't suffer anymore. I have read every single comment of yours. Edit 2.

One of the most healing things for me after posting this was, I have finally found peace finding out that there is an actual concept of Folly de du, which is a shared madness or shared delusion. Even if only one person is suffering from actual paranoia and psychosis, it can spread on to others under right in unfortunate conditions. It makes me stop questioning things and finally finding peace with how and what happened. Thank you very much to those who brought this up to clarify and help me answer the biggest questions of them all. Why?

Someday I'm going to commit S word. It's hard to put all my thoughts into words that people can understand. I've tried before and I'll try again. It starts with my parents. It's nothing they've done, but I really resent them for giving birth to me. My mom has terrible anxiety, and I'm sure you can guess which child got it passed down to them. But it's not a typical I'm afraid to go talk to someone, or the I'm afraid of a job interview kind of anxiety. I genuinely cannot textualize how much I hate people who say I have anxiety.

Then I see them out with friends, going to stores, this and that. I can't do mundane things like walk outside because I'm afraid people will look at me. When I first moved to college, I was stuck eating out of the Make Your Own Salad section because I was too afraid to go tell the lunch staff what I wanted. Things like walking into a store I've never been into before makes me sweaty. It gets my heart beating abnormally fast. and I even get faint sometimes. Every time I have to go outside for things, like class or dinner, I see people with other people,

and I hate it. It's a constant reminder that I can't do anything with people, or really anything of that matter. I have no one, no dormite, no one to eat with, no one to do really anything with. I have one friend up here that I've known for my whole life, but even then, I'm too afraid to send them a text asking if they want to do something. someday he and I are going to dwindle in our friendship together because I seem uninterested when I really am not. The biggest kicker is talking to people about it. I hear all the time in your videos to talk to someone, like a therapist or medical professional. I have. I've been to two therapists and a doctor before.

I truly have gone nowhere. Every single person I talked to doesn't understand me and I gave up trying. Every time I leave a therapy session, or the doctor's office, I leave feeling terrible that they couldn't understand me and wonder where I went wrong trying to describe my issues. Truth is, I'm done. I don't care about anyone understanding me anymore, and I'm ready to leave it all behind. I obviously haven't yet, but I know someday I'm just going to snap and do it. But I feel like that's okay, you know. People always fear death, but we really shouldn't. I'm not religious and I'm not scared of what happens after death. and there's no reason to be fearful. We won't know we're dead.

If it wasn't for the people I'd hurt and the aged by a weapon in my state, I would have done it already. I've had enough of the fake I understand, you will get better, or you're doing all right. I don't know when it will be, but if things don't change, I will not see 21. And this one was a heavy one.

I don't have a ton to say since you said you've talked to therapists, you've talked to medical professionals, but I really think you should, I don't know, you know, practice meditation, mindfulness. I think something like meditation and mindfulness, I, you know, used to have anxiety, still kind of do a little bit, but, you know, just sitting there for a few minutes a day with your eyes closed, trying to, you know, imagine nothing almost. It just really helps breathe breathe, you don't need somebody, you don't seem to want a therapist or it doesn't, you know, but things take time. A therapist or a medical professional won't get it right the first time. They're just people too. And so I really think you should, you know, stay consistent with therapy,

stay consistent with, you know, visiting your doctor, talking to your doctor, trying to outline all your issues. You know, I think a mix of meditation, mindfulness, just trying to, you know, have patience for the therapist. I think they can help you out. That's all they want to do. And so please just keep going. Please keep going. Just take it a day at a time. And that's what I say to everybody. just say today I will try my best to, you know, make today a great day, whether that's talking to a therapist, trying to, you know, get them to understand you a bit better, spending an extra minute, meditating, breathing, trying to relax. You know, maybe you've heard all this before and you're just going to ride it off, but that's up to you. I really believe you can get better. Things do get

better. But having an attitude that things won't get better, then they won't get better. You have to try and slowly build that attitude up, turn it around because things can get better. There's countless, countless, countless people who have been in the exact same position as you, and now they're doing fine. It just takes time and it sucks. It definitely does suck, but you can definitely get out of this rut. And I just believe that, you know, spend time breathing, relaxing, doing things you love. And then slowly, day after day, do something new, talk to a new person, go to a new store, like you said. It'll take time. I'm not saying this will happen after a day or even a week or even a month or even a year.

This will take a long time, but I believe in you. And just, you know, trying to, you know, end it, so to say, is not the answer. It's never the answer. And I hope you're watching it at the end. I didn't mean to put this at the end of the video. You know, I just usually have these all listed out in no specific order, but I believe in you. And everyone watching the video believes in you. I please, just, you know, a day at a time, just keep going. Something will change. And don't just say, I'll never be better. Just focus on today and then tomorrow. And then the day that's ahead of you or the day that's in front of you. You've got this. You matter more than you know and more people love you than you know. And I believe in you. Everybody watching this believes in

you. Everyone watching, please give, you know, some kindness or advice if you've dealt with anything similar. I'm sure they'd appreciate it a lot right now. Everybody loves you. You've got this. I believe in you. Much love. Hi, Snook. I listened to one of your confession videos and heard about a user who had a terrible weed experience and thought I would share mine as a cautionary tale. About a year ago, I had taken interest in trying an edible and had a great time with friends. Small dose of a few milligrams and loved the freedom it gave me from my anxiety. Because I had a positive experience, I would of course try it again, this time with my partner trip sitting. The problem is, I completely misdosed and took a lot more at once, something you should never do as someone

new to weed slash edibles, especially for my weight. I'm a fairly thin woman. Everything was good until my vision started to distort, and I started screaming that I was going to die. At this point, everything began to separate, like what I was seeing was a different reality than my mind, and my thoughts felt as if they were repeating in a constant loop. My partner, not aware that I had misdosed, tried to do his best to calm me down, as I was either completely non-responsive or screaming for help as I was thoroughly convinced I was overdosing and needed to go to the hospital. Looking back now, it was clearly a weed-induced panic attack. We did end up going to the ER where they gave me a strong anxiety slash sedative medication, and I woke up a day later, almost

completely fine physically and mentally, or something. so I thought. That's where the second trip happened due to my inflated confidence that the same problem could not happen again. So I took, um, you know, a medium dose. This was the nail in the coffin, as I would proceed to have all of the problems I did last time. Thoughts looping, panic that something isn't right, disassociating, as well as the new fear that I was going to enter back into the mental death spiral I had went into during my last bad trip. This time, however, I would have no medical sedatives to knock me out until the T.HC was out of my system, which meant having to fight off having a panic attack for an entire day while also fearing I was losing my mind. I obviously came down,

but a part of me was definitely lost after the second bad trip. First, I now unlocked panic attacks, which I had never had now before, despite my GAD. I get them at night, sometimes even having them in my dreams. I'll usually censored around losing my mind or feeling as if I'm losing my grasp on what is real. Second, I have become very fearful of those on drugs, including alcohol, which has been a bummer for my partner, as he does like an occasional drink. Third, I have had disassociated phases almost every day, completely losing myself and my surroundings for at least a couple minutes. I feel so stupid letting this happen to myself, as it was entirely my fault that I missedosed and then chose to be a fucking idiot the second time. It's been about a year now,

and I still don't feel like my old self, and I fear I have legitimately tried to be a commentize myself all because of an edible. I also feel guilty for the trauma I have caused for those around me, especially my partner, as he told me that he could still hear my screams of genuine fear as I pleaded for my life in my drug state. While I have recovered mostly from my initial trauma, it has made my anxiety so much worse, and I wish it could go back and never touch the stuff. While this all seems dramatic, especially only for something deemed tame like weed, it genuinely happened to me, and that drug can do way more damage than people. give it credit for if misused. If you suffer from anxiety or take SSRIs, please, please do your

research before trying to take an edible or dabbling this sort of stuff. I didn't and paid the price for making my otherwise happy life worse permanently. While it was good that I found out I shouldn't take drugs with something tame like THC, it still has done irreversible damage to my psyche. If you do drugs, please research the right dose. Know your mental stability, your medication, and if it conflicts with the drug and be with trusted people, or else you might pay like I did. And thank you so much for sharing. And weed in general is a very hot topic issue.

And I'd like to kind of share because, you know, I've had a fair share of friends go through the same things. I myself have never partaken in the consumption of weed or edibles, but I have had many friends kind of go through certain things, similar to this. And I feel like people do not give weed the respect it has and they just treat it as something frivolous. Like it's very light. It's a light drug. But it really can mess with your head and cause long lasting mental issues. It can stir up, you know, stir up, you know, hidden mental issues such as schizophrenia. It can cause psychosis. I'm not anti-weed, but I think people really need to

educate themselves before trying something like it. You know, I don't care if you do do it, but I, if you are going to do it, please, please, you know, educate yourself because if you are caught in a state like the person who's just shared this confession, you might be caught in a similar bus, where they can really, really mess with your psyche for a long, long time. And I can't remember this off my top of the head, but I think, you know, for the, the person who shared the story, if you're still listening, weed, when it messes with your head, it will last a long time, but it's not forever.

So, you know, don't kind of get into a negative spiral that, you know, oh, I'm screwed up forever because it's probably not. You might want to get a therapist or someone to help get you out of that mental kind of jail, so to say, where you feel different. You know, a lot of therapists specialize and stuff like that. So I'm sure you can get help. It sucks, but, Yeah, everyone out there, if you're watching,

please do your research before doing something similar to that because, yeah, messing with your psyche, messing with your mental health, or messing with your mental stability, or just any of that stuff is not something to tamper with in any way, shape, or form. So please, please do your research and be safe out there.

On to the next one. I found my wife's body in the closet yesterday. Pretty self-explanatory. I left for work at 9 the night before, Got off early since it was my weekend and went upstairs to find she'd committed S word from our closet door and a rope. She suffered from mental health issues most of her life, and I guess I knew this might happen one day, but I didn't think it would be yesterday. The police came and went. We're sorry for your loss.

Some friends came and picked me up. I'll be staying in the guest room for a bit, I guess. my family came to pick up my son. He'll be three in April. My sister-in-law is going to look after him, so at least I'll have his cousins to play with him. I had to comfort her mother, who blames herself. I had to call my job to tell him that I needed some time. I had to call estranged friends, having them disseminate to others I couldn't reach, got drunk, took an Ambien, slept, went to the car wash with a friend, stayed there until 3 a.m., watched Space Jam when I got back, talked to my dead wife in the rain. It's been a roller coaster of tears and laughter and silence,

and I have so many questions that can wait. The weirdest thing is, though, I'm feeling intensely aroused, and I'm having trouble fall in asleep. Normally, I jerk it to help myself drift off. and believe me i want to but i don't think i can looking at adult videos seems disrespectful and i can't close my eyes without seeing her so here i am wide awake spilling my guts into the void yesterday was the worst day of my life and i'm worried about jerking it god help me edit i just wanted to say how grateful i am for everyone who reached out this morning I want to say so much more, but everything I type looks wrong. My son and I will be okay.

My wife is in no more pain. I have the most wonderful group of people sitting in this room with me right now. I'm not angry. Not with my wife, anyhow. I'm angry with her disease, but I couldn't have asked the girl I married to go on hurting anymore. If you or someone you know is suffering from mental health problems, let someone know.

Let someone try. Fight like hell. Kiss your wife when you leave for work. Confession. I faked my disability for years. Okay, hi, Snook. First thing I want to say is I absolutely love your videos, especially the confession ones.

I watch them all the time because they make me feel less alone. I've been debating, sending this in for a few days, and finally have the courage to do it. So to start off, I'm a 22-year-old female. However, my story starts in my freshman, year of high school. Right before school started, I got the flu pretty bad. It made me physically exhausted and overall just feel awful. I did recover before the first day of school, but I used my recovery as an excuse to get out of gym class. Originally, I was planning on it being a one-time thing. The gym teacher

actually believed me and allowed me to sit out. I really liked that. I got away with it, and it felt good and it was easy. The next day, I used the excuse again and told my teacher my parents were going to take me to the doctor to get things checked out. I ended up going through with it and told my parents that something was wrong so they took me to the doctor. They obviously couldn't find anything wrong with me, so I was sent home. So I forged the note that clarified my current condition. It said I was suffering a neurological condition of some sort. And again, surprisingly, my teachers believed me. I got a sort of high from the lie I was getting away with. So I continued to pull through with this fake condition. I started putting effort into fake limping. I really committed to that bit. I did enough

research to be able to bullshit the people in my life to make it look legit. Years have passed. I'm in college now and still faking it. Not because I want to avoid the activities, but because I feel like I can't go back now. My parents have asked me more than anyone else. I had them convinced it was some sort of psychosomatic condition, something hard to explain, primarily so I didn't have to go too deep into anything. But yeah, I've been having a lot of trouble recently trying to keep up with it. I feel so guilty, but I'm so caught up in this lie that I feel like I can't get out without destroying my entire life. Thank you for reading if you do. Any advice would be appreciated. Thank you for the videos you make snook. Love them. And right, it sounds like you've got yourself

in a pickle. You know, you've been faking this condition for years now, and now you're in too deep. I don't know how many people know about it, especially since this is college now. But my question is just kind of like why you did it, but at this point it's kind of just, you know, too late. I mean, you could do, I'm just, I have two routes in my mind. Number one, you pretend to get better and you kind of make up a lie that it's solved and you're all good.

Or number two, you come clean about it to everyone and be like, hey, I was faking it. And this is the real me. I'm actually fine. Or some sort of mix of the both. But, you know, please don't continue doing this. I think it's just, it's just silly. And it's just going to keep causing problems. You know, you're in too deep already,

but you don't want to continue doing this into work or other sort of, you know, obligations in your future life. So I really would, you know, like to suggest to get out of this as soon as you can. And I don't know how easy that is, and I don't know if you'll even take my advice, but hopefully you listen to it, and hopefully you can kind of get your life back on track

without, you know, lying about a disability. Anyways, thank you so much for sharing. Reddeter loses over $800,000 gambling and hides it from his family. And the first post is, I lost $100,000 in four weeks. I need advice. I'm 36 years old and not in debt other than a mortgage.

I have an eight-month-old daughter, and I'm scared to death. I've been gambling somewhat randomly since college. I'm well over $300,000 now in losses, most of which was my money, and now $100,000 just in the last four weeks. And every time I went back, it was to recover from the day before, but the numbers kept adding up. My wife doesn't know a thing.

The money is mine, $100,000 gifted by my dad, who is completely against even wasting a dollar and who put his trust in me to use it wisely for family, success, or paying down my mortgage. I'm a terrible son. I feel shame and regret to even look him in the eye knowing what I've done in a matter of weeks.

