Snook - Horrifying Anonymous Confessions

Episode Date: June 16, 2025

follow and rate 5 stars! Thank you so much! You all are the best Also, sorry for late episode! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys. Welcome back to another anonymous confessions video. You guys have been loving these confessions videos a lot, and I've been loving recording them and giving some feedback on your guys' confessions. I really appreciate your guys' openness with me and just the channel and everyone watching. I really hope it helps, and I think it does. So that's really awesome to hear. And before we get into it, please like the video and subscribe to the channel. And if you'd like to see your confession in a future video, please send to the email on screen now. I appreciate all of you. You guys are the best. And, uh, all right, without further ado, let's get into some horrifying anonymous confessions. It's been a long time since this happened. And I just wanted to get this off my chest, as I don't really want anyone I'm close to

finding out about this. My dad had died a few weeks ago of an enlargest blood vessel in his brain bursting. All I can say is I hope it hurt a lot. I genuinely wish that he suffered in his final moments, like how he made me suffer. See, he used to be incredibly abusive to me. He would be perfectly fine towards my sisters, but to me in particular, he would refuse to allow me to do anything. Wanted to watch TV? No. Wanted to talk without previously being told to do so? Unacceptable. Wanted to use the family laptop? Absolutely not. I wasn't allowed to use the Chromebooks my school provided when I had them. I had to wait until he went to bed to try and use it to do my work. And as a result, I was always tired, and as a result of that, my grades suffered. And as a

result of that, I would be punished for it. Whenever my sisters would screw something up and get in trouble, it seems there was a hierarchy of how much trouble we would get in. One of my sisters would never receive any punishment, as she was his little pumpkin. My second sister would just get her electronics taken away for a few weeks, but for me, he would beat me. I don't know why he singled me out for this. I really don't. Maybe it's because I was his only son and he wanted just daughters. Maybe it's because he figured people wouldn't give as much of a shit if I was being abused compared to my sisters. He threw out all of my t-shirts and tank tops and I was only allowed to wear hoodies and turtlenecks to hide all the bruises, even in the middle of the summer. I hated him. I still do.

Anytime my sister would screw up, he'd deny it. Oh, his little pumpkin could never do anything wrong. How could that be possible? She was the smart twin after all. The one who was the one who was, with the future, the one who ever loved. I sincerely do not know why he singled me out. I wasn't allowed to have a door. My room just had books my sisters didn't want to read because they had tablets and computers and hand me down bed. I was only allowed to read, go to the bathroom, and eat dinner after my dad had his. I don't know if it's because, like I said, maybe he just wanted girls or maybe I was a twin he didn't want since, I mean, when having twins, one is always unplanned. My sisters didn't rat him out because he'd always give them what they wanted and told them

that if they'd tell the school staff what he did to me, that he would go to prison and they wouldn't get what they wanted anymore. He seemed fine when in public. Had a decent job, interacted fine when in public, he just told people that I was shy or that I had some mental disorder or whatever. But as soon as we got home, it's like a switch flipped. Anytime I feel certain times of leather, I get severe panic attacks. After every beating, he would tell me that if I told anyone about what he did to me, he would kill me before the police could take me away. It was a miserable life at that point, and that's putting it lightly. I may have been alive, but I wasn't living.

Constantly in fear, hiding behind my bed and hoping he wouldn't see me, stacking books near the bed frame to try to block it, so when he comes looking for me, I could hide and hopefully not be seen. It all came to a point where one day he was beating me with his belt in, the buckle lodged in my forearm and broke the belt. He did not stop beating me with it, even after the belt was broken. If anything, me breaking his favorite belt made him angrier. He only stopped when I threw up on the carpet from crying so hard.

That night I ran away to my grandparents, waited until he wanted to sleep and hauled ass on foot. We didn't visit often as they had cut contact with him. They were completely different from him. I don't know why he turned out the way he did. Maybe some people are just born evil. My aunt and uncle turned out fine. I don't know. I just stayed with my grandparents after this.

They called the cops. It was a whole thing, but we managed to keep quiet to avoid getting any unwanted attention. I had to get stitches. When the hospital removed the belt buckle, I remember seeing some of the fat in my arm come with it. That was in the worst experience of my life. It's been a while since then. We insisted the case be kept low profile. My dad was found guilty due to all the abuse I suffered.

