Snook - Creepy Anonymous Confessions

Episode Date: June 25, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to another anonymous confessions video. And you guys have been sending me a lot of emails of your confessions. So here's another anonymous confessions video. And these will be some creepy anonymous confessions. You guys send me a lot of emails and you guys support these videos like crazy, comments, likes, and just subscribing. So, you know, I'd love to make more since you guys enjoy them so much. And I appreciate you all watching.

It really means the world. And like I said, please like and subscribe. It really helps so much. You don't even know. And yeah, I love creating the safe space for you guys. So if you want to send in a confession, send it to the email on screen now. And yeah, I read through them all. And I just include the ones that I kind of can on YouTube,

since YouTube guidelines are a little bit iffy sometimes. And you guys have some, you know, sadly disturbing confession sometimes. So I'm sorry if I can't include them all. But I included a lot of them that I got. And yeah, all right. Enough talking. And without further ado, let's get it. into some creepy anonymous confessions. I tried to kill my younger brother when we were younger,

and no one till this date knows that I was the one who did it, not even him. This happened when I was seven and he was four. I didn't like him during that time. I don't even know why. I was a very troubled kid as my teacher described. I was violent towards other kids too. I went smack to kids' head on the lunch table in school or one time I took a knife to school and showed it to my classmates as a warning that I was going to kill them. I was obsessed with crime shows during that period. It was the only thing I used to watch. I rarely watched cartoons. During that time, I discovered serial killers like Jack the Ripper, Jeffrey Dahmer. For some reason, Kid Me was impressed by them and would idolize them thinking that one day I would be like them. My life at school wasn't that great. I didn't like talking

to the other kids even though they were very welcoming and really nice. I used to pick on other kids for no reason. My teacher would write notes to me asking me to bring my mother to school for some conversation, and I always try my best to hide them for my mom because I was really scared of disappointing her. The teacher eventually told my mother about the incidents at school, and my mother didn't care and pass them off by saying they were just childhood aggression, which will go away once I'm older. My life at home was pretty chill. I mean, even though my parents' relationship was messed up, since he basically forced my mother into marrying him and was a deranged alcoholic, I never let it bother me. Even though he was rarely there, it didn't affect me. Life was

the same with or without him. As for my brother, I didn't like him much. I don't know why. It wasn't jealousy or something. My mother actually loved us both equally. He was just annoying. He would cry over the small issue and would disturb me all the time asking me to play with him, something I never really enjoyed. This part may some messed up, but I wished he was gone. With that, One day when my mom was busy in the kitchen and we were playing on the bed. I don't remember much about our conversation, but I pushed him from the bed, which was somewhat at a good height from the floor to cause damage to someone his size. I looked down at the floor and he was laying there motionless.

I panicked and the realization hit me. I called out to my mother and she came to the room to find him on the floor. She was screaming and trying to get him to wake up. The reaction was very exaggerated, but it still haunts me to this day when I remember it. She started praying to God to save him, and I felt as if my heart had dropped. I thought I was going to jail. When they took him to the hospital, he didn't remember anything about falling from the bed, and I told everyone that he slipped.

Till this day, everyone believes that he slipped from the bed, even him. During that time, people included my mother, criticized me for not supervising after him carefully. If only they knew. I've become a very nonviolent person since then. I never had trouble with other kids, and will be graduating, and two years from school. One of the top ones in my class. Me and my brother are close now.

I love him a lot and can't imagine losing him. I'm still a big crime documentary fan, but now I feel more empathetic towards the victims. Hello, Snook. I've been thinking about submitting this for a little while now. I love your confession videos. I have a couple I must submit, but this is the first one. My mom was murdered last year by a boyfriend.

She was only 52, and I had just retired the year previously. The trial is in a couple months. It's been rescheduled several times. A few times it's been a week or two from the scheduled trial, and Dread doesn't even describe the word I feel when thinking about seeing the killer. The way he killed her was incredibly violent. I don't know all the details because it's all been under investigation, so they haven't told me much.

I don't want to learn the details, but I'm going to learn everything whenever the trial happens. Everything I do know absolutely haunts me. I really don't want to learn anything more than I already know. I remember the day when I learned what happened clearly before I got the news. She was a diabetic and had a monitor that would tell us if her blood sugar was low through an app. I woke up to my sister saying her monitor was off and asked me to try and get in touch with her. I did and she didn't answer. I didn't suspect anything.