It took many years for him to make. I still feel I need to go back to get it back. My wife doesn't know yet, keyword. It'll be a very ugly convo when she finds out. Maybe even walk out on me. Who knows? That kind of money isn't easy to hide, right? I feel depressed, broken, failure. I just want this $100,000 back. It's just too much to lose. A $10,000 loss turns to $15, and then $7,500 and just downhill from there. I lost all $22,500 and came to $1,000. kept going back losing $10,000 to $15,000 per day at times. What should I do? Talk to my wife? She will lose it. And if my dad finds out, I'm afraid he won't be able to take it,

and I'll be the reason for what happens to him. I'm such a bad son. And then the OP makes another post about a month later, saying, Rock Bottom, painful truth and unsure what the future holds. He says, Hey guys, 36 male, and I'm, posted quite a bit so in response to my first post I say this listen to every word people say here something took over me I can't explain it because I don't know myself what the fuck happened

losing money is evil it will make you do things out of control the fight to recover losses kept turning into a losing battle over and over again so here I am rock bottom in just two months I've lost everything in my bank account, $170,000, and also took out $10,000 from credit card and another $10,000 from personal line of credits, so I'm officially in a gambling debt of $20,000. Now that's a total of $190,000. And it's a harsh reality.

What does it feel like? Hmm, butterflies in your stomach. The earth just slipped from under your feet. feet and you feel light, but there's weight pushing you down. Disbelief because the gambling mind cannot accept what happened, but then reality kicks in because the bank is proof. Shame, disgust, Sward thoughts, frowned but pretending to smile. Wife doesn't know yet of my situation, so I'm lying to my partner.

Always a bad thing. Nine-month-old daughter whom I now feel like I've ruined a comfortable lifer alongside my wife. I first posted out a $100,000 loss. Everyone said stop, stay clean, tell the truth. It doesn't get better. I continue to go back over and over again because I could not accept it. Bottom line, accept it. Now, where you're going to be where I am.

Now over $500,000 in losses out of which $190,000 is very recent. This is the end reality. It feels a lot worse than when you're, win a single bet. And that's not the last post. There's a lot of posts after this, but I mean, this is just so terrifying to me. It's just the addiction of gambling. Gambling is just such a trap. And I mean, I hope a lot of you guys know this, but I mean, it's just not worth even doing once. It's like any other drug. It's like, would you try H once? Would you try crystal once? Probably not. But people are so casual about gambling. They're like, oh, it's fine. Just put five bucks on the game.

that five bucks turns to 10 that 10 turns to 20 the 20 turns to 100 and then soon enough you're losing thousands of dollars and you think you can win it back you think you can win it back and this is just obvious

gambling addiction but it just can start so casually and then spiral into something like this and this might not be like the conventional terrifying confession or someone confessed that killed somebody but this is just the confession

of someone ruining their life because they just ruined his daughter's life and his wife's life. I mean, imagine knowing or not knowing your partner is losing all of his money. That takes care of you and your kid. That is beyond terrifying to me. But anyways, let's move on to his next post. Titled, struggling to forget and complete wreck. Posted about 10 days later.

And the post reads as follows, update from previous posts. life feels very depressing. Love playing with my daughter, and every time I look at her, the thought crosses my mind. Why did I blow my money at the casino where I should have used it for a future? College, car, real estate, necessities, and the list goes on. Have not told the wife yet, nor has she poked into the bank account that would show nothing but withdrawals in the thousands for the last two and a half months. Losing strength.

Stress is killing me because I picked up. dead to gamble and lost everything casinos are temporarily shut down effective today so good that i can't go to relapse i need to tell the wife don't have the courage because i can't explain how i didn't learn a lesson but ended up losing two hundred thousand dollars i don't know if she'll understand and i'm also afraid of the shame this brings once everyone in the family finds out killed my self-esteem i'm a wreck and stressed to no end to the Those reading this, stay strong, let's get rid of this horrible demon. And something I forgot to say about before the last post, like he also took his dad's money and used it. I mean, not only did he destroy his own financial career.

He destroyed the faith that his father had in him, which is not material, but that is so horrible and sad. I mean, how will O.P.'s father ever trust him again? He gave him $100,000 to take care of his family with, and he wasted it gambling. God, just so, so sad. His next post was titled, Day 1 starts, $275,000 lost. Posted about two months later, and the post reads as follows. Game over. I kept going back to recover big losses, and now I'm sitting here after literally four months exact.

$200,000 missing. $75,000 of debt between credit cards and line of credit. Barely any money left except to survive. I have a family who doesn't know of this. Many of you know my story on here. I haven't told significant other, and she's on a trip with the young one. I thought I could take the opportunity to go back to the casino to recover, but that didn't happen. Instead, I found myself pulling money from creditors.

to gamble, but just lost it all. I know my performance at work has been affected. I am a completely different person physically in the mirror. The stress has taken that smile and brightness. Fuck gambling. I am sick and I'm going to get better. This is day one and here's the plan. Number one, use Helllock to pay off the expense of debt

to refinance the home for $100,000 when mortgage is up for renewal in August. Pay off the Helllock. Three, significant other and hope she can support my recovery instead of walking away. The news I understand will be a lot to stomach. Four, get healthy and back in shape. Five, cut down on spending

slash eating out. Six, find a side hustle slash part-time job. Seven, attend Gambler's Anonymous meetings if I can. I wish I could reverse that last four months. I can't, so now I'll spend the next decade trying to recover.

My life is a wreck, and I cannot live like this any longer. And holy shit, this just keeps getting worse. He lost even more money. And still, he hasn't told his significant other or his family. I mean, he's just digging a deeper and deeper hole. Not only financially, but what's going to happen when his significant other finds out? she's going to be like you haven't told me this for four months now you've been hiding this behind your back for four months and you keep going back i mean i don't understand i mean obviously it is very shameful it is

very sad but why doesn't the opi tell a significant other so she can help hold him accountable if that makes sense it's like i would rather not go through this alone but at the same time i understand why i would be so shameful to even tell anyone but still just wow and the next post is titled self-excluded indefinitely day one posted a few days later he says relapsed and couldn't stop i put my life on the line thought about s word and only thing holding me down to earth is my daughter wife and family whom i let down they don't have a clue as to what i have done number one gambled away my own money in some inheritance two picked up seventy thousand dollars debt three dipped into wife's account and took another $50,000.

I am now walking out of this miserable place, the casino, that has taken everything from me mentally and financially in the last six months. $325,000 lost and same amount in prior years. I am 600 grand plus in losses. and there's only one way to stop. I have it in my hand a win today. Willpower. Backed up by self-exclusion form banning indefinitely.

Now, the truth must be told to my wife, and I need to protect my family from me. I don't know if I will have a family. Should my wife not be supportive, but at least I've done what I never thought I would do. Stop gambling, guys. Nobody wins. This industry will take you to your grave

a lot faster than God. And oh my God. $600,000 in debt. Jesus Christ. That is just, I mean, obviously, $100,000 is a lot of money. That is a ton of money. But $600,000 is just a different level.

That is just the level you'll have to be paying it off your entire life. life, especially if that's on high credit, high credit interest. I mean, oh my, oh my God, this is just getting worse and worse. And the OP makes another post a few months later, and the post is titled, Told the wife, it's done. She now came out over phone because I was at work. Balled out like crazy, said sorry, she's pissed and not responding to text. Now giving her some space.

If I go home, either she's there or gone, who knows. work sucks right now want to get out asap but can't yet will be a hectic night maybe limited convoy if there is one i finally got this off my chest and although nervous i feel good because it was slowly killing me inside with depression and s word thoughts oh d aat living with consequences of our actions i suppose and um that's great he told his wife but i'm very interested to see how this goes and he makes a post two days later saying, hey all, I wanted to give you all an update on my full disclosure for many of you who have seen my posts. Ultimate Rock Bottom is not money lost.

It's trust. That's what I said earlier. For those of you that are single, you still lose trust. My wife, who I don't blame, has opened up to her family into mine. I feel humiliated, regretful, wish this has never happened, but I also think it's for the betterment and recovery. Time will heal, but the healing has to start. For those who have yet to share with family about your problems, do so. It's hard at first. Stress level rises 10,000 times in the moment, but in the end, it is what it is. Consequences of actions. I chose to be a better

person. I finally got rid of this problem and all others that caused pain to loved ones. The years of respect I earned. Lost. I feel terrible, but I deserve this. Going to move on now and put the past behind me. News will spread like wildfire and humiliation will continue. In the end, it is what it is as there's no rewining time but change the future. Good luck. I'm proud to own my mistakes and for me that's a huge win.

Weight of the world off my chest. Say no to gambling. Become a winner once and for all. And then the OP makes a post titled 135. days gambling free. And the post reads as follows. Hey everyone, haven't posted here for a very long time. 135 days gambling free.

Here's how I did it. Lost $300,000 in six months, went into serious regretfulness, depression, and insane amounts of stress, came to Jesus and banned myself from all land-based casinos. This was step one to freedom. Confessed everything to family. Step two.

Went to hell and back because of it. Lost respect, trust, love, held on to marriage, but it was brutal. Starting to came back. Step 3. Luckily, work got very busy. Kept my mind occupied, which helped out a great deal. I cannot forgive myself. Losses in pain.

I've caused my loved ones. Bothers me all the time, but I don't think about wanting to ever go back to gambling again. Huge. Step 4. Self-realization. Good luck to no game. gambling and just that's great i mean that is just great a hundred thirty five days is huge and that's great he you know was able to go that long without gambling and was able to start gaining back the

trust and love that he's so deeply lost and understandably so but then the post makes an update about seven months later and the title is did it again need desperate advice. So much for a ban. Urged to reinstate and I did. I won $40,000 from $3,000. Put it all back. Plus 30,000 gradual losses of 5 to 6k

after putting back 20K the next day. $30,000 debt. No way to repay all the finances are handled by a significant other. What do I do? Last time was a family crisis. Now I have no choice but to turn to my parents again. and say, bail me out like last time.

The problem is the last time I should have learned my lesson. I really don't know what to do. I can't tell anyone about this recent events or else I'm doomed and I will really hurt my loved ones. If this comes out, however it may, I'm definitely getting divorced. I got a wife and kid who I don't want to lose. I want to tell my parents that I had this loan from the last event that turned my whole life upside down, but I fear this will put them through hell and back knowing how they can't trust me.

I make good money, but can't use it now. That partner controls the finances. Your thoughts? How should I handle this? And just, that is crushing. That is just so crushing how he went, it seems like seven months. And he just went back. That is just so, so crushing.

And then he makes another post saying, hit rock bottom again. It's over for me. Posted about a month later. And the post reads as follows. Hey all, please stop gambling. I relapsed and now with $40,000 debt and no way to repay considering the situation I'm in where partner controls finances.

I cannot let anyone know about this or it's going to be a huge problem. I just can't believe I put myself through this again. I don't even have money left from the last round of stupidity. No more access to loans and I've already borrowed from friends and family. Now I'm sitting with $500 in my account right now with bills on the way. This shit sucks so bad. I just wish I could do something bad to himself. This financial stress is so bad.

I need help but don't know if my partner will be so supportive this time if they find out. And yeah, the op he got himself in deep shit again. because he came clean with his significant other, his family, and they lost trust but supported him. And the second time around, obviously, is going to be a lot harder for them to support him. So he is in deep, deep shit. And then the Opie makes a post again three weeks later,

saying, anyone in relapse and tell their partner. The post reads, struggling to find some courage to tell my spouse that I fucked up a second time and how miserable of a husband slash father I am works so hard to dump our money to a casino. I already got

my ultimatum the last time after massive losses. Here I am again reliving the past, except this time is all out debt only. My head is going to explode. I'm super stressed and I don't know what to do. Anyone tell

their significant other of a relapse and how did that go? And then it makes a post a few days later, saying, if you're given a second chance but you relapse and out yourself through the same shit again, is this a calling to get help? And the post reads, maybe some of you read my post. I'm in devastating situation again and have no guts to share with anyone.

I got a second chance. Ban myself. Year later, same boat, and now badly in debt. I keep thinking what got me to gambling. I work hard to earn the money, but money doesn't hold great value to me. Why? Well, I think I have an answer. Throughout my younger years, my pops never let me manage my finances. He always checked my accounts, always wanted to be the one to manage, always led me to believe what he got his mind one day. He's not rich, just normal.

I never felt in control and I never learned to manage well because it was just money, but I see young people now so cautious of their finances. I'm not sure if what I'm thinking. I'm not sure if what I'm thinking is wrong. I really don't want to blame my parents, but I wish if I had the freedom to manage my earnings and expenses in my younger years, I wouldn't chase easy money. And I mean, I don't see a correlation there, but who knows? I got a gambling problem. I admit it now. I need help and I'm certainly devastated by the outcome. Debt upon my eyeballs. Earn good money, but people got bills to pay and need to survive. So irregardless, it's an unnecessary expense to have all these debt payments.

Try to have my spouse managed the finances. Instead, I pulled out loans behind their back. Do I deserve a third chance? Or should this be it? Divorce and Destruction. And I was curious about the comments on this post. And the only comment is, the only person you can blame is yourself.

And it has three upvotes. He's not going to allow help. This is just devastating. Then the OPE says, Help. Someone give me some courage to break the news and how to begin telling people. How do I tell my wife about my relapse? This is killing me.

How do I tell her that I broke her trust again? Put us again in a bad situation. This is crazy. This shit ruins lives, man. Here I am a grown-ass man crying like a wussy. Have no control, no realization to my actions. Can't do anything other than putting my loved ones in pain and suffering. God, I can't deal with this.

What do I do? someone please give me advice. God, this is just, this is getting emotional. This is just crazy. Then he says, anyone here relapse and racked of six-figure debt, posted a few months later, and then he says, miserable, looking for anyone who can relate and help with a solution and or advice. Last year, terrible huge losses in the mid-six figs, confessed and banned and returned to the devil. Now using up all the great credit. it built up over many, many years, picked up $200,000 debt at pretty harsh interest from multiple bullshit places, life in complete turmoil, unhappy, depressed, mentally effed up, stressed to no end,

regrets, unfaithfulness with spouse, fake smiles, hidden cries, you name it because it's by far the worst list, numb to value of money between four walls of the devil's house, outside the reality hits hard. Now sitting back thinking, why did I do it? Approaching 40, which gives me the chills. Anyone relate? What do I do? Can't face a second confession, no heart or strength for that. And then the OP makes a post about two months later saying, came clean the second time. Just confess to wife, heartbreak. Don't know what's going to happen now. I deserve any and all punishment again at this point. Couldn't avoid coming clean because the lies in double life I couldn't stand living no more. I hope I come out stronger for our family. And then the opi post

two weeks later saying relapse. Today for the second time I feel so humiliated again because of my relapse had my family walk out of the door and I'm here all alone. More than money. I lost love and I lost trust. Quit gambling, people. And then the OPE makes a final update. About two months later, titled, Ruin Myself and Lost Everything.