And my sisters cut all contact with me. I assume because now they won't get whatever they will. want for my dad. I don't know if it was stress relief. I don't know if he just hated me or if I did something without realizing. Just I've been subscribed to you for a while now, or at least since your Ocean Mysteries iceberg, but since you started the confession videos, I was considering talking about what had happened. Hearing from my grandparents that my dad died was the happiest experience of my life. I hope you folks understand why. I don't want kids, not after how I was raised. I don't want to risk becoming him or easing into that kind of behavior. I don't want to perpetuate the cycle because

I can't trust myself on just my word to say, I'll raise them better than I was. I don't know. Last I heard of my sisters, they were trying to see a lawyer over who gets what for my dad's possessions as my mom died from COVID back in 2021. I don't want to talk to them. Sorry if this was formatted or organized weird. I just wanted to dump all of this out there for you. Please keep me anonymous. Thank you so much for, you know, trusting me with this story. And I'm glad the confession videos have kind of helped you out. And just, I really appreciate you watching the channel and saying those nice words. And I'm really sorry you have to go through that. And in all honesty, I understand why you feel that way about your father passing. I would too. So I don't

think you should feel bad for feeling that way, since I can't imagine how you felt throughout those years of suffering. And I really hope you're doing better now. Um, If I had to recommend anything, it would be find a therapist, find someone to talk to, and just kind of vent all this out multiple times, talk to someone who's, you know, also experienced it maybe, and someone who hasn't, like a therapist. And I think that could just really help you out, just getting in off your chest, talking about it, and really just letting go of all this trauma. I really think it could help you, and I hope it does. But, you know, this is the first step towards, you know, recovering and getting it all off your mind.

But I hope you're doing better now. And I hope your life keeps going well. Thank you so much for sharing. And on to the next one. Hi, Snook. First, I wanted to say that I love that you're giving people a place to vent out things. They've been keeping bottled up inside, myself included. Now, my confession, I nearly witnessed my friend's death, sort of.

We both don't talk about this that much, because truthfully, we're somewhat in the wrong for this. It was the summer. We both were around 17. Two stupid teenage boys. My friend just got his license, and we wanted to explore parts of our state. The more rural areas. We both live closer to the city. It was my idea to sneak out one night, knowing both of our parents wouldn't allow us to go on our own. Meeting up at a nearby park, getting situated, then we hit the road. The drive there was fine. No one was really out on the road. It was close to 1 a.m. We happily chatted about random things before I cut the conversation and pointed out a building. my father would always tell me stories about the building. It was an old asylum. I convinced my friend to find a way closer. He obliged. There was no parking lot, if it even had one. Once he stopped the car, I hopped out, walking closer to the building. I would have tried to find a way in if my friend didn't grab me and pull me back to the car. It confused me. Usually, he was super excited to explore abandoned places. Shoving me back towards his car, I felt something was off now. My friend had to have broken a few speed limits driving away from the asylum. I kept trying to ask what his issue was.

He wasn't answering me. I must have pissed him off enough that he just yelled at me to shut up. I did. We drove for at least 30 more minutes in silence, eventually coming up to some sort of field. The road was a dirt road. My friend just parked in the middle of the road, having the headlights pointed towards the field. I honestly forgot that my friend was so antsy earlier. I got out of the car walking through the field. I still don't know what it was. It really doesn't matter. I heard my friend calling for me again, yelling my name. I nearly didn't turn around. I wish I hadn't.

Looking back at my friend, seeing him get back into the driver's seat, it was a sign for me to come back to the car. I was about to start walking back, but I stopped, screeching tires, revving of an engine, then smashing metal. I stood in the field, watching as a truck purposely slammed into the side of my friend's car. I knew it was on purpose because the truck didn't stop. The truck pushed the car a good couple of feet before it ended the car. up, nose down in the ditch. I stayed in the field for a moment, watching as the truck kept driving

away. Once it was clear, I sprinted to my friend's car, praying he was still alive. Thankfully, he was, though he was bleeding a lot. Multiple cuts and scrapes, and he wanted to call his parents. I told him he was insane. We ended up calling his older sister. She swore to not tell her parents. She paid for a tow truck to get his car out of the ditch, and the ER visit my friend had. We didn't tell a sister about the truck, nor us visiting the asylum. Honestly, I don't think she would even care. The lie we fabricated was lame, his sister took his car into a wreck, and my friend came to help her with his car. I wasn't included in the story. They lied about me being with them. My friend also told me that he saw the truck at the asylum. That was the reason he wanted to get away from it so fast.

I still think about that night. I could have been killed if I had gotten into my friend's car quicker. Also, why did whoever was driving the truck do what they did? I honestly feel guilty. Maybe if we hadn't stopped at the asylum, we wouldn't have caught the attention of that truck and my friend wouldn't have been almost killed. That's my confession. Feel free to share your opinions. I'd love to hear what you and the viewers think of this.