Sometimes her monitor got disconnected. My work started at noon that day. A Wednesday. So I sent her a message when I was getting ready for. for work. She didn't respond and I went to work. A little worried but still thought everything was fine. No response two hours into my shift and then her best friend calls me and tells me I need to leave work and she and my sister are coming to pick me up. That was when I knew something was terribly wrong. I left work immediately fighting back tears thinking she was in the hospital for either having a seizure

or extremely low blood sugar. When they showed up, my sister burst out of the car and said he fucking killed her while crying her eyes out. I wasn't ready for that. I was in shock and get in the car when we drove to her place to pack up her dogs and arrange getting her things. It gets blurry after this point. There were reporters. They're asking for us to say something, but I couldn't. I'm very proud of my sister and her best friend for being able to say something when I couldn't. The arrangement was the next day. The last time I saw him. More reporters shoving cameras in our faces. I hate reporters. I couldn't look up after seeing him as he entered the courtroom. I don't expect much more than that for the trial. This went on longer than I planned, so I'll cut it here.

If this makes it into a video, my heart goes out to anyone who lost a loved one by murderer. Thank you for reading. Anonymous Confessions. Cannibalistic curiosities. Hello, Snook, I'm a big fan of your content and listen to your stuff a lot while drying. I hope you are well. And I had a question on what things you do for yourself. and self-care after digesting all these stories. And I don't do much. I read a lot of these. I read through all of these emails.

I don't do a lot for self-care because, I don't know. I just think it's somewhat easy to digest all of these because I feel like I'm doing a good thing, you know, creating a safe space for you all. Definitely sad and definitely can, you know, bring me down a bit. But it just provides a space where other people can maybe relate, watching the video, and I think it does a lot of good. So it makes me feel good. And anyways, on to your confession. To the confession, call it morbid curiosity, maybe feral instincts.

I'd like to make it clear. I have no desire to kill, but I do have cannibalistic curiosities. Growing up during my emotional incidents of S.H. as a troubled teenager, I often wondered how it taste to cut off a small piece of my own flesh and devour it. My mind often entertained these thoughts and wondered if I would panseer the piece of flesh, season it, eat it raw and pure. There is something about the glisten and shine of what sits under human skin that really appears to me. I have a bad habit of nibbling chunks of store-bought meat, raw or barely cooked while preparing my dinners, and as a result will sometimes have an upset stomach. Raw meat is just extremely delicious. Maybe I can be the next liver king. He has a content creator that supports diet in on raw

meats. There is not much more to mention. Will I ever get the chance to try human flesh? Probably not, but a person can dream. I was a part of a clan war in Africa. Confession. As the title reads, I was part of an ongoing clan slash land conflict in Africa. I was barely a teen when I got involved. And it wasn't a major fighter during the conflict or anything, but I definitely did continue. tribute to it. I'm a Somali kid who was born in America and sent to Kenya, Garissa, in the northeast to live with my uncle when I was 11. I was tricked into coming because my mom told me it was just a vacation for two months, but I was really brought for Tukon Salis, which means return to culture, or return to discipline in Somali. This was basically so I could memorize the

Quran, the holy book of my religion, island, and also my culture so I wouldn't become too westernized, which is something very common in Somali families. Adjusting took some time, but eventually I made friends mostly through cousins and relatives. I didn't speak the language very well, and making friends at my dirty school that I despised was hard for me. My relatives slash clan were tied to the ongoing conflict, and they had access to a lot of guns. Guns are kind of restricted in Kenya, but you'd be surprised how many rural people own them in the eastern parts of the country. clan conflicts, land conflicts, and other issues were normal in the region of Greece I was in. People mostly fought over land disputes and of course clans, aka Quabiels in Somali.

In my area, it wasn't unusual to hear gunfire at night. Even at school, I remember this one time we started ducking down during class when bullets flew just outside the school compound. I remember crying under my desk. And I don't really remember why. I was the kind of kid who laughed at the sound of gunfire. Maybe it was because everyone else was crying, and I just wanted to fit in. I've mostly forgotten the feelings I felt when that happened, which could explain a lot. Me and one of my cousins were very close, best friend level even.