And the post reads as follows, Wife Left with the Kid. Debt in over my head. Completely destroyed myself financially because I'd have to sell my house to repay it. Once again, the house is won, and we continue to think we can beat them. What I don't get is how I let this get to where it is without thinking of the consequences

and to make it worse. I had ample time to dwell on repeat mistakes. What the hell is this rush? It's the worst fucking drug in the world. This one not only ruins you, but also your family. Mentally, I'm a wreck. I only wish I could make it out on top. Restart at 40.

That's where I've ended up. And then the opi just keeps making small posts. and updates, and I read at one point he lost one million dollars lost in a five-year span. Jesus Christ. One million dollars lost. And he just keeps posting on how he's an attic and how he's alone and how his wife left him. And he has nothing left anymore. And yeah, his final comment ever on his profile was,

I can relate, but I'm not where you are yet. I truly wish I can think this way someday sooner than later, still processed in the defeat. Leave seven figures aside. Family gone. Home lost. Thanks for the post. Satisfied me knowing there is more to life than money.

So it's pretty clear that the OPE lost a million dollars or up to a million dollars in that time, lost his family, and then lost his home. This is truly one of the saddest spirals I have ever seen on Reddit. I've seen multiple kind of drug use spirals, but this is just a different level. I mean, he just lost hundreds or literally like he said, a million dollars. A million dollars to gambling. He lost his home.

He lost his family. He lost fucking everything. And it's just so, so terrifying and sad and depressing. and this was just one hell of a saga, if you can even call it that. I mean, this is over a year or so, like, of consistent posts, and just Jesus, guys.

If any of you are watching with a gambling addiction, please reach out to Gamblers Anonymous. It will get better, but please, just stop gambling. You will never beat the house, ever. Something I can't explain happened to me, and it's destroying my life. I'm not crazy I don't

have never and will never use drugs not even pot I haven't drank since college and even then it was just with my girl because she was a partier

I am by all means sane or at least I was before something bizarre and terrifying happen to me early morning during the summer of 2020 I have told nobody

about this not a damn soul If I even mention it to anybody, they would immediately question my mental state. This throwaway account is the only place this story will be. I'm only typing this out on my cell phone because I need some relief for this turmoil in my head. Every time someone mentions secrets, anything paranormal, or even, you'll never believe what I saw, my blood runs cold. I get goosebumps and my eyes tear up. I'm a prison in my own mind.

And I hope beyond hope, post my story here somehow calms this situation I have going on. If it helps someone else, so be it. But I'll be honest. I'm writing this for me. I'm uncomfortable with talking about this, not because I'm a skeptic, but because I know beyond any shred of a doubt that something paranormal happened to me. The backstory. My car registration was not paid up because my state said they will not be penalizing drivers,

through the pandemic. Registration is very expensive in the state, and my hours had naturally been cut during the pandemic, so I opted to not pay it. Well, my apartment management did not agree and decided to put a notice on my windshield that having expired tags is a violation of the lease agreement and cars with expired tags will be towed at the owner's expense, and residents will face possible eviction for repeated violations. Completely insane eviction reasons aside, I couldn't afford my car being towed if I couldn't afford paying the reggie in the first place. So I opted to park my car at my parents' house,

just two blocks away from my place. This made it an easy morning walk to get to my car and drive to work, which was also nearby. I made this walk for months. The walk was nice and my mom would drive me home. Don't judge me. My mom is awesome, and she's She was happy to spare me from the 100 plus degree summer heat. The route I had to walk took me behind their house. Their backyard was one of those city-maintained cinderblock walls with a major road right on the other side. One morning, I was making the walk,

and I randomly got the idea to hop the wall to save myself five minutes of walking. I wasn't in a hurry. I gave myself plenty of time. This is an odd choice, since the wall isn't super sturdy, and it is very tall and rough. Without second-guessing, the choice I grabbed the top of the wall, put my foot on it, and hurtled right up and over in one motion. I even surprised myself with how athletic of a move it was.

I started walking to the house, and something stopped me dead in my tracks. A fucking gnome. Yes, a fucking gnome. You're probably rolling your eyes and smirking, right now. But I'm dead serious. I don't know how else to describe it. It was about a foot tall and walking around like it was patrolling the area. It was not human like at all. It acted almost like a bug or a robot. It had a little spear-like tool with it and its action seemed deliberate and dutiful. What's really fucked is that I could feel its thoughts. Not telepathy,

but I could just feel that it was aware I could see it. While I absolutely froze with fear, it opened its mouth and silently screamed to some unseen comrades. It wasn't scared of me, but it was absolutely going apeshit about the fact I could see it. I stood there, totally frozen, and unable to move while its lower jaw, just silently rattled back and forth. Still howling. This family is on the brink of civil wall. Mopland, the hit original series is now streaming on Paramount Plus. We are the Harrogans.

Don't know than it? And Google us. From the underworld of Guy Ritchie. Do you want to step up the ladder? I won't comment dead. Starring Tom Hardy, Pierce Brosnan, and Helen Mirren. Do I have to do everything myself? You want to want!

I'll give you a... Moblad, new season is now streaming on Paramount Plus. Silently. It's fear turned into frustration, and suddenly, I was back on the other side of the wall, walking about a minute before I was behind my parents' house, and decided to make the jump.

I was fully aware of what happened, and I still could feel my heart in my ears. I just kept walking. I passed their backyard, completely terrified, of what was just on the other side of the wall. I just kept walking. Tears were streaming down my face as I made the only turn to the small connecting street,

and another right, into the street which I grew up on. I just kept walking. I thought about waking my parents up and telling them what I saw. I contemplated going to the backyard and grabbing a shovel and looking for that little alien gnome fucker. But instead, I dutifully and automatically pulled my keys from my pocket and calmly opened the car door, started the engine, and drove off toward work like I always did.

I got to work at 545, 15 minutes before my shift started. I wanted to stay in my car and call my wife to cry to her and beg her to tell me it was a dream or a hallucination or something. I was beside myself, but instead I just got out of the car and walked inside to make a cup of coffee like I always do. It wasn't like I was in a trance. It was like someone else was calling the shots and I was spectating. As soon as I got to my work area and greeted my coworker, the spectating stopped and I was in full control again. But my heart wasn't racing and I wasn't horrified.

I was just normal me. I can't explain it well, and I know that doesn't make sense. But that's what happened. My mind and body weren't one for about 20 minutes. Then suddenly, they were, and it was just okay. Now you know why this still has me fucked up to this day? What the actual fuck were those things? Why did I choose to scale the wall that morning?

Sudden, impulsive choices are so unlike me, it's crazy to even think that I would do that. But I did do that. Want to know how I know? My fingertips were cut up from the top of the wall. They were dirty and raw. from pulling my weight up the wall. I'm in tears writing this.

This hits home. This really happened to me, and I can never tell anyone this. I finally gathered the courage to tell you random internet strangers, and it was so much harder than I thought it would be. Hopefully getting this off my chest somehow helps me get past this because I've been genuinely traumatized by this experience.

Am I really in control of me? Are there some little weird assholes behind the scenes controlling our lives, guarding us? From what? I'm so lost and I have literally zero answers. I'm not religious and I've prayed for answers. I have nothing but trauma and anger. Thanks for reading. Go ahead and tell me I'm crazy or I had a stroke or something.

Let's hear it. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says you might be having. a psychotic break, but after the way the last five years have been, I'm rooting for gnomes are real, and they can scoot us around in time. The world needs a little magic. Someone else says, I can't give you answers on what you saw, but it is possible that you went into flight or fight mode and your brain disassociated to try and protect itself. Your whole description of not feeling in control of your body and just going through the motions to

continue your routine sounds very similar to disassociated. association. With how terrified you're describing yourself to have been, it is a possibility. Someone replies to that saying, I agree with this. I'm not going to say if the gnome was real or not, but even if it were, it wasn't controlling you, O.P. Your brain was just in panic mode. So you can rest easier on that part, I think. Someone else comments saying, this does not sound like a schizophrenic episode. And even though I don't know you, if this is the first time you've experienced something like this, I doubt very much you have schizophrenia. I've worked in mental health for six years now, and these are the most common presentations of schizophrenia. Age of onset is between

17 to 25 years old. Typically, you won't experience symptoms before or after those ages. However, outliers do exist. Delusions can be violent or paranoid. Some delusions are harmless. It depends on the person's culture and their particular symptoms. My point is, a one-time experience like this does not indicate schizophrenia or any kind of psychotic breakdown. I think the most probable explanation would be a heat-induced hallucination. In your text, you wrote that it was hot during your walks and sometimes in the hundreds-degree wise.

That's enough to make anyone hallucinate. And then, surprisingly, a lot of the comments are of people saying, that they also have seen gnomes and they believe the op which is just wild to me I have never seen anyone on the internet before claim they've seen gnomes I mean I've spent a lot of time on the internet

I do and this is the first time I've seen such a large group of people claiming they have seen gnomes so maybe gnomes or seeing gnomes is a common symptom of some kind of psychotic break I mean everyone watching right now have you ever seen gnomes before like am I the only one that's never heard of this.

But yeah, everyone in the comment section is like, yeah, I saw it back in my day. What? And I mean, it just seems to me like the O.P had a psychotic break of some sort or heat-induced hallucinations or something like that. But the O.P makes an edit to his original post responding to a lot of these comments. He says, thank you to everyone who commented. Typing this out did not immediately grant me any type of relief or solace, and I regretted it almost immediately.

But after reading the comments as they came flooding in, I realized that it's okay that I had this huge life-changing event. My turmoil and anger has come from the fact that something happened to me, and no matter the cause, I have to deal with it alone. I still am not going to tell anyone whom I know what I experienced. But having so many anonymous strangers stop by and tell me on Reddit to stay positive absolutely has helped me way more than I could imagine. It's okay to have unexplainable phenomena happen and just move forward.

The impact this Venice had on me is absolutely absurd. I didn't get much into it on my original post, but every time the subject of mystery, magic, secrets, sanity, or anything even indirectly related to what happened came up, I'd get angry, sweaty, become distant and shorts with my loved ones, and just totally shifts in my personality. Several commenters have identified the possibility of me suffering from PTSD from this. I never would have accepted that I need medical help.

If I didn't post this message for Reddit, I'm glad I put myself out there because this genuinely is destroying my life. Now I see a peaceful path forward. My wife suffers from PTSD, what some might call actual PTSD because it stems from several very violent evidence. episodes directed at her when she was young. Thanks to the positive reactions to the comments here, I talked to her about anxiety, PTSD, and what she does to help herself.

I told her I'm just under lots of stress and would love if we could revisit some of the meditation techniques I remember her doctor having her do early on in our relationship. She happily obliged without prying into my situation and even mentioned she noticed I've been off for a little while now. Side note. Someone please. direct me on where I can nominate her for a wife of the year award. She's just fantastic.

Anyway, I just want to say a big thank you to everyone here who commented. There are many mixed opinions below about what actually happened. Some people think I'm making it up. Some people think I'm batshit crazy or had a brief episode of schizophrenia. Some people believe me and even opened up about similar events in their own lives. One thing was common with nearly every comment. Everyone wished me well. You guys are so overwhelmingly positive that pretty much every single comment showed me you are invested in my well-being.

Sure, there were a few trolls, but genuinely you guys all want me to be happy and healthy going forward. I owe it to all of you wonderful people to prioritize my health and my family's well-being so I can move past this insane one-off event in my life. For the record, I believe it really happened and I believe there are some mysterious forces that we can't comprehend at play around us. For some reason, it manifested itself as a gnome and turned my life upside down. I don't know why it happened to me, but I know that it did happen. And I just have to say that I hope the O.P. gets the help he needs because I'm not going to sit here and be an armchair psychiatrist and be like, well, I think this and that and I think he has this. No, I'm not going to do that. But, I mean, you can just tell. You can just tell from this, from this. from this post that he needs help.

He saw a gnome and he said it ruined his life and I just think he needs to go talk to somebody who can maybe help him calm down from this and recognize that it wasn't real or just to move on from this because, I mean, he said multiple times in here that it ruined his life. And so this obviously was a pivotal point

in his life for, I guess just the gnome. It was very weird, but I still think he needs to get help. It's obviously not normal to see gnomes, no matter which way you put it. And so I just hope the OPE gets the help he needs because he does seem like he's a little bit off his rocker here and there. I'm not going to sit here and try to diagnose him with anything or whatever, but it doesn't seem like he's all there. And I just hope he gets the help he needs because, yeah, it's just very important to get help when you might think you need it. and I think the OPE here might need it.

I knew my brother was going to commit S-word, and I didn't try to stop him. Hi, Snook, I've been watching your videos for years now, as I deliver packages for FedEx and I love your content, so much so that I have almost no more of them to listen to. So thank you for being a big part of my life. I hope this can make it into a video, as I feel it may have some value to others who may relate.

all names have been changed for privacy. Please keep me anonymous. Now on to my confession. In order to truly paint the picture for this confession, I need to give some backstory context. Rewind the year to early 2012. I, age 11 at this time, was living with my mom and her douchebag husband in a small town in Utah.

I never clicked with that guy. and he threatened harmed me plenty and at one point actually did anyway i had a falling out with my mother and one early rainy morning after a big fight she ordered me into her van didn't let me gather my things and i was only wearing jim shorts in the van she didn't say a word only drove angrily she dropped me off in my dad's apartment and sped away i knocked on his door and he and his wife we will call Dedey accepted me with open arms. The next couple of months is where I get acquainted with Dede's family, her parents and her children. Her two sons lived with us, 16 male, Ryan, and 12-year-old male, Brian.

My stepbrothers over the next two years became what I saw as brothers. The events over these two years can be made into stories themselves, but that's not the topic today. Now, let's go forward a year. into early 2013. I am now 12 years of age. Me and Ryan are best bros. He was the older brother I never had.

He was funny, made tons of jokes, always made people laugh, he was charming and had the looks. Tall, dark, and handsome, as some would say. He had it all. I looked up to him, but I believe it was August of that year, Ryan got into a terrible car accident. going 70 miles an hour, no seatbelt, and crashed into a ditch, hitting something.

I don't know what exactly, but he ended up flying through his window shield and into the ditch. Oncoming traffic found him and called the police. He had a massive open gash in his head and was unconscious. I still remember the call my dad and D.D. God. It was traumatic for us all. At the hospital, Ryan ended up needing brain surgery. After a couple of weeks, he made a full recovery and was discharged. The weeks following, I noticed Ryan wasn't the same.

He had new interests and didn't make as many jokes. He was suddenly into Mexican music and the language. He lost friends and had an obsession with this one girl at his school. One day, while in my room, he came in with an extension cord and told me something along the lines of, I swear to God I'm going to kill this lady, referring to D.D. I'm going to strangle her with this cord. And all the while had a smile on his face.