Thank you again. Can't wait for all your future videos. Thank you, someone for sharing this. And in my opinion, I don't think you should, you know, feel guilty. because from what you outlined and what you said inside your story, it seems like a freak accident of, you know, someone seeing you guys and wanted to take it out on you. I don't know.

That was kind of weird. I don't know why he would have wanted to hit you or hit your friend's car and, you know, hit and run. But I don't think you should feel guilty of wanting to go to the asylum, wanted to do this, wanted to do that. I just think a lot of weird stuff happened. And I don't think you should feel guilty, though. At least your friend is alive.

That could have ended up a lot worse. But I don't think you should feel guilty. I think it was a freak accident or some... You got the attention of some weirdo driving a truck and he wanted to kill you. I'm really glad you're okay and hopefully your friend is still doing all right. But I don't think you should feel guilty. Everyone watching, please comment down below. What you think about that story?

Yeah, just what are your guys' opinions? I'll read them. and yeah, thank you for sharing. On to the next one. Hey, I'm fairly new to your channel, but already enjoying listening to the stories and confessions. Here is my confession. My mother has been raised by horrible people.

I do not want to share too many details, but my mother suffered a lot as a young child. As a result, my mother develops severe mental issues and continues to struggle to this day. She's over 70 now. She has been unable to keep a job and has been absent for large parts of my life due to admission to mental hospitals, depression, and debilitating anxiety. Needless to say, the mistreatment she endured caused for me as her child

to suffer as well, as growing up with a parent with severe mental issues has its own challenges. Anyway, regardless of her upbringing, her parents have always been a part of her life. She has always felt obligated to look after them as they grew older. After my grandmother passed away, my mother continued to look after my grandfather. We had many calls. conversations about this, but she simply did not have the mental strength to cut ties. Of course, I respected her decision to keep him in her life, and because I did not want to make it any more difficult for her, I chose not to actively push him out and caught off contact myself. I rarely saw him, and when I did, I did it for my mother. Then my grandfather fell ill.

He was already at a respectable age and was transferred to a hospital. I saw my mother withering away as she continued to look after him. The nurses slash caretaker saw him. her as their main contact and she had to make a lot of decisions. Eventually she was so stressed out that I offered to join in on the conversations with the nurse slash caretakers. She gladly, finally accepted. As my grandfather got worse, we knew he would pass soon and we had to decide on medication. My mother was drained and I just felt so much anger and frustration about this man, still getting the best of her. When the nurse slash caretaker wanted to talk to us about sedatives, I pushed for him to get the max the dose. I did not.

not care. I just wanted him gone. I am a pacifist, but he brought out my dark side. They warned us that we would be unable to talk to him, unable to say her goodbyes, but I kept pushing for them to max the dose. I told them that we saw how restless he was, which was the truth, and that we did not want him to have to experience such distress in its last days. Not true. I just did not want my mother to have to witness his distress and feel guilty for not be able to do anything for this man who ruined the best of her life. They were apprehensive, but because I played the, we do not want him to suffer card, they agreed. They maxed the dose, and soon after, my grandfather passed away. I have never felt any guilt, which kind of surprises me, because I am usually very soft-hearted and mellow. As I grew older,

I mostly feel sad that someone can pass without anyone really mourning them. He could have been a wonderful man and father. He could have listened to my mother when she tried to talk to him about the past instead of denying any wrongdoing. At any time, he could have thanked my mother for everything she did for him, but he never did. He never tried to make her feel appreciated, seeing, and loved. What a waste. I have the most loving, soft, heart of mother who spent her life working hard to improve her mental health. I'm grateful for the time we did get to share, and still do get to share together. Mostly, I'm grateful for the grandmother she gets to be because of all the hard work she has done to stabilize our issues. My children love her to bits, and so do I. Thank you for reading my story.

Not sure if it qualifies as a confession, but it feels good to have it out there. Keep up the good work. Mays. Hey there, Snook, I really love your videos and deeply appreciate what you're doing for the community via your anonymous confession videos. My confession has to do with alcoholism and addiction, and I hope my story can help someone out there. I hope it's not too long and please keep me in my email anonymous, though I know you will anyway. I'm a recovering alcoholic. I'll go to AA meetings a few times a week. It's been very helpful for me in working with my problems and being surrounded by people who have been through what I have. In the program, at some point in your recovery, you have to make amends to people you have hurt or who you have affected by your use of

substances. I'm nervous to get to this part, of course. Everyone is. It's difficult to lay yourself bare and apologize up front and clearly about the ways you've harmed them. Honesty is one of the main rules of working the AA program, but there's one thing I feel like I need to keep inside. Don't worry, it's probably not as bad as you think. I didn't kill anyone or anything, L.O.L. One time, a few years ago, during the height of my usage, my cousin was visiting us, and I was really excited. I'd never met someone outside of my immediate family before. I knew he didn't drink and was actively sober, so my family and I put away the bottles of alcohol to make him feel safe.