We played around with guns, firing into the air, trees, whenever we could get the chance. We would shoot at anything for fun. I had a real love for guns, and so did my cousin. The reason I adored my cousin was because he wasn't like the other African kids. He felt like someone American like me, like we shared the same injury, hobbies, and everything. One day, I was stupid enough to suggest we go spook people and shoot at their feet in the bush,

less urban areas just to mess with them and scare them. I think we stopped after one incident, when we accidentally hit someone to the foot. I don't remember all the details, but they ran off and didn't bleed, so maybe the bullet just grazed them. Eventually, I got slightly involved in some real fighting, but I won't say more for safety and legal reasons.

I was barely a teen, but now I'm back in America. and weirdly for some reason, I don't feel any trauma from it. I thought I'd get PTSD, but I didn't. If anything, I like guns even more. Right now, I'm still a minor, but not going to lie, I can't wait to hold an AK-47 again. I hope I can get my hands on one. Hi, I've been watching your videos for a while,

and I love your confession videos. I'm not sure if this fits the vibe of your channel, but here's my confession. I'm from the UK, and like America, we have a big gang culture here. When I was 14, I got involved in a gang in my area, mainly because I was robbed by a rival gang, which made me feel like I needed protection. My younger brother never got involved in the gang and always chose to hang out just outside of my gang's area,

and said he would hang out a couple of towns over. One day he called me up while he was out and told me he had been robbed by the gang in the town that he usually went to. Obviously, I was raging when he told me, so the next day, me and one of my members of the gang, went to the town to get revenge for what happens to my brother. After we got revenge, I was always looking over my shoulder, paranoid that the rival gang would retaliate, so I always kept a knife on me.

About a month after the incident, I was walking through town to meet a friend when I saw someone falling behind me with his coat over his head and looking at the ground, so I couldn't see his face. I got paranoid, so I started speeding up my pace, but he kept up. Once the guy got too close to me, I pulled out my knife and in a single motion, sliced the guy's face.

The bloke screamed in pain and confusion, looking up at me scared. That's when I realized that he wasn't a part of any gang and was a civilian. This is my biggest regrets in life. I've heard other people, but they were all the gang members so I can live with it. But herding a civilian just makes me feel sick when I think about it. There are justifications that other people in my life had given me, but I don't think I can ever justify what I did. I'm now 21 years old with a two-year-old boy, a full-time job in our place.

I left the gang about a year after this story happened, so at about 15, and I've stayed away from everything to do with it. I've been swapping out the sugar in my shared office's break room with salt for the past six months, just a tiny bit, at first, barely noticeable. Then I started increasing the ratio. Now it's almost pure salt. Nobody has said anything. Not a single person.

They just keep making their coffee and tea, grimacing slightly, and then going back to their desks. I watched them day in and day out, poisoning their morning routines with my salt. Hi, Snook, thanks for reading this confession, if you ever do. Been watching for about a year and love listening to the videos while working out, cleaning, driving, or pretty much anything. Love your content. I do want to stay anonymous, but I'll give you my first name, Cole. I just need to get this off my chest no matter what. Every time I drive, I'm reminded of this, and it makes me feel deeply terrified and queasy.

So when I was at college, I was fairly frequently drive to my parents' house for some weekends. It was only about a two-hour drive, and it was kind of fun because the roads were calm and had a nice view. One weekend, I left college a little later at night. Not a big deal driving in the dark. It wasn't too difficult. About 30 minutes in, I was stuck behind someone going slower than me. This road was one lane going both ways for visual. and I was looking to pass the guy.

It was so dark out, I couldn't see the environment too well, so I couldn't see if there was a hill up ahead and if there was a car out of view. I know about the lane divider lines. When they're dotted, it means it's safe, but this is an older area with older roads that aren't marked properly, or just wither down paint.

Despite all these things, I decided to attempt to pass him. Looking back at it, every time, it was such a dumb, effing move. I wish I didn't. and never even tried to risk it. But being the dumbass, reckless young driver I was, I went anyways. I was in a honda Civic, so it wasn't a fast car.