I found the statement shocking, but at the same time, I also thought he was making a dark joke. He was a jokester after all. Another time close to Halloween, he bought a mask and would spend a lot of time customizing it. One time, I went to the shed where he would work on his mask, which was black and marked with scratches and expressionless, I told him how cool his mask was looking.

He said thanks and proceeded to say, if you hear on the news about a shooting and the person wore this mask, you know it was me. Remember that. Again, shocking, but I thought he was making a dark joke. Now, almost a decade later, I realized these statements were most likely cries for help.

I just wish I could see that when I was so young. Now, another year later, early 2014, I was 13 years of age. I noticed Ryan was a lot more isolated, he hardly talked to people, and always seemed angry. I never knew why, but he had temper issues. My dad in DEDES shared birthday was coming up, and Ryan had plans to surprise them with a gift. He told me it was going to be amazing and they were going to love it. But in the meantime, we was going to write in his journal about his ongoings. A week goes by and it is now my dad and his wife, Dede's shared birthday.

Ryan is sitting at the dinner table writing in his journal. I ask him what he is doing. He replies, shockingly, it's my S word note. At my immature age of 13 and lack of experience with this type of stuff, I said, Ha ha, no it isn't. Ryan looked up at me,

expressionless, like his mask, and simply said, yes, it is. Now, to perface this, at my young age of 13, I have never had to deal with death,

especially anyone so close to me. I didn't know the seriousness. I didn't know how to handle this. I have never needed to. I didn't believe him. My heart hurts, with what I'm about to type out. I told him,

if he was going to do it, he should spend the rest of his credit card and buy me things. I know. How disgusting, I obliged. For the rest of the day, my biological brother and Ryan hung out. We walked the town as he told me his plans

to commit S-word. Looking back, I knew I believed him by that point. but I didn't want to. I wanted to believe he was just making another dark joke, and we would all laugh about it later. We walked and walked, talked, talked. Then we made it to Walmart, where he proceeded to buy me and my brother things,

with the rest of his money. At this point, I needed it to talk to him. It had gotten too real. We sat outside Walmart, and chatted. I told him he shouldn't do it. He couldn't do it. We love him and so many others do.

But he would go on to tell me nothing would change his mind. Nobody was going to stop him. Then he made a statement that still chills me to this day. He said, you realize, if I don't do this, I'm going to kill everyone, right? I'm going to kill everyone and go to prison. To which I replied, even me? And chillingly, he simply replied, yes.

Then he said, So I need to do this. I don't think you want me to end your life or your dads. So if you try to tell anyone or call the police, I will kill you all and commit S word later. Following this was silence. I didn't know what to say. I was terrified.

I didn't want him to fall through, and I didn't want him to kill us all. We finished the walk and ended up at his grandparents' house. This is where he dropped off the Walmart supplies and his S-word note. He told them not to open any of it until 9 p.m. It was a surprise. For whatever reason, they agreed. His grandparents took me and my biological brother back home where just before leaving,

Ryan looked at me with a smile and said, Bye, bro. I'll see you tomorrow. This statement leaves a deep sadness in me to this day. I stay silent. Now I have my dad's and Dede's apartment an hour goes by. Just me and my dad alone as Didi was at a meeting. We are playing video games and eating dinner.

Then my dad gets a call. I knew. I knew what that call was. I look over to my dad. He is stunned. He puts a hand to his mouth and begins to silently cry. I've only ever seen my dad cry like that twice in my life. This was serious.

He hangs up the phone, looks at me, and says, Ryan fucking committed S word. He fucking committed S word. I began to cry. We cried and hugged on my dad's birthday. The note, which was titled The Comedian, was opened too late by his grandparents, and it revealed everything.

his plans to commit a shooting the reasons he came to this decision so many reasons we found out a big reason was his father was also committed S word while he was a young boy and his family would S A him the birthday surprise he had for my dad and D-D it was terrifying

he was going to kill them both then me my brother and his brother, but he didn't. I guess I can thank him for that. But in the end, I still feel guilty. I wish I knew more. I wish I was more mature.

I wish I pulled him out of that. All the red flags, all the warning signs, I was too young and stupid. My brother committed S-Wrower. word. And I didn't stop him. To this day, over a decade later, I am now 25 years old. I have lived longer than he did. I have a beautiful wife and two beautiful children. I have everything he never got to have. I will forever feel guilt. Sadness. Such a great guy. Such a great guy. Such a a terrible ending. If this gets in a video, I want everyone to know whether you are a young,

ignorant kid like I was, or an older person. Please, please do everything you can to save someone. See the warning signs. Take their words seriously. Pull them out of that place and save a loved one. or end up like me. Thank you, Snook, for reading, and I hope this can be of some value to someone. There is a lot to learn from my mistakes. My sister is mentally ill, and I wish she would just die already.

Hi, Snook, this might be a long one, so sorry in advance. I have a few major things in my life I could talk about, but this is probably one of the most entertaining, I guess. I recently stumbled across your YouTube channel and got hooked, so I thought maybe I could share something and get it off my chest. Obviously, I'd like this to say anonymous and do with it what you will. My sister is bipolar and schizophrenic.

She is mentally very unwell and keeps having children. I currently have five nieces and one. one nephew from three different fathers. One of them is a stoner who sells drugs. One is in jail for murder. He also threatened my mom and said he would throw acid on her face. And another is an alcoholic who has three or more Rward allegations against him. As you can guess, none of them are present in the children's lives.

The worst part is that my mom has custody of most of the kids. And many of them have difficult. One has ADHD and autism. One has an 18-month developmental delay, and another also has autism. For some context, I live with my Spanish dad in Spain. My mom is English and stayed in England. I left because I was sick of everything and had a terrible childhood. So I moved in with my dad. My sister is older than me and has a different dad. that's where a lot of her issues come from. Her father was Middle Eastern. I can't remember exactly where from. He forced my mom to convert to his religion and basically treated her like a slave.

When my sister was a child, she was repeatedly abused and R-worded by her dad and her uncles. A few years later, my mom had me with my dad in Spain, and I had a relatively normal childhood until I was about five or six. When my parents split up, I'm surprised I remember so much from that time because I was so young. But I remember getting along well with my sister back then. When my parents separated, I moved to England with my mom and my sister. I don't think my sister even remembered what had happened to her until later on. In England, she got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Started smoking weed, taking drugs, and getting into trouble. From that point on, I felt like, she wasn't the same person anymore. She completely changed. When everything seemed to be going well,

at least from the perspective of a six or seven year old, everything suddenly turned. I left England and moved back to Spain when I was 13. Over the years, my sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, and she has had three psychotic episodes. From what I understand, And each one can cause serious damage and reduce cognitive function. She goes on and off her medication. When she's on it, she's like a piece of furniture, glued to her phone and completely disconnected from the kids and everyone else. When she's off it, she becomes unstable again and ends up getting pregnant. It's honestly insane.

She's driving my mom to the brink. And most of the family wants nothing to do. with her anymore. I feel powerless because I'm in Spain and can't really do anything to help. Sometimes I just wish she would drop dead so everyone could finally live their lives in peace. I especially feel bad for the kids because they must be traumatized by all of her episodes. I know it's not really her fault. She had a horrible childhood that left her deeply traumatized and mentally scarred for life, but at the same time, I also had a terrible. childhood because of everything that happened around her and I don't go around causing that kind of trouble.

I know she probably isn't capable of thinking the way most people do, but it's still incredibly frustrating because all she seems to do is cause pain for everyone around her. Recently, during her last pregnancy, doctors said that both she and the baby almost didn't make it. They warned that if she got pregnant again, either she. or the child might die. And the only thought that crossed my mind was, well, in a couple of months, I might have to catch a flight for my sister's funeral.

Am I wrong for thinking like that? She isn't the sister I used to know. It feels like the sister I had died years before, before I moved to Spain. Even while typing this out, I feel nothing for her. Honestly, I believe my family back there would probably be better off without her. I don't want to ramble too long and drag it out so any questions, feel free to ask.

Let me know if you use this and thanks for your videos. It makes me feel like I'm not the only one in the world with a twisted mind. Lots of love, bro. I'm 21 and I'm going to die a horrible death. This is long. It's literally my life's story. I don't have a TLD. are maybe what the title says i guess plus more of these pain disease death i'm from albania originally

my family mom dad and i came to greece 20 years ago life wasn't that great but it was simple we are poor dad had slash has schizophrenia home life was rough on me and mom she divorced him when i was 12 he went back to albania now i didn't really talk to him that much i didn't really talk to him that much We lived with my mom after the divorce. Changed homes. Everything was fine. She was working. I was studying.

Not trying my best, but doing good. Fast forward to when I was 17. Last year, high school. My mom was in a relationship with a man who lived in England. She was happy. I was indifferent. But she was happy. It all started with a pain in her left arm.

She immediately thought it from back when my dad had strained it in one of his attacks. She had never gone to the doctor about it because of work. She just bandaged it herself and suffered through. Her pain was getting worse. Movement was getting worse. She couldn't work anymore cleaning houses. My mom went to rheumidologists, orthopedists, finally to neurologists. She was hospitalized. Was a bit of in and out. They couldn't find anything. We went on holiday. The two of us and her boyfriend who funded it, of course. We hadn't really gone on holidays before then.

She had problems walking, got tired easily. In one of her walks, her legs shakes so bad she fell. I thought, we thought it was her shoes. They were new, bought by her boyfriend. She wasn't really used to high heels. It wasn't the shoes. Back to the hospital. I was staying alone at home.

It was university at Minneton. its exam period. I got in the school I wanted. Great news. Call my mom who was at the hospital. She lit up. I could hear it in her voice. A week later, me and my uncle, her brother who lives in Greece, were called in the hospital. The three of us in the doctor's office, my mom got diagnosed with motor neuron disease. The neurologist didn't really tell all the details. He lied. It may leave and come back sometime in the future, maybe 10 years down the road. He didn't tell us how horrible it is. He didn't tell us my mom will die. That there is no cure currently, just trials. In fact, he didn't really help or guide me in any way. It was like she was never as patient.

I promised her I would take care of her, no matter what. I promised her something will turn out good for us. No way. In a year, so much can happen, Mom. We will look back and laugh. We will look back and everything will go fine day by day it was worse she was telling me and i was seeing it i tried to go to school to not upset her promise me you'll go to school you will study you are strong she said i try not to cry in front of her i cried every time on the way there and on the way back it was getting worse i couldn't bear the thought of going to school my mom was at home like that so i skipped a lot sometimes her boyfriend came stayed for a while He didn't live here, though. He left again to work.

Then my mom's mother came, my grandma. She helped around too. They all had planned for my mother to go to them, my grandparents in Albania, when things get even worse. She told me, No, I will take care of you, mom, no matter what. She was worried about my mental health. She was worried about me seeing her die.

She was worried about my school. The day came. We got her into our house. Albania. She would stay in my grandparents with them lived my mom's older brother, married with two children. I had to return back. I stayed with my mom's younger brother who lives in Greece, married too, with two children as well. I video called my mom every day. Her voice started to change. As her voice was getting worse, my soul was getting ripped apart. I went another time up there. She was having a lot of problems. Huge back pain.

couldn't even sit on the wheelchair, needed to rotate her when she slept. She couldn't really sleep. She was uncomfortable and in continuous pain. Around that time, she told us that she will need breathing support. We got it. She felt better. Around that time came her boyfriend too. We're all there.

He left a day before I did. She said, you are all leaving. Mom, we will always be there for you. always love you. Why did I go back to Greece? She was telling us her parents are getting on her nerves that she can't live another minute there. So grateful for my uncle's wife,

she was enormously helpful and kind to my mother there. Sometime later I was planning on going again. But as I surprised, I thought, I'll go at the end of the week. Friday. Attend my classes in lab and then stay for a long while. I had a hard time understanding my mom on the call those days. She also seemed in such a really worse mood

and complained about my grandparents. They were turning her insane, I thought to myself. Well, me surprising her might brighten her mood at least. Thursday. Phone call to my uncle. He was crying. He was calling his wife. He told me, we are leaving today.

I knew. I didn't ask. I was silent the whole drive. My uncle was speeding like a maniac. We got stopped, but he talked his way out of it. We are under my grandparents' house, felt like 200 people were on the balcony outside of the apartment floor.

I knew. An uncle of my mom's was waiting us down the hall. He took my hand. Be strong. Your mother will want you strong. She is not in a good condition. I didn't talk. We climbed the stairs slowly.

I entered the room slowly. A lot of women, old, young were sitting on the couch. I looked to my mom. She wasn't awake. Her eyelids were half open. She was hardly breathing. I told my grandma to make the people inside leave. She told me I can't.

You will. I talked to my mom. I hugged her, not tight because I remember she would be in pain or not breathe easily. I told her about my grade on math. I'd gotten to 10. I'll make you proud, Mom. I love you and always will. Please watch over me and I'll make you proud.

My grandma told me it's time to go. My uncles and my cousin took me to a cafe down the road. I lived with my uncle in Greece afterwards. For about a year, I changed schools, mechanical engineering to electrical and computer engineering. Let's make a change. I tried to be a bit more social. I found some new friends and through them met a wonderful girl.

So glad I changed schools. Second semester I moved to the dormitory To live alone Closed to school away from my uncle We got together with that girl We clicked from the moment we first talked Beautiful smart, funny School was hard but I didn't mind that much

I was doing great She was doing great too We were happy together Happy Third year First semester My uncle who lives in Albania Fell while he was working

He took a leave His leg kept getting worse He was fearing it was the same thing. Everyone reassured him otherwise. Me too. There's no way. It was already so rare for her. What kind of odds would it be?

She was 39 years old. It was the same thing. Five months ago, he died. I couldn't visit because of the pandemic. I still haven't. Third year. Second semester. This semester was really hard,

full of assignments and work. Every single day, work and pressure. The semester ended. Exam period was starting. We still had assignments due, though, 4 a.m. 3 months ago, about to say good night to my lovely girlfriend. My left hand trembles like crazy. For what seemed like 10 minutes, definitely way less. I took a video sent it to her.

Don't worry about it, honey. If it still persists, we'll see about it. Don't search symptoms like you do. We said good night. I googled hand tremor. Long list of causes. anxiety, stress, blood pressure, etc. Well, I've been really stressed.

At the very end of the list, ALS. I dropped my phone. I try not to think about it. I had a panic attack. I called her. She came almost immediately. I love her. I want to marry her, I'm saying to myself.

I noticed my pinky falling, and I got more scared. Touching things and lifting them felt different. I knew. My girlfriend kind of moved in with me. I went to a lot of neurologists, to a lot. They all did clinical examinations, didn't see anything. They all thought it was psychosomatic, that I was afraid because of family history.

I didn't ever think of the possibility of me getting it now, though. I didn't even know the possibility of me having the same gene was 50%. I had an EMG, turned out fine, had MRIs, blood test turned out fine. I hoped otherwise, so something other than that would be the cause. Everyone around me started to believe it was in my head too. It drove me crazy. Almost every day I was thinking of going to a doctor.