Well, one of the things that I loved doing during my drinking career was, drinking around people secretly and trying my best not to get caught or found out. It gave me a rush of exhilaration trying to be sneaky, drinking more and more and testing how long I could keep up the game. It was fun for me. That was one of the main issues when I was drinking. Doing dangerous or bad things secretly would make me feel good and proud of myself, getting away with it all.

Well, I snuck into my mom's room where we had hidden the alcohol when my cousin was over and drank a lot. Straight from the bottle. Being an alcoholic for a long time, you stop counting shots because it doesn't matter. People count to keep track of how much they drink, but there's no need to count if you know you're just going to drink the whole bottle. Anyway, I drank a lot, and I pretended I was fine and hadn't drank it all. It was fun. It made me feel good secretly drinking around someone who was sober and in recovery. I did win the game.

I had crafted, no one's suspected anything, and I didn't feel bad. But I do now. Looking back at my drinking career and the people I've affected is very difficult. It's hard understand your past mistakes and come to terms with that. That was one of the mistakes that I had made. It doesn't matter that my cousin didn't know and that I had won my game because I was the only one who knew. I am the one that knows what I've done, and I'm sorry. The reason I don't want to make am amends up to him is because he didn't know. I don't know if I should tell him because he didn't even know. I know it probably should because it lifts a weight off my shoulders. I know that, but he and I aren't really close anyways, and I don't want to put distance between us since there are already a gap.

All I know is that I knew I was the one doing those things. I got away with something affected by alcohol, not knowing, but there was one person that I knew, and it was me. To my cousin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that to you. Around you. It was so shitty of me, and I haven't forgiven myself. I know addiction makes you do horrible things. You would never think or do, but at the end of the day, I'm still the one that chose to do it. To your viewers, answer to you. subscribers. I have just celebrated 10 months sober and I'm getting better. I'm working hard to better my life and to make up for the pain I've caused. If you are struggling with substance abuse or know someone who is, seek help. Therapy is so helpful and so is AA. They will always support and help you.

Addiction is a curse and I hope you are able to get the help you need. Anonymous confession. I was a disturbed child. I-21 male have on some awful things as a child. Things I deeply regret but can't take back. I don't remember when exactly it started, but let's say around eight years old, I started fighting them with my older sister. Not just your regular sibling fights, but with actual intent to hurt. I started drawing patterns in my head for which moves her harder the most during our fights and my go-to-instant wind move was to punch her with a fist on her back between her shoulder blades. It would knock the air out of her, making it hard for her to breathe. And at that point, she always gave up.

Besides our fist fights, I also stabbed her with a pen, threw stones at her, pushed her into barbed wire, and once I held a fork against the flame on our gas stove and branded her with it. The worst thing I did could have killed her. One time our dad brought us to a project he was constructing and she was playing around in the driver's seat of a pickup truck. I picked up a big stone and threw it at her head, though, the open passenger side window, but I luckily missed it by a few centimeters, and the stone smashed through the closed window

on her side of the truck. After realizing what happened, my dad took me to a dark room and beat the shit out of me, which I fully deserved. I was also a known thief, stealing from grocery stores, classmates, and even teachers. I was caught multiple times, but I was also slick with my many lies, so I always managed to squeeze my way out of trouble. Besides that, I was also very aggressive. Always getting into heated and sometimes physical arguments with my cousins, uncles, aunts, parents, and even grandparents. If that wasn't bad enough, though, this next part will be.

We used to have a big outdoor aviary for our parakeets, but after we found new owners for them, we got around eight to nine guinea pigs and kept them in the aviary because it was nice and spacious for them. One day, though, something possessed me to enter the aviary and kill them all. I threw them against the walls, against the floor, outside of the door, kicked them, punched them, whatever it took.

I had to kill them. Till this day, I don't know what the fuck was wrong with me as a child, but thankfully, I changed. and have moral values now. I agree to accept the fact that I can't change the past, but I haven't been able to forgive myself for the pain I've caused the people around me. I've never done anything like this before, so forgive me if my writing seems a little stilted or stiff.

