Snook - Crazy Anonymous Confessions

Episode Date: August 1, 2025

A big thank you to everyone who submitted their confessions! I appreciate you all sending in stories and confessions and being very open! I'm glad the channel can be a place for you to vent some things that you might need to get off your chest!Let me know what you thought about this video down below! If you enjoyed please like and subscribe, thank you. And also let me know if you would like to see more videos like this in the future. I try to include every confession, but I get a lot of emails, so I'm sorry I can't include them all!If you would like to submit a confession, please send to this email... [e-mail]... my voice is human.Subscribe and like for more, thank you for watching, and stay safe... Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another anonymous confessions video. And today we're getting into some crazy anonymous confessions. And all of these confessions are sent in by you guys. And it's been a while since I've, you know, released a video like this. So I've got a lot of emails to go through. So this video will be longer than most confessions videos. You guys have a lot to confess. And I'll keep making these videos as long as you guys keep sending in stories and watching them.

So comment down below if you'd like to see another video like this in the future. I appreciate you. all watching. It means the world. And please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps me keep making videos like this and it helps more than you know. And all right, without further ado, let's get into some crazy anonymous confessions. 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 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 at 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 it 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 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, count. You know, count. 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. 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 a 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 K2. 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, head-budding 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, rushed 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 asleep. I go to therapy once a week. 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 to, 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 aren't 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 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 being the cause of someone's death or being so close to witnessing it.

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, it seems horrible. But it's just, I'm glad you're getting help.

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 I think you really would need to kind of break that cycle or else that mental cycle is going to keep happening. 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 I'm a little, and I'm 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 while 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 replaying it in my head, wondering what if I had 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 first. 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 a 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 them 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 dumb ass 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. I purposely killed a kitten. Hi, Snook.

I love listening to your videos, so please never stop doing what you're doing. Pardon my grammar. English is not my first language. I'd appreciate it if you kept me anonymous and placed this story in 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 psychics.

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 in a locals' week-long salary. So you can imagine the amount of strays roaming 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 conscious can take becoming a one anymore. In school, some of my classmates heard a faint 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 weak 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 get to properly hang out and chill with your 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 kitten 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 it's 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 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 and my left hand. This kid 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 guilt 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 more. 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. 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, and 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 authenticity.

system 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 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 stepped 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 attribute 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 four, she had a less than 2% chance of surviving past five years. When she was diagnosed, she was given six 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, 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 these six months. 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. 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 pay myself if she ever did die. And yet, here I am. Ten 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 still in their lives. My mom is 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 asleep, 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 is 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 live. 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 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 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 right in 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 and 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. that way long ago. I am now 19. Becoming the age of 20, I've 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 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'd 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 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 months.

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 wanted 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 track. 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 feedback or advice you've had for them, I'm sure they would greatly, greatly appreciate it. 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 an 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 trips it in. 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 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 H.C. 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 misdosed, 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 traumatized 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 prize 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, 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 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 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. 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 first time. Doesn't sound like much, but women of 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, see it 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 context, 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, 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 stalker 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 settled 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 bachelor's, 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 into 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 creeper of this, 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 decide 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. it 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 taking 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. When I was 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. 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, 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, surprised. 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. Um, 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 um and uh 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 um 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. And all right, guys, that wraps up some crazy, anonymous confessions, please let me know what you thought about this video down below. Did you enjoy it? Would you like to see more? And if you have a confession, you'd like to share, please email it to the email in my description. I appreciate you watching. If you watch it at the end of the video,

you're awesome. Please go check out some other videos on the channel. I'm sure you'll like them. Please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps more than you know. And yeah, that wraps up today's video. Thank you so much for watching. And this is Snook. And I'll see you next time. Bye.