Let's get this over with. I was seeing myself get worse every day. Every day, some muscle was spasying out. My wonderful girlfriend, the love of my life, was with me the whole time. I don't know what I would do without her. Two weeks ago, I had a second EMG. still fine. Then five days ago had a clinical examination.

It took longer. I could hear the doctor's frustration. I could see that everything was worse. Even my facial muscles, scariest part. We had planned vacations. We were supposed to leave out at the 25th. Four days from now. We were happy.

I was happy. I love her with all my heart. I'm 21, and I have ALS. This happened almost 17 years ago, but it still lingers in my head to this day. I was a new therapist, fresh out of grad school, barely 26, working in a community mental health clinic. I was eager, idealistic, and a little naive. I believed everyone could change, especially if they wanted to. His name was David. He was 34.

Court ordered therapy after an incident with his girlfriend, nothing too specific. in the paperwork, just domestic disturbance and anger management required. When I met him, he seemed quiet, calm, sad even. He talked about his childhood, his dad hitting him, the drinking. He said he wanted to be better. That he never meant to hurt her. He just got angry. He cried in one of our first sessions, told me he hated himself for what he did.

I believed him. I didn't report him. I could have. There were things he said that should have triggered a mandatory report, but he always found a way to soften it, to reframe it. I thought he was self-aware. I thought he was trying. Three months in, the court lifted his mandate. He'd been consistent, calm, cooperative, no red flags, at least not on paper. They asked if I believed he was fit to leave therapy. I said yes. I signed the discharge papers. In our final session, He shook my hand and said, Thanks for not giving up on me. I smiled, told him he was ready. But even then, something in his body language felt off, and I ignored it.

Three weeks later, I saw his name in the news. He'd killed her. Not in a fit of rage. He strangled her while she was sleeping, sat next to her for hours before turning himself in. I don't remember much of from that day. I remember staring at my computer screen, reading the article over and over, wanting for it to change.

I told my supervisor everything. She said I followed procedure, that I wasn't responsible. But here's the part I've never said out loud. He told me he was going to do it. Not directly, not clearly, but in one of our last sessions, he said something I keep replaying in my head. He said, sometimes I think the only way to stop being the monster is to make sure no one ever sees me again. And I knew what he meant. I felt it. So I nodded and said something

soft, therapeutic. I thought I was helping. I wasn't. After the murder, I was questioned and investigated. The court wanted to know if I had failed, if my decision to discharge David played a role in what happened. They went through everything, my notes, our sessions, the reports I'd written. Their own experts evaluated him afterward. They diagnosed him with ADHD, borderline personality disorder, narcissistic traits, and possibly psychopathy. It all made sense, in hindsight. But during our sessions, I saw none of that. No signs, no outbursts, no manipulation I could recognize. He was focused, respectful, careful with his words. He made me believe he was controlling his anger better. I told the court that he manipulated me, that I had truly believed he was rehabilitated.

I lied. I saw signs, not of mental disorders, but signs that I should have reported. And as I said it, I looked at David for the last time. He was calm. He looked back at me and smiled. He was sentenced to life in a psychiatric hospital. If you're asking for the motive, I don't know. Might have been because she called the police the day he hit her. Might have been for revenge, but for such a deranged person, it wouldn't surprise me if he killed her for the satisfaction. I know where the girlfriend parents live. I know their names. I even know where her graveside is, but I've never had the gut to tell them. To tell them, I was a part of her murder. I still have the article files in my drawer. I want to throw them away, but I can't. I still blame myself.

every day because I knew he wasn't rehabilitated. I might not have been the one who killed her, but I let him walk out free. I signed the papers. I cleared him. David is currently dead. He committed S-word by overdosing on his medicine a long time ago. Hey, this is difficult for me to share, as it's my first time opening up like this. I appreciate your videos. They often provide comfort when I'm trying to relax or fall. asleep. I'm writing about the significant trauma I experienced in school. While it might sound like the typical bullying, it escalated into abuse. And I'm recounting this quickly, so it might seem disjointed. And thank you for those kind words. I really appreciate it. On to your story. It began when close

friends shared something about me. I'm unsure of the details, but it seemed minor initially. I thought having other friends would buffer any negative impact. However, another student spread malicious lies about me, falsely accusing me of manipulated my friends. These rumors unfortunately reached my new circle, and it was devastating to see how easily a fabrication could change their perception of me. Isolated and without friends, I became a target for this same student to bully and tormented me during lunch. Seeking connection, I gravitated towards students from a school club unique to our school. We formed close bonds, and their acceptance was a refuge. They dismissed the rumors, their absurdity, how could I possibly be capable of such things? It's important to note that I was

already dealing with personal struggles, including the loss of other friendships and a sense of neglect from the school regarding these issues. This likely made me seem withdrawn or different, and unfortunately, I lost another friend during this time, though not directly due to the rumors. As months passed, I began to feel a growing distance from the very people who had become my lifeline, sadness and loneliness overwhelmed me, but I suppressed these feelings, terrified of losing my only support system, my only reason to keep going. I felt like I was clinging to a fragile threat, and inevitably, it snapped. During a hangout, my friends wanted to speak with the student who had started the rumors. Afterwards, she relayed to me that they hated me and no longer

wanted to associate with me. My heart shattered. The people I trusted implicitly had seemingly never truly cared. I left, heartbroken and crying, and sought help from someone who, instead of offering support, blamed me for the situation. This crushed any remaining hope I had. I no longer wanted to live. The following days were a torment. The pain wasn't just from the bullying, but from the deeper abuse I felt at the hands of both students in the school's indifference. I struggled to trust anyone, yet I was too naive to realize how rapidly the rumors were spreading. One day after math class, I attempted to take my own life in the bathroom. But something stopped me.

With the school year ending, the thought of summer offered a sliver of hope. I can find in my parents, and they agreed to let me transfer schools. The following school year brought a change of scenery, but the memories of the hurtful words and actions persisted. I made wonderful new friends, yet the negative thoughts intensified. Daily, I would break myself thinking it's my fault, or I should go back and apologize. At times, these thoughts would estimate.

to I should end it all to stop my pain and theirs, or even vengeful thoughts of hurting those who had hurt me. Guilt, anger, and pain became significant obstacles to moving forward. I realized these intense thoughts were often triggered at lunch, the place where so much of the trauma had occurred. I discussed this with my psychiatrist and received a diagnosis of PTSD. The desire for revenge was strong, but I couldn't bring myself to act on it. So I turn the pain inward, engaging in self-harm both physically and emotionally. Even now, the pain persists and has worsened. I'm tormented by the desire to undo the arguments with my initial friends,

or even to harm them for what they did. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Caught between the urge for them to suffer, the desire to end my own life, or simply succumbing to all in myself. I have a plan for ending my life, but the thought of my current caring friends is holding me back. my old friends found me on social media and we had another argument. It has stopped for now, but I don't know how much longer I can enter this. And thank you for sharing this story.

I just hope you get better. And thank you for being vulnerable. And yeah, I mean, with all the stories in this video or all the confessions in this video, just talk to somebody. You'll feel better. Don't hold it all in. and it's good that you told, you know, I mean, at least somebody, me, and it'll be shared to everyone who's watching this video,

and maybe it'll be, you know, relatable to some people. And, I mean, we've heard it numerous times in this video, but things get better. Just talk to somebody, please. We all want to see you thrive. You will. Things will get better, 100%. Keep going.

Keep fighting the good fight. And you've got this. Thank you so much for sharing this confession. And thank you. Much love. My four-year-old son is autistic and I hate him. I hate being a parent. I hate everything about this. I'm so tired of having to deal with that all. The tantrums, the lack of comprehension, the aggression, and the inability of us being unable to do anything or go anywhere because of him. I hate him. I hate my son. I know a lot of people will hate me for this, but I truly just want to get it off my chest

without anyone who knows me knowing. I want to finally spill all the beans and get it out here and I'm hoping this will be cathartic for me. I already know I need personal mental help. Alas, no monies for that. People will also suggest getting him help as well. No money for that either.

Though he already is in a local state-sponsored two-and-a-half-hour daily program for kids with disabilities. It's helping, but it only goes so far. There are many things I despise in the world from politics to health care, or their lack of, to business practices to just people in general. I also love many things around here, so no, I'm not a grumpy old man who just hates anyone and everything. There are even people I'd be oh so happy to cease up for a slow and painful death.

but there is one thing I would never wish on them. A child with autism. I'll start off by saying I truly don't know how single parents and happy slash good parents with kids with disabilities do it. I truly do not understand how you have so much strength to get through the day and still be in one piece mentally. I wish I knew how. Today, all I wanted to do was something seemingly simple

and it even started off well. Go fuel up the car, then walk around to. a bit to get the coffee. He had fun in the car, but as soon as the car ride was over, and we had to go left instead of going right, the tantrums, screaming, scratching, pinching, and all started. He wanted this instead of that, more tantrums, right instead of left next time. And worse and worse. All I wanted was a damn cup of fresh coffee that I didn't have to brew myself. We, wife and I, work from home. In a decent amount of time, we have to spend dealing with him. I use that word specifically as it's not the, oh cool, that's a cool car you have. Let's play a bit. Not that kind of

stuff. It's the, for the thousandth time, do not stab the dog with his stick. Please play with the bouncing ball, not against my head. Again, we've talked about this a million times. Do not touch the audio equipment, and on and on and on. I'm getting tired of having to repeat the exact same very simple things over and over and over day in and day out. You might say, but dad with an autistic kid, kids don't understand stuff, you have to be nicer to them. They'll get it. I hear you.

But there is only so many times at this stage you can repeat the simplest of things without getting frustrated. Be it how to put on shoes, just putting them on, not tying them. We need to go right instead of straight. This is how we go up the stairs. Please wait here for five seconds while I order coffee. I'm tired. I should have never been a dad.

This truly has been the worst decision of my life, and I regret everything about it, save for a few minor points here and there. These four years have been horrible and only getting worse, and it's largely because of him. Logically speaking, it's not because of him. It's just my perception and view of the world in which I cause myself to get angry on things that I should not such as his inability or ability to come. comprehend differently than us. Logically, sure.

Emotionally, this took an hour to type up. I'm trying to get better. I'm trying not to get mad. I'm trying not to yell at him. I just can't help but be frustrated and yell at him sometimes. I know it's wrong and there's no excuse for me acting the way I am. I feel like shit for yelling at him and dragging him home while he was wailing because he wanted to go that way and I wanted to go home.

home so I can go back to work. He doesn't understand the stressed of work, of time, of other people's desire slash needs. I understand he doesn't comprehend most of what we're doing, both because of age and because of his autism. And it breaks my heart seeing all these normal kids, his age, doing normal things. And he just doesn't get it. And probably never will. I feel like a failure for having a kid like that. I feel like a failure for not being a better and good enough father.

Parent and man, to be able to help him properly. I just don't. We're currently back home and to try to make it up to him, he's gotten some hugs. Some of his favorite juice and I turned on his favorite Lego game.

So whoever you people are at Nintendo and Lego who make your games accessible to kids, whoever you are, thank you very much. Without you, what I'd do. The Lego games are always fun and we figured he'd like the Lego City game and he adores it. It's the first real video game he's played and pretty much the first thing other than just cars and trains he's truly played with. Thank you. And yes, for those wondering, he and I do

play it together sometimes in the evenings or on weekends. As for now, I'm going to sit in a corner, drink my coffee and cry and think about how shitty of a dad I am. Am I the worst father out there? No. That type of comparison doesn't help me. No matter what. I always end up comparing myself to parents with normal kids. My wife already knows what I think of him, though she doesn't know I hate him.

She will never know. Whatever I do, I know I need to be better and do better. At least to round this off on a few pop. positive notes. Writing this out has helped clear my sinuses out a bit as well as being a good load off of my shoulders. The school program he is in has helped me immensely since he has started as he's now able to put several words together into a mini-sentence with some prompting and direction. He is getting surprisingly better, rather quickly at video games, so I hope to find more he can play soon. He does like cars, so I'm going to try to find city-oriented ones,

though I hear the new Yoshi game is nice. Maybe he'll like it. I don't know. I think they have a demo to try. My mother helps out sometimes which is amazing when she's able to. And when times are good, things are sometimes kind of fun with him around.

I hope he can be both my gaming and hiking buddy in the future. Thanks for reading. Evening Edit. Thank you everyone for all your kind words and suggestions. I've never even considered contacting a disability services forum. local community, such as the church groups, and local fellow parents with kids who need help groups. You'll be pleased to know I've given him extra hugs, kind words, snuggles, and playtime.

We both calm down a lot. Many of your heartfelt messages truly made me tear up, thank you. Tomorrow I'll be looking into local disability services, and since it's a day off from school, good Friday, I'll take some time off of work and walk around with them, weather permitting, or play a lot with them. I will be heading for to bed now. Thank you all very much, truly. Everything you've all written has given me a lot to think about. Thank you.

And good night. I'm in love with two women. It all started about four years ago. There was a girl. We'll call her Beth, not the real name. I was talking to her, and we got very close, but we got into a fight one day over something trivial. My best friend at the time took this opportunity

and swooped in and got with her the day after. So I stopped talking to her and worked on myself. Flash floored to a year later, and they broke up and me and Beth started talking again a few months after they broke up. I know it sounds bad, but I was head over heels for her. Eventually, we started hanging out again, but she did not want to pursue a relationship. As her and my old friend got into a huge argument and she just didn't feel comfortable being in a romantic relationship. This confused me because we would do couple stuff. We would cuddle and watch movies. go out on dates and have very deep conversations about romantic stuff, but she was also doing these things with two other guys at the time, so I didn't know how to feel. Eventually, I felt like I wanted

something that she didn't, so I cut it off. Well, I was a local lifeguard, and one of her friends and I hit it off. We talked every day and got super close. We went on a few dates, but nothing really came of it. We'll call her June, not real name. Eventually, Beth said she wanted to just be with me, For the last three years, we have been dating, but during that time, June and I were still very close friends. I'm ashamed to say that I still have romantic feelings for June, and while I haven't talked to her or Beth about it, Beth said she can see the way June looks at me, so I sort of cut it off. But ever since doing that, I can't stop thinking of June, being she was there during a hard part of my life, and we still talk from time to time.

But I can tell her spark is probably long gone, and I still deeply love both of them. I would really appreciate any advice you have, and thank you for reading my story. I often listen to you while trucking, and I have brought so much joy to my days. Anonymous. And hey, man, thank you so much for sharing this. I appreciate it, and thank you so much for the kind words, too. I'm glad I can help you out in those long trucking days, and yeah, it's just great to hear that. I bring some joy to you.