After trying to pass the guy for a couple seconds, I saw headlights in front of me, no clue how far away. And I'm so thankful for the guy I was passing because they noticed it and slowed down a shit ton for me to get back over. If he hadn't, I probably would have died that day, along with whoever was in that car. Ever since this, I've never attempted to pass anyone ever again.

I'm not a reckless driver at all. I drive like a grandma just because of the deep dread that event put in my head. Sorry if there isn't much else to the story and it potentially not being enough. I just needed to tell someone about this. I've never told a soul. Thanks for reading Snook. Hi Snook. Firstly, I would like to say how much I appreciate your series and channel, as it seriously saves my working days. Secondly, if you have any comments on what I'm about to say,

please feel free to let me know. So when I was younger, about 16 or 17, I ended up with a baby squirrel. I lived out fairly far from the nearest town and could not go to give her to a professional vet. Before people get upset, she had fallen out of a tree just before a huge lightning storm, and she wouldn't go up to the tree to her family no matter how hard to be tried. Anyways, I became her mother. I would feed her every time she was hungry.

I kept her warm and I helped her keep clean. For two months, I had to feed her every few hours and lost sleep. I honestly loved her more than any other pet I've ever had. One day, I had to go help my mother with her business as it was urgent. I had the squirrel out of her cage to play and cuddle and clean her cage out. Well, after my mother called, I had to put everything back and secure the cage fast. It turned out, I had not secured her cage very well, and she managed to get out and explore the house. One of our dogs ended up killing her, and my brother found her when we got home.

All I remember that day is holding her and crying into her fur. I hated the dogs and myself that day. We buried her and I gave her a headstone. But since that day, I feel my heart is closed. I cannot love another animal or human as I loved her. I ended up getting a tattoo of her feet on my shoulder as I needed to feel close to her. But I let her down.

And now I struggle to love anything. It's been almost four years since that day and yet I'm still unable to open my heart to love anything that much. I had started a series with her. We had one more episode to watch, left when she passed. To this day, I cannot even think of this show without breaking down into tears. I will forever blame myself. I apologize for the long post, but I appreciate you taking your time to read my story.

Thank you. Thank you so much for sharing this, and I'll give my thoughts as you asked for him. I really think you should forgive yourself. I understand how attached you were to the squirrel and just, yeah, how attached you were to your animal and your pet. But I think you should forgive yourself. totally because it doesn't really seem like it was your fault from everything you laid out. Seems like you're in a rush, put it away, and the squirrel accidentally got out. And I don't think you obviously didn't mean to hurt her.

I really think it was an accident. And horrible things like that can happen. But I really don't think you should let this, you know, kind of restrict you from loving other people or loving other animals. it's definitely scary and you might think you're going to get hurt again, but, you know, it's better to live life loving and, you know, not scared of something like that happening again. It was a horrible accident and hopefully nothing like that ever happens again. But yeah, I really think you should try to learn to forgive yourself, you know, maybe some sort of therapy. I mean, it's been years you said.

So I think therapy, something like that might help you out. I think it's worth looking into. And anyone else watching, feel free to leave your opinions and comments down below in the comments and hopefully give her some insight. And anyways, on to the next one. My eating disorder ruined everyone's lives with mine. I've been carrying this out around for years and just need to get it out. I was 13 when I chose to stop eating after hearing of anorexia.

My family was turbulent and I felt unseen and unwanted. For some bizarre reason, I decided that stopping eating was the way to go to the way to go about fixing this. It only took about three months for a true eating disorder to form, and for my thinking patterns to become completely delusional. I have a French bulldog who is the light of my life and my best friend. In my insanity, I decided that because I loved her so much, she too deserved to become beautiful like I was, and so I stopped feeding her so much. I would walk her for at least 10 kilometers a day with me while decreasing the amount of food she was given. Obviously, she lost weight quickly. My parents never said a word to me about it, but I'm sure they knew what it was my doing.

I wasn't allowed to walk her afterwards, and she's never suffered anything long term, but the guilt racks me every time I prepare her food. I recovered for a year and a half or so and got a girlfriend. She, unbeknownst to me, was also in recovery from an eating disorder, though hers was bulimia. She accidentally introduced new behaviors to me, and vice versa. The relationship became very toxic, both of us using each other as ways to feed into her illness. I single-handedly tore her out of a recovery. We broke up about six months later, and I haven't talked much at all since. I used to see her round town, but she moved away last year, and I wonder how she's doing now. I hope she was able to find peace again, and I haven't made a long-lasting negative impact on her. When I was 16, my eating became

the worst it had ever been, and I declined very rapidly, both physically and mentally. I was causing arguments every day at home, yelling at my parents for making me food that I didn't approve of, yelling at my brothers for stealing food I'd been hoarding, and just was overall really a dreadful person. A few too many plates of food were being thrown for someone so far past toddlerhood. There was a time my brother saw me come out of my room for what must have been the first time in days, and he asked if I wanted some of the pizza he'd ordered. I obviously said no. He said he was worried about me, and I wasn't exactly myself anymore. that I was just becoming a skeleton and he doesn't like that.

I shouted at him for that, and I'm not sure exactly what I said, but I know it revolved around jealousy in some way. That same brother had developed anorexia now. I am certain my own illness played a large pardon all of it, and seeing me in the depths of it must have planted a seed for him, which was only made him itself seen. It ruins me watching him go downhill in the same way I did. However, I feel angry that my family cares so much about his health

and nobody ever gave a shit about mine. My mom didn't even believe me when I said I had been officially diagnosed with anorexia. She was aware, but uncaring. She used to message my aunt all those years ago asking if she's noticed I've changed and lost weight and that she was worried. But she never did a thing. I suppose I should be pleased she's learning from her mistakes and is trying to minimize the strength of my brother's own ED, but there's just such a range inside me

every time I hear her asking him to please eat, encouraging him and loving him despite it. They don't fight like we used to. I've since recovered, been discharged from all services, and haven't done the things I used to for a long time. I know I was sick, and maybe some of the things I did weren't truly me doing it, but I know I should have controlled myself a bit more. Nobody around me deserved that monster, and I hope when I start medical school, it won't make itself known again.

Thank you for reading. M. Hi, Snook. I'm a new subscriber who found your channel recently, and I have been hooked on your content ever since. Keep it up. I'd like to share something and ask for your perspective. I'm a junior Marine, just out of boot camp and MCT. My follow-on school is nine months long and intensive.

We learn a topic one day and test on it the next. Our MOS is considered mission critical, so the academic standards are high, anything below 80% is a fail. Today, or a few weeks or so by the time you read this, we took a cumulative exam covering everything we learned so far. On my first attempt, I scored 77.3%. Good enough in many MOSs, but a failure for ours. A second failure would push me to the next class.

A third would mean reclassification. What makes it even more upsetting is I studied day and night for this exam, and I still failed and failure is not an option, not to me or my family that rely on me to help them pay bills. When I sat for the retest, I was so anxious and stressed about not passing that I made a terrible decision. Taking advantage of my laptop's low brightness setting gets set to minimum brightness to save battery when off the charger.

I opened chat GPT during the exam and use it to look up answers. I passed while many of my friends who relied solely on their own study scored in the mid-70s. I have ADHD, which makes focus and knowledge retention a daily challenge, but that does not excuse what I did. cheating showed disrespect to my fellow Marines, my chain of command, and the rank I wear, which is LCPL. I will have to live with that choice for the rest of my career. I'm sharing this because I value accountability and would appreciate any advice you or the community can offer on owning this mistake

and moving forward with integrity. Hey man, first of all, thanks for your honesty and for your service. Thanks for sending this in. You know, thanks for sending this in like I just said. but you didn't write this in to justify what happened. I sure hope not. And you owned it. Here's what I would have to say. What you did was wrong. Yeah, but one mistake doesn't define your entire integrity.

What does define it is what you choose to do next. And you're already asking the right questions. How do I move forward? How do I make sure to never do that again? And yeah, it sounds like it's very hard environment, you know, 80% passing, ADHD. Hopefully, I don't know the Marines at all. If you can get an accommodation of some sort for that, I don't know. I could just be making that up.

But yeah, you know, you can't change the past. I don't think you should beat yourself up forever. It's definitely not right to cheat. I can't condone that at all. But like I said, it's what you choose to do next. I really hope you can, maybe in the future, just eat the fail if you have to or study more. I think this is a good learning experience for you. And yeah, I'm not sure what else to say.