And this seems like a, you know, complicated situation, and you're kind of split between two people. and in a way it's kind of past and present, I feel like June represents a connection and a what-if that never really happened. And Beth is the person you kind of chose after a long, rocky road. And you're just unsure which one is best for you. And, you know, that's a tough situation to be in. But my advice is, I think, just try to be honest with yourself first before talking to anybody. who do you love more or who do you think you love more or like more? And do you see yourself with a long-term relationship with Beth still, even though June and you kind of have a thing going on? Well, that always being the back of your mind. I think that's something you kind of need to confront with

yourself first. And then don't stay in the relationship if you're not happy. Beth is your girlfriend now. I assume. And I think she deserves to kind of know how you feel or also just deserves to feel emotionally full from you almost. Like you are all of her attention almost and not split between two people. And I don't know if she noticed that or not, but you know, it's important to not still have June or another person lingering in your mind. And I think one thing that might be hard for you or hard to do is kind of communicate. I don't think you need to, you know, drop a truth bomb to Beth and kind of destroy everything, but I think you need to talk with June or Beth and kind of get some closure because I think

right now, both relationships, or at least June, it's still open in your mind and there's still a possibility, and that needs closure. And that kind of goes back to the first thing I said, you need to just be honest with yourself and kind of realize what you want. I mean, keeping up with the both of them will never, you know, never be the answer for the long run. So I think you need to figure out who you love more, who you see being in a relationship with more. And just once you do kind of figure that out, bring some closure to either or relationship. And yeah, like I said, you can't have both.

So you need to kind of bring some closure to yourself, June and Beth possibly. but that's just kind of my advice. I don't know if this is just a bunch of rambling or I don't know if it's good advice, but I wish you all the best, man. That sucks that you're kind of split between two, but I totally understand it, and best of luck, and be safe on the road.

Hi, Snook, I've been watching your videos for a while now. What you do is amazing, and just imagining how much work you put into this gives me goosebumps. I wish all the worst to my grandmother, and I don't regret it. I'm a 17-year-old girl, and English is not my first language.

Ever since I was little, my grandmother, my father's mother, has been a terrible person. I come from a small family, myself, my dad, my mom, and a brother with a severe disability, grade one handicap. When I was young, my grandmother used to send us money so my dad could take care of me and my brother, but she constantly spoke badly about my mom. In 2017, my mom passed away when I was nine years old. I was then moved to live with one of my mom's sisters, and my depression got even worse. After my dad found out about my first Sward attempt, he moved me back home, where I lived with my grandmother.

Unfortunately, my dad was working abroad, so he wasn't home very often. My grandmother took out her hatred on me because my dad had fallen in love with my mom, a woman of Roma, gypsy, and ethnicity. She kept me locked inside the house. If I wanted to go outside, I had to lie and say I was doing something for school. Mental abuse was an everyday thing. She constantly manipulated and insulted me. If a cup wasn't put back in its place, it would turn into a full-blown punishment. She would humiliate me in an awful ways for even the smallest mistakes.

At school, I was bullied because she didn't give me money for personal hygiene. I had to wash my own clothes in the sink. My depression got even worse when she kicked me out of the house. She falsely accused me of stealing 100 Ron, about 20 euros, and we had a big argument. That was the first time I stood up to her. and when I fought back, more aggressively than she expected, she kicked me out. I lived in my high school's dormitory for a year, surviving only on my school scholarship. Now I live with her again, but she acts more peaceful because my dad cut contact with her for a while due to her abuse.

She's pretended to be a loving grandmother now, just to get back in its good graces. I try to make this a short story. Thank you. Hey Snook, sorry if this is pretty sloppy, I'm typing this on my phone. So when I was younger, about six or seven, I had to be. this cat named Alvin, and he was a little fella, and he stuck with me everywhere, but one night I let him out, and you know, I was a bad kid. I would torture him because I thought it was funny, so when I woke up that morning, it was mad cold, so I had dunked him in underwater for fun, which is terrible, I don't do that anymore, and I left him alone, and I came outside and

saw him on my soccer net. He had strangled himself, and I just watched, I feel terrible to this day. Hey, Snook, I'll start off by telling you what you already know. You've done. You've done. done us a great favor by providing us with a platform to express our troubles. Your videos have helped me get through exams, and I actively wait for each new job. Excuse any mistakes I make as English is not my first language. Now to my sins. In a previous video viewers, mentions the confession of a fellow viewer about its dark, murderous tendencies, which prompted me to share mine. Firstly, let me clear this. There is barely any rule of law where I live, and at the time this incident took place, thieves and criminals of this sort ruled my city. It got to the extent that

any time my theft was caught, they were burned alive. Horrible, I know, but it was necessary. About two years ago, an incident occurred with my mother. A thief held her at gunpoint and stole her purse. He was however caught in the other street. I was in my house sleeping when I heard about the incident. I immediately got up and ran to her as fast as I could. She was like a street to her way. And there she was, crying. Just then, the thief. who was probably high, screamed how he was going to R-word her and her daughters, and that's when I snapped. I picked him up by his collar and started beating the fuck out of him. At first, no one stopped me. They understood my frustration, and I didn't stop either. I kept going. Punch after punch,

first his teeth broke, then I heard his jaw crack, and after that, I have no memory. The next thing I remember was my mother slapping me and screaming at me. I turned to look around and saw the man I was beaten up, was beaten up to a pulp, blood all over the place, and as you may have guessed, he was dead. This was two years ago, and to this day I do not regret what happened. If I could, I would do it all again a thousand times over and another thousand times after that. Am I fucked in the head? Absolutely. Do I wish I wasn't like this? Again, absolutely. The incident had impacted my life severely. Some sympathized with me, while others severed all. all connections with me. As for the legal proceedings, the authorities couldn't give half a fuck

that a drug addict was killed, whether there was now a murderer roaming free amongst the people. But in my opinion, all this was needed. There were innocent people murdered in cold blood all for a phone worth maybe 30 bucks. I hope this makes it to one of your videos so that I may have an opinion of people who don't have a bias for me. It will love to hear what you've got to say too. And once again, thank you for all you do for us. I hope your channel grows and achieves the fame. deserves. Thank you for sharing, man. I really appreciate it. And thank you so much for the kind words. But I don't think you're monster. That is a horrific situation you got put in. And your mother's life was put at stake. Your family's life was put at stake. And everything was just, you know,

a high stress situation. And I can't say I would have acted any differently than you. That is a horrific situation that I hope everyone listening doesn't have to endure. But I can't blame you for how you acted. I mean, who knows what that guy could have done. He would have made threats against you. He made threats against your family. He made threats against your mother. He robbed your mother. And, you know, you lost some friends. People called you a monster. But what if you never, you know, did what you did? I don't think you meant to kill him. You know, who knows? But I appreciate you sharing. And like I said, I really don't think you're a monster. Thank you so much for sharing, but you're put in a self-defense situation,

and I don't know any other route you could have taken. You know, if you want, I'd recommend talking to somebody about this. That's a heavy way to hold to yourself and just talk about how you feel to just people around you. That's an important thing. And like I said, thank you so much for sharing. I really appreciate it. And everyone watching, please leave your feedback to this guy down below. I'm sure he'd appreciate it.

And thank you so much again. On to the next one. Hey, Snook, please keep this anonymous and feel free to censor what you need for YouTube. I'll do my best to keep this brief, but I've been a long-time viewer, and while I normally wouldn't bother you with such an offbeat confession, but I met a woman recently who said my story helped give her hope for the future, so maybe someone else in your audience will feel the same. Here it is.

I'm a 37-year-old woman who has only fallen in love for the very very. first time. Doesn't sound like much, but women of my generation and my part of the world and probably all others, but I don't want to speak to what I don't know about, are told from a young age about the power and importance of love. We hear it in every song, she'd in every movie, and I was right up there with all of the other girls, playing princess and getting all dolled up to meet Prince Charming. For some contexts, I did grow up in a pretty rough household. The examples of love that I knew were people who would insult you, hit you, take every penny you worked for, and then say I love you. So once puberty hit, I excitedly waited to get my first crush. It was happening to all the other

girls. They would obsess about a boy in our class or a celebrity or even a teacher sometimes and giggle and swoon like really young girls do. They'd asked me who I liked and sometimes I'd lie and say there was someone picking a random guy we know, but honestly, I just never felt it. There were a few guys who got crushes on me and I accepted their offer for a few dates, but it wouldn't last long because I didn't want to lead them on what they could find someone who returned their feelings. This led to a violent stalking incident that lasted most of my teen years, but that's a story for another time. It wasn't for a lack of socializing either. Every summer I would have to go live with another family a few towns over and help work at their business and help around their house

for room and board. I had three days off a week where I could go party with the other teens, and I was always meeting new people, but even when they were nice or attractive, I still didn't like them. Eventually, rumors started to spread that I must be a lesbian. Rather than take this as an insult it was intended to be, no offense to the LGBT community, my violent soccer was hoping that the rumors would pressure me into trying to prove I'm not and date him because, in his mind, if I just gave him one more chance, I'd seen how nice and awesome he is and fall in love. I started to think maybe I was. I hadn't any crushes on women either, but maybe I was in denial or something and just had to open

myself up to the idea. So when I moved out my late teens, I started going out with both men and women. I think I may have even started developing feelings for one of the women I'd been seen for about a week, but then she revealed she had a boyfriend and wanted all three of us to be together, and I noped out. If I can't even develop feelings for one person, it sure is how it wasn't going to happen with two at the same time. For years after, I threw myself into my work, into video games, into drinking, and into cultivating some deep and meaningful friendships. I'd still go on a lot of dates, especially with the advent of online dating and apps, but among my friends, it became the running joke that I was the queen of first dates. It was hard. I see why so many people settle for a partner who they may not

love. As I left my 20s, I threw out any thoughts of having kids or any kind of big white wedding. all my friends got married, and I was right there, helping them plan, throwing the bachelettes, and standing in their wedding parties. I was a little jealous, but always very happy for them. As I got into my 30s, the dating scene got wild. I'd regale my friends with tales of being catfished, getting ghosted in some insanely awkward moments. I don't care how nervous you are. Don't bring your mom to a first date. I'd open my dating pool so wide at that point that there was no consistently whatsoever. People of all gender, shape, sizes, personality types, anything. If you had a fun profile and weren't mean or a creep over the chat, then, I'd be open to a first date. I even went out with

people I didn't really have anything in common because, who knows? If we had a first fun date, maybe I'd find myself thinking about them the next day, and maybe I'd finally catch those feelings. Now, this may all sound nuts, but I'm not saying I'm a prize myself. I've been rejected slash dumped for all types of reasons, from my personality to my hobbies, to my looks. But my main point is that even in the relationships where I liked my partner as a person, as a friend, I've never cried when it ended because I just didn't feel anything deeper than that. And then I met him. I'm nearing the end of my 30s. The internet as a whole has been screaming at me that I've lost most of my value at this point, and even my sisters are telling me I should wait a few years

until all the men have had their kids and are divorcing their wives. Nah, fuck that. I decided to keep rolling the dice because the next date can't possibly get worse than the last. I really didn't need him to list off the reasons his ex was more physically attractive than me, and when I tell you that persistence paid off, I didn't just get lucky. I hit the jackpot. We laughed all night, not the nervous laughter of two strangers hoping the alcohol hit soon, and can breathe normally again, but genuine laughter.

We talked about our lives, our jobs, comic books, video games, workout routines, I mean, everything. And he was honest. He looked like his pictures. He spoke intelligently about the subjects he's listed being interested in. He was honest about his employment and type of work. All of it. It was all real. In my heart, to this day, almost exactly a year since we started dating, still skips a beat when I talk about him. What's amazing, though, isn't just how I feel about him, but also how he makes me feel about myself. All the flaws within me that my family says makes me hard to love. All the parts of my previous partners have tried to change and all the things about me that make my friends cringe are all things he loves. It took a lot of lonely years, a lot of self-reflection and a lot of not

settling for someone who wanted to change me to fit their ideal, but I did. I found someone who I love of everything about, and he loves everything about me. No masks, no putting on airs, no hiding flaws or farts. So for all those out there still looking, still waiting through the trenches of dating naps or bars, for those facing down their ends of their teens, their 20s or even their 30s, just know that it's not too late. Your life has its own timeline and just because it's taken you a bit longer doesn't mean you're broken or incapable of love. Just keep trying, stay safe and remember that even if it's not a great date, it can at least make a good story to tell your forever partner when you find them.

young, I made a completely bogus calls of the police that my sister was hurting me, all just because I was mad at her. It resulted in her being institutionalized for the remainder of her junior year and a large portion of her senior year in high school. She had some problems, but what I had detailed to the police was fully false. Oh, also, I once brought alcohol to school in disguise of a coffee cup, did shots of 99 proof in the bathroom at school, and I've done a line of booger sugar in the school bathroom. Anyways, nothing too crazy to see here. Bye. My wife of 13 years confessed about an affair about three months ago. She told me the day after our anniversary that they had intimacy often. I don't know what to do. The title pretty much explains it

all. I am a stay-at-home data three, including one with special needs. For the past couple of years, it's been a slog. Therapist after therapist after therapist for my kiddo with cerebral palsy. Two other kids in school, it's something we discussed many times. She works and is able to provide for us financially, and I would stay home with them. Two years ago, she joined a gym and began a relationship with John. John and my wife would frequently message on Facebook about random things. but things that my wife tried to hide and delete.

She has lied about speaking to him, what they've spoken about, amongst other things. We are done having kids, so she used this time to get a breast augmentation and tummy tuck-like procedure. It felt like she was literally going to cheat on me, but she assured me that this was just her way of getting out of her motherhood body. She spends an unworldly amount of time at the gym. Before work, off days, literally doesn't stop. She can easily spend three to four hours at the gym. Meanwhile, I am at home with the kids, preparing lunch, breakfast, getting them to school, taking my child with cerebral palsy to his therapy appointments.

Things start to get worse. I find that I'm getting more frustrated with feeling like a sudden. single parent while she is just living her dream life at the gym and building a career. She feels like I'm treating her unfairly and takes her rings off last summer. She didn't tell me about it, but she is stating that we are separated, but no ground rules are laid out. She continues to live her life with her rings off, without any sort of discussion. We were definitely in a slump. My skepticism of her and John's relationship continues.

But we hit hills and valleys in our relationship. It feels that sometimes it improves, and some days it feels like it wasn't going to work. We had laid out some rules about this guy, and I asked her to delete him from her phone and block him. They can't communicate at the gym since she's there so much, but nowhere else. Flash forward to June. I found a text message thread while I tried fixing her phone with a random number. It was messages upon messages of hers and John's relationship. Mind you, this guy is married as well.

My suspicions for over two years was true. I knew she was cheating on me. I flipped down. I was so upset. She said they didn't have any physical contact except for holding hands and hugging. She was extremely adamant that that was it. things didn't feel like they would get better, but eventually they kind of did over a couple of months. That, or maybe I was missing, who my wife was.