Everyone watching, please give some feedback. And I'm sure some people might say both sides of the spectrum that either you should be kicked out or it's fine to cheat. I'm going to take the middle of the road. I'm going to say you can't change the past. but please, you know, use this as a learning lesson. And yeah, being kicked out of the Marines is a lot worse than, you know, failing. I'm not sure.

I don't know all the ends and out, but thank you so much for sharing. I hope this little, you know, rant helps you out a little bit. And thank you and good luck with the rest of your academy and the Marines. Godspeed. Hi, Snook. Love the channel and hoping to keep this anonymous.

trigger warning for animal death. So when I was a sophomore in high school, I worked at a golf course part-time. I was a cart kid, so I would just manage the golf carts for people, nothing too special. There was a mama duck who lived right next to the cart garage. I called her Patty. Well, she laid eggs one year. Whenever she left, I would look at them. There were eight.

One day after school, I went to work and heard peeping. Her eggs hatched. I walked over to her, and she got really spooked and flew off. I peeked over to where the eggs were and saw eight little chicks. I was so happy and proud of her. I considered this duck my friend for the past two years I worked there, and it was so cool that she had babies who would no doubt live in one of the many ponds at this golf course.

I have no idea what came over me, but I decided I wanted one. Maybe you know where this is going. I'm sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I held it in my hand. He peeped loudly for his mother who didn't come back. Then I thought if I took one, I should take two so they wouldn't be lonely.

Here I am with two baby wild ducks thinking I could raise them. How ignorant I was. I put them in a popcorn basket. The golf course gave out free popcorn for golfers, so by the end of my shift, I would have a stack of empty popcorn baskets. I walked home with them, and when I got home, my mom and stepdad were not happy,

but they accepted it. I told them that their mom abandoned them, and not that I straight up stole them. I found an empty storage box, put a towel in it with some grass, a bowl of water, and a lamp. not even a heat lamp, just a lamp. I played with them that day and named them

Terriaki and Nugget. My mom was even somewhat fond of them by the end of the day. Well, at night they wouldn't stop peeping, and I couldn't sleep undoubtedly because they were cold. I thought if I held them, they would feel better and warm up, so I did. They settled into the nook of my arm and quieted it down. Before I knew it, I woke up in the middle of the night. I immediately knew I messed up.

I got up and saw one of them stiff and squished flat on my bed. I immediately freaked out and began searching for the other. I flipped over a pillow next to me, and there it was, squished, stiff, and contorted. At first, I thought going to put them back in their box and make it look like they just died, but I was hysterical. I ran up to my mom and stepdad's room screaming that I was a monster and that I had murdered my babies. My mom did her best to console me and told me they would have died anyway since they were rejected from the nest, even though they were perfectly healthy, and I had stolen them.

I cried for weeks. I always imagined the beautiful ducks that they could have grown unto had I not been selfish and considered their needs and that they were wild animals, not pets slash toys. The only person who knows that I smothered two baby ducks are my mom and my now ex-stepfather. This was over 10 years ago, and I still feel so guilty. I've since raised multiple pets slash animals, including my cats, who I raised in six weeks, and chickens who I've raised from less than a week. My mom says my chickens made up for those ducks, but if she knew the whole story, I don't think

she'd say that. I think I'll learn from this, but we'll never live it down. We buried them the next day under a pine tree in our backyard, and poor Patty. Her babies were stolen from her and murdered, not out of spite, but of neglect and stupidity. I hope I can be forgiven. I still think about them nearly every day and how I destroyed their chance of life. Often when I look at my chickens,

I get flashbacks to that horrible moment I woke up in the middle of the night to two stiff baby birds under me. Never will I again, or have I since gotten a pet or animal without considering their needs. I'm partially at fault for my best friend's death. Hey, Snook, I've been a long time fan of the channel

since 50K subs. I like to remain anonymous but excuse me for any mistakes. So I made a lifelong, or so I thought, best friend in 2020. We spent every day together playing and hanging out. Let's call him M. We met through my church, and we spent every waking moment together. We were inseparable in one day, October 22, 2021.