I don't know, but it felt that an emotional affair was easier to forgive. I told her I forgave her and that we recommitted of making this work. It felt like we were more normal than ever, and she was being open and honest about my questions that I had. The day after her anniversary, she drops a bombshell. She actually was physical in her affair. They had intimacy, an unknown amount of times, in his car while she was at work. She says they wore protection. I am so mortified.

I already grieved for her once, but now I put through another round of mental torment and physical PTSD. she lied again. She said she didn't have intimacy with him initially, but now she wanted to lay it out. She says the last time they had intimacy was in April. I don't know what to believe. She says she felt insanely lonely. I asked her why not just get a divorce. And she said that she never had that intention and that she, quote,

care so deeply for our family and kids. It feels so contradictory. She had intimacy with this guy while also having intimacy with me occasionally, and she didn't feel the need to tell me that I'm literally banging her after this guy was. Jesus Christ. Typing this out makes me want to die. I am using an alt account, but I have details that would make this story more clear, but I do not want to tie it in to some personal information, as I think I'd be pretty easily identified by my profession. and personal posts. She states she is utterly remorseful and wants to work things out.

I literally just got myself tested for STDs today. I would have never thought I would have to do this, but here I am. I am out of lost, guys. I'm a mid-30s dad of three, and it feels like my life is fucking over. My kids keep me grounded. And now let's get into some of the time. top comments. One user quotes, Care so deeply for our family and kids. And then the comments or replies to that saying

three to four hours at the gym every day. When is she even home to care so deeply about the kids? And the O.P replies saying, this is exactly my point. She literally goes to the gym in the early morning, but sometimes doesn't get home until kids are on the bus. I would hate to miss waving them off. I wave them off every morning. One user comments, first things first, you should make an appointment with a lawyer and a marriage counselor if you so choose. Have them both spell out your options as well as what custody looks like. That's where you can work from as your base. Everything has failed and we're getting a divorced spot.

Next step is to figure out, do you actually want to reconcile? Has your wife actually shown you any form of forgiveness? Does her a fair partner's wife know? I would personally make that a condition that the wife has to know before anything else happens. If your wife tries to defend him, tell her and no uncertain terms that you guys are over if she tries to defend him whatsoever.

She has to choose you versus him and ask to actually do the work. She has basically had a, she gets to do whatever she wants while you maintain the house lifestyle and that needs to change. You need a social life and the whole reason that she had enough time to go cheat was that you were maintaining everything at home while she could get off scot free and do whatever the hell she wanted. The fact is that she chose him over you multiple times and you have to tell her that is what she did. Does she recognize the enormity of what she did by choosing to step out of your marriage multiple times, including around your anniversary? Does she realize that she was giving you sloppy seconds? Whether or not she was actually doing that? That is the actual effect of what she did.

She has to realize that she did not choose you and chose herself. Honestly, I would also have a big problem with forgiveness because how many times did she turn you down for emotional and physical intimacy while providing it to someone else outside of the marriage. How much time did she spend it outside of your marriage with somebody else due to the direct efforts that you have put in to keep your family going? Did she not realize that the only reason she had time to do anything was your sacrifice? I would say this for any gender, but this is selfish. I just want to let you know your pain. is justified and frankly, I don't know if she wants to rug sweep and move on, but I don't know

exactly how she's shown remorse and what effort she's actually putting in in order to move your relationship back to a trusting one. Any thoughts? And then the OPR reply is saying, I'm reading through this. I will add. When I found said text messages, the first thing she said was, quote, she cares about him, which really pissed me off. She should care about me as her husband. She finally has told him no more contact, and she blocked him on every platform, and said that she is willing to have an open device policy. I do think this is extremely remorseful, at least right now.

He has made some suggestive comments as a way to make her feel bad. She did put her rings back on, and the guy wants to recognize. reconciled to me as well, aka he reached out to me on Instagram and I immediately blocked his dumbass. Another user says, I've said this before on this sub that if my spouse was the one to come clean about an affair, I'd be likely to try to work it out, but this is just, this is just a disaster. If you decide to stay, and that's a big if, number one, couples counseling, number two, quitting the gym. Number three, spending time with her newly available free time with the kids she allegedly cares deeply for. But this all hinges on one question. Do you even want to work things out? Seriously, ignore everything I just suggested. Ignore any stay, leave crucifier in the divorce or other comments.

Take some time and really ask yourself, do you want to try to try to work this out? And then a comment replies that saying, thank you for putting this question into words that I've been trying to do myself in another thread. The real question is, what is she doing to want to make them stay? And the OPE replies saying, that's what I'm thinking. From the beginning, I'm convinced she had a plan or deep intention, but she says things just kind of fell that way. Yeah, right. She says they were just friends first, but if that's the case, why did she delete all of her messages from him when I first saw them? That first happened like one and a half years ago. This has been shitty

since the start. Another user comments, your mistake was thinking any sort of affair would be less harmfully. An affair is an affair, regardless getting physical or not. Have you wondered why did she have this surge of honesty so suddenly? I imagine her affair has gone sour. She's afraid being dumped by you and is trying to keep you around. I won't be the one to tell you how you should take on your life, O.P., you are the only one who knows how hard this hurts you and how bad you are right now. However, I'd recommend you to take your feelings in consideration this time.

May you find the inner strength, take the best decision for your happiness and for your emotional health. And the O.P replies saying, you're not wrong. Things did get sour after I found these texts. She immediately ceased that relationship and blocked him. I think that's why she wants to start fresh and continue our relationship. She has given me contradictory information that it only happened because she was separated and she was extremely lonely.

but then she said she doesn't want to leave her family and that we mean so much to her. I asked her plainly, did you think about us when you were banging in his car? And then we don't hear an update for a long time. About three months, but then three months later, the OPE comes back and gives us an update. Let's get into it.

Mild update. My wife of 13 years confessed about an affair about three months ago. She told me the day after our anniversary that they had intimacy often. I debated on whether or not I really wanted to write an update or not. Life has been really a whirlwind of emotion since that point. For all those people who gave me encouragement and advice, I really appreciate you more than you know. We sought counseling pretty much ASAP since all this shook out,

which has been a somewhat positive experience, I think, for both of us. Overall, this update is really boring, but maybe I need an outlet right now because I'm feeling it hard today. Generally speaking, things just are right now. Some days feel more hopeful than others, but we are decently committed to making this work out for now, especially given our situation with our kids, specifically our son.

Our therapy sessions tend to work on our communication and forward progress. It's hard not to gripe or look for some sort of validation of my frustrations with my wife about how things shook out or what I experienced. Although she's entitled to her feelings about how I approached their relationship in the beginning, which she swears was merely friendly in the beginning. Although the more I think about it, the more it feels like I'm being gaslit by my wife and maybe a little bit by our therapist. I generally do not have a problem with my wife having male friends.

And even when we were having a hard time, I felt that I made my boundary extremely clear. Initially, when they were just friends, she would message him like regularly, going into topics that felt boundary crossing. In this, she says they were just friends. But now, I don't think I'm comfortable with her having friends like that again. And I told her that. I am a little upset because reflecting on things now makes me feel like both my wife and our therapist made it seem I'm letting my anxiety get the best of me.

We have moved toward an open device policy, really on her end. We have set new boundaries about relationships and maintaining these relationships. Although now that I read and typed this out, I really feel like I'm giving more than what she ever had to, even though she's the one who decided to pursue a runaway relationship with another man. She states she didn't feel safe in our marriage and pursued this relationship. I'm so conflicted on how to feel about everything as I typed this. I am learning to rebuild my trust in her.

I need to feel safe again. I want to feel like this was her character flaw, rather than a reaction to how she felt I treated her. She says that she felt unsafe, frustrated, unloved. I'm not saying those things aren't untrue because she is entitled to her own feelings, but it feels like an excuse. Things were rocky for a while, but she feels that we were not doing well before I had issues with her communication with

this guy. That feels incorrect because since that moment, I know I've been short with her and with good reason. She literally lied about the regular and the amount of communication they had together. It feels like I'm being ghastly because she made it seem like friends have that regular amount of communication. Some days we end in fights, mainly about my tone or my reaction. It feels like a broken record. She constantly criticizes how I communicate with her or our kids.

It feels like it never ends and this is something she continually goes back to as a reason. for her abandonment. But some days, it feels like it ends more peacefully and calmly. I guess going back to why I decided to write today was really about feeling worthless. I feel absolutely unfit and unworthy. I let my wife trample on me and she makes me feel that it really was my fault for her actions. It feels that the therapist also wants me to understand these flaws and how they shape the events of I don't know, but maybe the therapist is right. I am noticeably anxious about anything my wife does, and I feel that it won't change. I will always worry about who she's talking to. She says she's committed to our relationship, but it feels like such a shitty excuse.

I told her, that's what you said on our wedding day, and look at this fucking mess. I wish my update contained more substance. I wish part of me could say I left her cheating ass, got alimony slash child support, got abs and met someone new. I can't do that right now. I try to stay busy at work and at home. Edit.

Just for clarity's sake, my wife did make it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with him in more ways than one. He's been finding ways to continue to see her attention. He even wrote an email to her and she showed me immediately. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, I'm sorry, dude. I guess you decided to say, I know I wouldn't. It's easier said than done. Yes, but she lied, lied and lied. I'm sure there's more

lies than there too. In the OPE applies saying, my decision to stay, isn't set in stone. It's built on the idea that we are extremely fragile and she has to put in the work. If not, or if she crosses our transparent boundary, I'm not giving her a third chance. Another commenter says, I'm curious, have you informed his wife? Has she cut contact with him? Does she still go to the gym? What is she doing to make this work on her end?

please elaborate i'm genuinely curious i would like to know how you're going to be able to move forward in this i'm sorry you are going through this update me and the ob here applies saying as far as i know he and his wife are separated and made that in agreement so to him and his wife he was within his own rights that's all hearsay though and i'd rather not think about it anymore does my wife go to the gym buddy let me tell you she's still addicted to it goes every day in the a.m. Since me and our kids are still sleeping. Still works out for three to four hours at a time usually. Although she is quite social when she goes, which is why it takes her so long.

She finds that her identity really relies on her ability to maintain this gym time I've noticed. I think if you took it away from her, I don't know what she would. would do. And a user replies that saying, fine, I can understand that gym, but is it the same gym? Like, is this just a business as usual? They still attend the gym together? Please, I hope not. You can't be that naive. There has to be some consequences, at least in my experience. If nothing changes, nothing changes. What had she done exactly in this reconciliation to prove to you that you're not her second choice. And the opier plisance says, it is not the same gym, although it's funny when she bitches about not being able to go there, mainly because of her old friend group and proximity to her house.

It makes me want to stare at her and laugh as if she didn't cause that entire problem. Another commenter says, fire your therapist. Whoever they are, they suck. You need to find one specializing and infidelity who will hold her feet to the fire. Unless your therapist holds the line that no matter what was going on in the marriage, cheating is inexcusable, and that the first priority is to deal with your pain and the nuclear bomb that your wife chose to blow up in the middle of your marriage. They're crap and completely unqualified to do their job.

Good luck. And the opium here applies saying, She has tried EMDR therapy for my trial. trauma. I believe they are qualified at least somewhat, but I wish she would be more assertive about protecting me given what transpired. Although, to that effect, I know she needs to remain neutral, so I'm not sure what good therapy looks like. Another commenter says, find a new couple's therapist because your sounds very biased, and I really suggest individual therapy because you need a space away from her to work through this.

And the opier replies saying, I agree, I think individual therapy would really help me. Another commenter said, never ever be a stay-at-home dad. Women lose all respect for their spouses when they become stay-at-home dads. Get a job, pronto. And then the opi responds and says, I've said this ad nauseum. I have a PRN job. My special needs son has a plethora of therapists he sees.

He needs some type of stable transportation. And that is the last update we have received from the OP. And to be honest, I'm kind of curious what he ends up doing because they don't seem like they have a stable relationship at all. And most likely he will end up divorcing her. I mean, I would. And I feel like a lot of people in the comments were suggesting. that that he divorce him because it clearly is not a relationship that has trust in it.

I mean, he even said it. He can't trust his wife or who she's talking to and he's very scared of who she's talking to all the time. That just doesn't seem healthy. It doesn't seem like he'll be able to sustain itself. I really hope the OP gets therapy and hopefully he'll be able to work out the relationship, whether that is divorce or trying to rebuild the broken relationship they have. Reddit Confession I paid somebody overseas to have the man who assaulted me attacked. Sorry, this is long, and sorry for the anonymity. Plus spelling mistakes in advance.

English is my third language. First things first, I am male 27. I was born and raised in East Africa. I have a huge extended family. On my dad's side, they are 13 of them, so you can imagine. My grandma was pretty well off. She had a big house and big farm. A big farm meant many day laborers slash workers.

They used to come and go in the evenings, get paid some little change. She was also very kind and she also used to help some of the workers in various ways. One of the ways was giving them extra food on top of their pay, etc. There was this one older lady who apparently had worked for her even before I was born. My grandma put her last born son through school in all he had. had to do was help in the home. He used to stay at my grandma's house during the weekend. This guy was always very nice to my cousins and I. He was just good to us. When I was about 8, 9 or 10 or so, he took the niceness to the next level. Long story short, he bought some juice boxes or something

then lured me into his shed. He then assaulted me. To be honest, I really don't want to remember this. shit gives me nightmares I knew what he did was wrong because he promised to keep buying whatever candy slash juice box he had I did keep quiet one day I saw him in my little cousin

who is five years younger than me and get all friendly and I asked my cousin what happened he admitted to me that he had lured him too the sad thing is me and this cousin grew older and left for high school I think unfortunately like I said

we had a big family which means I had more younger cousins. Note, being gay in Africa is almost a taboo. I think things are changing slowly now. Not sure, though. We never talked about this ever. We are in high school, and one of my uncles told him to go to his city and work for him. My uncle was super rich.

He had businesses and all that. He later went on to politics, but I digress. About a year or so, I hear a story that some people are looking for him. At this point, let's call him Bob. He was caught assaulting some boys in the name. neighborhood. One of them had admitted to his parents after they suspected something. In my home country, the police work a bit differently due to the corruption. But somehow, Bob fled that part of the country. And that's the last I heard of him. Now fast forward. My immediate family and I

moved to the diaspora, Monsei Ware. And all of a sudden, things have changed in our favor. More opportunities and money is looking nice and all. I work hard so you know. Early 2010, I go to visit home after almost a decade. I got to my little hometown, and guess who shows up? By the way, when you go overseas and go back home, it's a big deal. You are a big fucking deal. Everyone thinks you will leave some euros or dollars, L.O.L. This guy sees me, and he approaches me like nothing ever happened.