Me, him, and his younger brother and sister were at our pastor's house, and I was on a hill since his dad was helping fix something. He and his siblings were in their dad's truck in such. Suddenly, it started to roll down the hill, and both of the doors were open, flinging him and his younger sister out of the cabin. He dove after, tackling her into the nearby ditch before he landed right behind the rear wheel, in which it rolled over his ribcage. We all rushed over, and both his siblings were fine, but one of his ribs was sticking out,

and he was covered in blood. He got rushed to the hospital, and he sadly passed away four hours later to lung punctures. I never got to see him after that, and afterwards the family fell apart, and everyone used his death for attention, even though he was my only friend and I was his. The same reason I feel at fault is because it should have been me in that truck, not him. Thank you for reading my confession, and I wish anyone who is listening a good day. I think I was the last person to see my neighbor alive. Confession. Hi, Snook, my name is Parker. I've been following you since January of this year, and I've probably watched all of your videos. I really enjoy everything you do. I just watched your recent

Confessions video and finally had the courage to send in my own. As my email said, I think I was the last person to see my neighbor alive. I'm now 22 years old, but this took place in 2017 when I was 14. I live in a small village in the mountains surrounded by woods in Europe. To give some more context, my family and I all live relatively close together. Here next to my house, lived my neighbor, I think he was about 68 at that time, who was very mentally ill. My grandma told me that his mother suffered from schizophrenia and that she broke later on in live. That summer, my neighbor would constantly walk into our property. He even followed me and my friends when I had a big party.

In some European countries, there is this tradition that when he turned 14, you are beginning your path into adulthood. So we celebrate that with food, alcohol, often the first alcohol we get to drink, and lots of money from family and friends. Often kids invite neighbors and other friends from around to hang out and be away from the adults to drink alone. So me and my three friends went to a playground not far from my home to drink and goof around. After a bit, we went back to my party, and when we approached the house, I saw him stand on the edge of the house with a cigarette, peering around the corner. We kind of got spooked and turned around and he began to follow us. We ran ahead and jumped the fence to get back to the house. I went to find my dad and grandpa, and they told him to go home.

At this point, he couldn't form sentences or even words, so all he would do is grumble and grunt. He also fomed at the mouth. It was genuinely very scary. Anyways, my mom's friends came to visits, and we were sitting outside my house. There's a path from the front of my house to the door where we are sitting. My mother was telling this story and was sitting with her back to the path when me and her friends all went quiet and pale, because he was standing directly behind her. Thankfully, my dad came outside at that moment and told him to go away. A few weeks later, me, my dad, and my cousin, and her kids and my grandma were hanging out in front of my house because my dad had just gotten into a new car.

He was showing some family members while I was playing with the kids when I saw that neighbor standing behind my dad's car. He was wearing a dress shirt, sweatpants, and loafers were house shoes. My grandma told him to go away. Ten minutes later, he came back wearing dressed pants and dress shoes. He was gesturing around kind of yelling, but we could have make sense. My grandma and dad told him again to leave and he finally did. That summer, the unbearable heat in my insomnia, made it hard for me to sleep. I was sitting by my window scrolling on my phone when I heard a weird metal clanking noise.

I looked outside and my neighbor was standing outside its gate, opening it over and over again. He then went on to walk to my property and walked towards my garden. I started running downstairs to see where he was going. I could kind of see him walking around and then go on to the path and walk away. I went back to the bed and awoke the next morning to police sirens and helicopters flying over. I was supposed to meet my cousin to plan our son's birthday. We wanted to have a treasure hunt in the woods, so we marked some trees and buried a chest I had with toys and sweets for the kids.

On our way, we walked past his house and some police officers stopped us. They asked if we knew anything, and I told him what I saw. They said his wife went to bed before him and woke up around 6 a.m. to him missing, so I was officially the lasisium. But because I was a minor without a parent, they weren't allowed to take my information. But they told us that if I remembered anything else to come out of the last, out of the pre-incident. The following weeks, they searched the woods with helicopters and dogs but found nothing.

Me and my parents were in the garden when we found a plastic cover with papers in them. They were letters my neighbors wrote in, which he said that he was being followed by strangers, that a young woman was trying to seduce him, but he loved his wife so deeply, even though she was disabled. He would never leave her. It was all very incoherent and strange. He said he was scared and didn't know what to do. We all came to my conclusion that he left.

these when he came to our garden that night I saw him. We wanted to go to the police the next day, but that morning he was found. He was found in one of the entries to our woods, face down in leaves beside the walking path. He was found by a man walking his dog early in the morning. We heard through the grapevine that he was missing his shoe, his clothes torn, all scratched up and dirty. The police never released an official statement in his father, who is still alive, said that he thinks his son was murdered. But we don't know what to make a of it. A month later, a young man, my cousin knew from school, also went missing. It was found dead near where my neighbor was found. A few years later, a girl went missing in the woods

and was never found. My grandma said that she heard tales of people disappearing in our woods and neither being found dead near the entries and exits of our woods or are never found. I genuinely don't know what happened to my neighbors in those other people. It couldn't have been animals as their bodies had no indication of such, it's just really strange. I don't really talk about this because I feel guilty. I should have woken up my parents and called the police when I saw maybe they could have found him in time. Thank you, Snook, for letting me tell my story and creating a safe space for others to do so as well. Confession. I killed my cousin's bunny. Hello, Snook, I find the videos you make very interesting and would like to confess my story as well. First of all, thank you for

giving me a way to express my feelings and, I hope, help guide others so that they do not make the same mistakes I did. Please allow me to remain anonymous while I write this story. My cousin, A, who was female, got herself a boyfriend, M, who was male. He got her a bunny as a present at some point, and it was the cutest thing in the world. His name was Zeus. He was completely white with black patches around both his eyes and his ears and half a snout. I would go up to my cousin's balcony and spend ridiculous amounts of time just petting and playing with Zeus. Zeus lived in a very contained cage, originally meant for hamsters and such, so he was not able to grow properly and was relatively small for the first three years of his life. Then my cousin and her boyfriend moved out

of the country, and since I was quite attending to Zeus, they gave him to me to care for. For the first time, he was able to roam freely around a house. And with my then-closed-minded parents not realizing that he can have accidents while roaming, he would pat his head and lightly hit him whenever he made a mess. It didn't make a difference at all. He was just scared of us, so he wouldn't come out at all that often, and that meant he was already positioned in his litter box whenever he had to go. This bias translated into us thinking we did the right thing into training him. Two years later, we had a very rainy November, and since we lived in a developing part of the world, we just placed his cage outside and didn't think much of it. Until the rain started getting to his

his cage. I still tried feeding him and giving him water while Zeus was a very sensitive animal and couldn't even properly groom himself at that point. The next day, I saw the real damage of what had been done. His cage had one inch of fluids inside it. Some rainwater, some of his urine and feces. His legs were losing their fur because of their exposure to the fluid. He was extremely tired and barely responsive due to the exhaustion because he wouldn't have been able to sit or lay down to sleep for almost 24 hours. And there's a good chance he also drank some of the fluid. We couldn't get in touch with any of the vets in the area, and we had to take matters into our own hands. We got him a slightly warm bath and spent a lot of time taking turns, drying him with towels

and a dryer, not knowing that giving them a bath makes bunnies ill. We thought it was a good idea. I think it was at least better than letting him groom himself again and having him clean his messy fur with his mouth. After that, I wrapped him in a towel and held him up against me as long as I could so that he could get my body heat. The next morning, I went to school. When I came back, I was informed.

he died. I killed him. Me being irresponsible of another life is something I will never let happen again. I have another rabbit now and he's extremely happy and gets loads of treats, playtime, and space to roam, dig, and hide. But I will remember Zeus as the helpless pet whose death I am responsible for. Rest in peace, Zeus. And with that, sad, final confession, that wraps up today's video. I really hope everyone in this video, if you're still watching, if you did submit a confession, you guys can hopefully learn to move on, learn to forgive yourself. And I really hope you guys are all doing great. And if you'd like to see your confession in a future video,

please send to the email that was provided on screen in the beginning of the video. I read through them all, and I really appreciate you guys watching to the end. And yeah, I'm glad I can provide the safe space for many of you. and it really means, you know, I hope it means a lot. Thank you so much for watching. Like I said, please like and subscribe. It helps so much. And with that, being said, this is Snook.

And I'll see you next time. Bye.