I'd forgotten all he did to me and my cousin till this very minute. Something in me snapped. I looked at him, and when he shook my hand, I swear I do not know how I. I never jumped on his neck to kill him. I called my cousin and reminded them of that. He really played it out and said he does not remember. I reminded him that we still have young children at home

and there is a predator who after all these years is still on the loose. I have a good job and I actually make good good money so it's not an issue. I just told them we need to get them castrated. By the way, in my little town back home, that's what is done to our wordists. but it kind of applies to men who are word women. What he had done to us was unheard of and to many, it does not exist. Most of the kids I went to school with are poor unfortunately and make less than a five pounds a day. So if you show them more than a thousand, they will be willing to do just about anything.

One of them became what is equivalent to one of those traffic cops here. He has a weapon and authority, but rarely he uses that weapon. The police are some of the most corrupt people in Africa. I told him my story and guess what, he was a victim too. I told him to detail whatever he had to, but make sure that man now in his 40s is literally fucked. I gave him $500 and promised another significant amount which I'd bring myself. I went back to my country of adoption and a few months later, my cousin sends me a video of what we call mob justice in my home country. The video shows a man being ruthlessly beaten by villagers with clubs, rocks and such.

The story goes that he had attempted to lure a local chief officer's kid and his friends to doing the nasty. Before they turned him in, they cash rated the nasty man. A year or so, I visited back home and my former classmates told me to buy him tea, LOL. Trust me when I say I bought him a lot of tea. There was no evidence as the man was not caught in the act. He was charged with various other shit, but he got out because he is now insane. He is the town madman. It does not take away what he did.

to us and the worst part is i remember after what he did to me me thinking that that was normal last year i went home for christmas and i saw him stared in his eyes and told him i paid people to do that to him that's literally the best one thousand dollars i've ever paid i have a family of my own now and i have no regrets this fool walks around with a gap between his thighs and eats from trash cans because of it and jesus that was one hell of a confession um obviously the english wasn't good but like the OP said, it's his third language, give him a break, but, um, wow, that is just an insane, insane confession. I saw murder. I live in Australia, and there are some really beautiful hiking trails that I like to go on to not only see the views, but also get exercise as I wasn't in the best

shape back then. I was hiking near the glasshouse mountains near the edge of a trail, so there was trees on either side of me. an opening allowing view down the side of the mountain. As I hiked up, I got near the top of a trail when I heard screaming like an argument, lots of curses and just horrible things. As I got closer to the sound, I heard something along the lines of, help, please help, and sobbing with more curses. I thought someone may have fell, so I went to get a closer look, and I saw a person on top another person, and the one on top was swinging their arms up and down on this other person's chest. Then the guy on top just left, ran. I saw the person die. They were trying to crawl and died.

And at this time, I didn't have a phone because I was still only young and had strict parents. I've been carrying this guilt for over 10 years, and I'm shaking while typing this. This isn't a joke. I saw. a murder. I got S extortion in less than 10 minutes, but deserve it. And by S extortion, I mean SEX extortion. I'm sorry I have to censor, but you get the gist of the word. And then let's get into the email. Dear Snook, I'm a 21-year-old male living in the southwest United States. I've recently come across your channel on Spotify and I listen to your stories while at work. I work at an auto shop. And your content helps keep my mind.

occupied during the day. Please keep up the great work. When I heard you open up the opportunity to give your confessions, I figured I'll give it mine. It'd make for a good story, my opinion. I've been needing to get this confession off my chest for a while. I'm not really sure how to cope or what to do next. I never thought something like this would happen to me, but here I am. I'd also like your opinion at the end and the opinion of everyone listening. I've provided some questions. Firstly, I apologize in advance. My grammar and spelling aren't great. First time writing something like this. My girlfriend was away visiting her family in Arizona for the week. She hasn't seen them in a bit and I had to work. I offered to stay home and watch our pet while she's

out of town. I didn't have any big plans while she was gone. Maybe just do some study work once home and hang loose. The first day alone, I went to work and had a pretty rough day. Rude customers. got covered in oil, long hot day in general. Finally, it comes time for me to leave work, and I'm overly tired, exhausted, and hungry. I was glad that I could just go home and relax without the worry of anything. Or so I thought. My drive home went smooth, almost felt like a dream. You know when you realize you're driving after driving through six lights and wondering

if they're all green or not? Yeah, that's what happened with me, all of a sudden, in the parking lot of our apartment. First thing I needed to do after driving at home is to take a shower. I very often come home smelling the cars and covered in a mix of sweat, oil washer fluid and other weird fluids, etc. Now this is the start for reasons I genuinely cannot explain and have no excuse or explanation for doing. Upon taking my clothes off and going to use the restroom, I download a grinder. I quickly signed up, made no profile bio, no profile photo, and no profile. profile picture and just browsed while I was on the toilet. Almost immediately I was contacted by

someone pretending to be a female on Grindr. One of the first things she asked for was a photo. I quickly snapped a selfie of myself undressed as I was about to hop into a shower and then proceeded to close out of the app to find some music to play on Spotify before starting my shower. I scrolled for a bit and found a playlist. I connected my shower Bluetooth speaker and proceeded to put my phone down on my bathroom counter. As the song starts playing, I heard my phone vibrate. I looked and I received an Apple text message from a random email address, starting with the letter G. The text included the photo I had sent, surrounded by a poorly photoshopped wanted poster, and another image poorly photoshopped imaged of my photo on what looked like a public sidewalk sign.

With it was a message. The message demanded money. threatening to leak the photo to my friends and family if I didn't comply. And if I didn't, that they would not stop until they ruined my life. After realizing how poorly Photoshop these photos were and how the text was laid out, I figured I'm just going to block them and all will be okay. I proceeded to immediately block the email. I deleted the text messages and deleted my account on Grindr. I thought to myself, I'm in the clear and proceeded to take my shower.

I couldn't be more wrong in my entire life. In the shower, I noticed my music stopped only for a brief few seconds, then turned back on with the speaker. Once I was done cleaning all the work rhyme off of me, I proceeded to hop out of the shower and lo and behold, a missed call for my father. I figured maybe he's just calling to say hi. I proceeded to call my dad back. First thing he said to me is what the hell is this?

in a calm, collective but upset tone voice. I immediately knew. Oh shit. Apparently, the person I had got my phone number and looked at the people most related to me and put them all in a big group chat. My dad tried to tell me all of the people that were known contacts of his phone,

and sure enough, my mom, my dad, my grandma, my sister, my stepmother, cousins, uncles, aunts, and several other phone numbers. He said, hey buddy, this is bad. This is going to put a stamp on this family for a while. I mean, holy shit, your mom, your grandparents, what are you going to say to them about this?

I basically said, I'm not sure. I don't know what to do. Then my father said something that I will forever hear for the rest of my life. He said, son, what were you doing trying to meet up with a 16-year-old? I said, what are you talking about? And he then proceeded to describe that in the group chat was the photo of me, with some text overlaid on it saying I was trying to meet a 16-year-old.

I quickly realized how this was going to turn out. I couldn't see the group chat because I had blocked the original sender. Apparently, if you block someone that happens to be a part of a group, you can't see what they send, only what others send. More on this later. Regardless, since I blocked the person to say, sent the photo, I couldn't see it. I don't want to see exactly what it says. And I still haven't seen to this day six months later. And I hope to not have to ever see it. I quickly tried to explain

to my father what was happening then hung up. A few minutes after getting off the phone with my dad, my sister called me wondering what the hell was going on and provided that a majority of her side of the family was in that group chat and were the unknown numbers. Now I had a list of numbers texted out to myself so I could try to figure out who was going to see this into contact. Before it was too late. Again, I couldn't see the group chat. I was exhausted, starving, and so shaken, realizing what this could turn into. I then called my mom, my step-sister, and my grandfather, all while I was still drying off

from my shower. This all took place within the span of 10 to 15 minutes. From when I first got the app to the last hang-up for now. My girlfriend was out having dinner with her grandparents at this time, and I knew I had two choices. Try to hide this forever or come forward immediately. For genuinely, no motive whatsoever, or no reason or desire to cheat, or had any thoughts about questioning my identity, I decided to come forward to my girlfriend and tell her exactly what happened. She would be back from dinner in about an hour.

That was probably the most excruciating pain I've ever felt in. in one hour. I was trying to ask myself, why did I do this, trying to come up with an explanation? How do I explain this to my friends and family? Nobody believes me from what I've said so far. I'm so tired. I just want to go to bed. Why did I do this? Once she was back, I called her, and explained everything the best I could. She was devastated, broke down crying, and told me she needed space to process everything while she finished visiting her family for the week. That week would turn out to be the worst week of my life. I tried to go to bed that night knowing I had messed up badly. I thought I had probably ruined my relationship. My entire family had now seen

those photos of me and I was being accused of being gay and trying to meet up with a young person, essentially being labeled a complete creep. My girlfriend was upset and confused and I was confused myself. After one of the most stressful days of my life, the last thing I needed was this. Somehow, I did manage to fall asleep. The next morning, I woke up and opened my phone to the group chat. I learned that when you block someone in the group chat, you don't see their messages, but if someone else replies, you can only see their message. The group chat contained nearly my entire family, a few relatives, and a couple completely

random numbers. One of the random numbers replied with a simple, huh? Or what is this? That's how I realized exactly who had received it. That was the only message ever sent. I immediately deleted the chat, reported the number to Apple, saved screenshots of what had been sent to me, and reported the incident online.

I also filed a report through the FBI's online extortion reporting system and used the image removal resources provided. I still had to go to work that day. When I arrived, there was a police officer who regularly patrols the area. I explained the situation to him, and he suggested filing a police report. report. Once I got off of work, while I was at work despite everything, she still went to have lunch with my parents the day after the incident, which had already been planned for a few weeks.

She went with almost every person that was on the list. She said lunch was good, but they didn't talk about the incident. I spent the day thinking it through. At work, and ultimately I decided it likely wouldn't help much to report it to the police, the damage had already been done. All that was left was to recover. The following days were extremely difficult. My girlfriend didn't trust me. We hardly spoke other than the typical good morning and good night. And what are you doing today? Calls and texts.

She said she would like to talk to me when she gets back. The following days were filled with anxiety, stress, and disappointment towards myself. I kept calling more and more of the contacts of that group chat, called them and explained exactly what I've explained before, no idea why, no motive. For my family members who had to see that photo, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see a photo of me in the first place. It is not a good way to be a role model in the family.

And to my beautiful girlfriend, and I'm sorry my actions have hurt you. And I know I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I did. My father continued to press me about it for a few weeks, bringing it up repeatedly, until eventually it faded into the background. While I waited for my girlfriend to get home, nothing new reappeared.

My feelings started to get a little better. most family members shrugged it off, but I knew my girlfriend would be the one that I owe it all to. She ended up driving home and got home before I got home for work. She had a couple hours to herself after I got home. I quickly took a shower. We ate dinner together and had a nice conversation to end the evening. Of course, it was emotional.

Of course, it is everything that you expected it to be, but I was surprised that she took it as well as she did. She acknowledged that it was a mistake and appreciated that I told her immediately. And now for my favorite part of your story, Snook, the update. I waited until the right time to even send you the story. That way, there is an update. This all happened before the holidays last year.

And now it is January 26. I am happy to report my girlfriend and I have actually grown closer than we ever have before. We actually were able to enjoy the holidays, spend time with our families. We've gone out to dinner multiple times. gone on plenty of dates and we actually feel like I said before closer than we ever have. It seems like my family has moved on. I haven't heard anything about it since then. I haven't received any new photos.

Any new text messages, however, my heart does give a beat when I get a text message from a G. I'm happy with the outcome. It's probably the best outcome I could have gotten. However, I will still have that gut feeling knowing that I did this to my family, to my girlfriend and to me. And I will live with that for the rest of my life. Now I have a couple questions for you and for everybody watching at home. Firstly, could there have been an explanation maybe,

a psychological reason for what I did if there was genuinely no motive? More context. Like I've mentioned many times before, I've never questioned my personal preference in gender. I've never once been interested in dating and another person. I've been in a happy relationship, and I've never thought I would even do something remotely close to this. Secondly, couldn't have been that. I was extremely lucky slash unlucky?

Was it a blessing in disguise? Could this have been something preventing me from doing anything further? And lastly, how am I able to regain the trust for my girlfriend, like I said? We're doing much better than we ever have, but of course, it's not fully healed. What am I able to do? How should I move on with my life? How hard should I be on myself for it? How are we able to grow together closer than we ever have even more?

Thanks, Snook. And all right, I'll try to take a stab at these questions, but these questions are really a question for you. And you need to ask yourself, I can't read your mind. And these questions kind of expect me to read your mind. Your first question was, could there have been an explanation or a psychological reason for what I did? I mean, you said you immediately regretted it,

which I guess makes sense if you were feeling curious, but this is just a question for you, man. I don't know. I don't know. I mean, no one usually just downloads Grindr and sends a explicit photo of themselves randomly. Like, that's not something that happens a lot of the time unless you are wanting something out of that other person

or wanting to, for some sort of desire or a thrill to cheat because that is cheating. But you said there's no motive, which I can understand your dad not believing you. But yeah, that is just completely a question for yourself. Yeah, I don't know why. Because, yeah, in this question you say, I've never thought I would even do something remotely close to this. And so exactly, that's a question for you. I can't read your mind.

I don't know your motivation because did you just want to thrill? Were you curious or whatever? I don't know. I can't read your mind. And same with your second question. You said secondly couldn't have been that. I was extremely lucky slash unlucky. Was it a blessing in disguise?

Could this have been something preventing me from doing anything further? And I don't know. What do you mean by could this have been something preventing me from, could this have been something preventing me from doing something in the future? or in the further. So did you think you were going to keep doing stuff? I don't know. I feel like you left out a lot of details

when it came to downloading Grindr, taking the photo, and taking a shower. I feel like that was a clear gap of details that you left out. And we can't really get a good consensus on why you did what if you don't leave out, if you leave out those important details.

I mean, what, did this girl hit you up and you were like, hey, you're cute, whatever. And then you send the picture or did you just send the picture right away? I don't know. I mean, I can only speculate because this is just a lot of details missing. And then your last question is how I'm able to regain the trust for my girlfriend. And that's a question for you again.

I don't know your girlfriend. I don't know who she is. I don't know her personality. I don't know any of this. And so, yeah, dude, I don't know. I guess just be open, honest. be understanding that she might not trust you for a long, long, long, long time because you admitted to cheating on her or being unfaithful. And so it'll make sense if she is very apprehensive

to trust you or won't fully trust you certain things or trust you around her family or whatever because you might be a little bit, you know, this is going to be very blunt and honest. You might be a little bit embarrassing for her in front of her family because of this whole incident. I mean, you might be able to move on easy-peasy, but you also might not. I don't know. But these questions are really for you, and I don't really know how to answer these. But, yeah, hopefully that helps a little bit. This family is on the brink of Civil War.

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