Thinking about this just makes me uncomfortable. Back in my teens, to my detriment, I was a very go-with-the-flow kind of person. I won't waste too much time on the small details, just know that this mentally would sink me into worse, worse crowds until I found myself sitting next to my then-boyfriend listening passively as he planned how he would steal his friend's brand-new TV. It was the friend's idea to steal it from his own parents. We were a bunch of fucking degenerates, I swear. I know it may sound wrong, but this wasn't what

gnaz at me. That night, I was told to hang back and not get involved in any way. Lying say that I didn't even know my ex-iff things went south. Of course I didn't listen, not a bad feeling. I followed about a block behind them and stayed hidden. All of a sudden, all three of the boys that were involved were sentenced past me, still hidden, back in the direction of the house we were staying at. Then I saw him. The degenerate friend's seven-year-old little brother had seen my ex in the window trying to break in and followed him down the street at like three in the morning.

Then I did something that affected this kid for at least as long as I stayed around that group of people. My stone rolled on, and he was still having nightmares. I fully convinced this poor child that the very real person that woke him out of his sleep was a dream. This is pretty much where the story ends because nobody connected the fact that he was having nightmares to the fact that he was taking naps after school instead of playing with the neighborhood kids. And we damn sure didn't connect the nightmares of the gas lighting. We were too high on synthetic weeds to even think about it. This realization didn't come to me until I was pregnant and had stopped using long before for the fog to clear. I have a nine-year-old now and thinking about the psychological effect that,

I could have had on that child gets profoundly more real, more shameful, and more embarrassing at this year's past. For anyone that might be concerned for my child currently, this was a very unstable point in my life, and I'm fully grounded now. I live in a very suburban life, and the boredom is the best kind of peace you could imagine. Thanks for listening, even if it doesn't end up in a video. Aenon. Hi, dear Snook, you got the best videos, and I love your confession videos, so I wanted to send mine.

You can call me Nasa. So, I have auto-cannibalism, aka self-cannibalism. I eat my own skin and flesh. This is due to OCD and wanted to shine some light on this and would like for people to understand. My cannibalistic tendencies started with eating nails. Very normal and was caused by stress at school. I didn't think much of this back in the day, but looking back, this is the point many other people have this condition start from.

Slowly it developed into eating the skin around my nails and slowly into eating and ripping the skin around my hand. After doing this for like two months, I realized that the skin on my foot was easier to rip apart. For eight months, I ripped and ate the skin on my feet, and you can only imagine how it felt to walk. I developed a constant limp, and even nowadays, I can't walk without pain of my feet. The right foot got it worse due to my ability to bend it better to get access to the bottom of the feet. It wasn't all about eating the feet's skin, although it got to the worst. I would bite the inside of my lip until it bled and looked like I had swallowed a fucking razor blade. How to use box cutters to cut my own gums apart due to the good taste.

Well, it all ended this one night. Till this night, nobody knew about this literal addiction that had haunted me. Me and a buddy wanted to try some weed for the first time. I'm not good with any drugs, and apparently there was something more than just normal weed in that blunt. For what my buddy told me, after some blows, I started to go apeshit and locked myself in the bathroom where I ripped my arm's skin open and try to eat its flesh. Fast forward a couple days, and my doctor realizes all my open wounds, are self-made, put me with the therapist where I opened about my problems and get diagnosed with OCD, auto-cannibalism, and PTSD due to past drama. Nowadays, I'm out of the psych ward and doing better.

Apparently, my OCD didn't know how to handle the PTSD or something that got fucked, but I got med, so I'm good for now. Anyways, awesome channel, and keep going. Thank you for sharing this, and I think it brings up a good point. I'm glad you're doing better now, and what I kind of want to get into is OCD and that sort of stuff. I think OCD is one of the most misunderstood mental disorders. Every single, almost every single, you know, post I've read, confession I've read, disturbing Reddit user or whatever, a lot of it stems from OCD, just kind of like the wanting to do something over and over again. I think it's just such a misunderstood, you know, mental disorder because so many people think it's just like, oh, I want to have, you know, my pencil in order

on my desk. I want to have blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. We're in reality, sure, or maybe you just want that. But OCD can lead to things such as this, which we just read, auto-cannibalism, something horrible. And I'm glad you're doing better now for the person who shared this. I really am glad you're better now, but if any of you out there are suffering from OCD, it can be a downward spiral very fast and lead to some horrible, horrible things. And it's just can tear your life apart, tear your mind apart, tear your body apart, literally. And, you know, I think if you think you start with something like OCD, like that, I would get help. Talk to somebody.

It can help you out because, you know, OCD really can be a downward spiral and just kind of feed it into itself. It only get worse. So if you think you need help, please get help. Talk to somebody. It will only help you out in the long run. Mental health is so important. Anyways, thank you so much for sharing and on to the next one. I know it's been week since you posted about wanting to have subscriber confessions, but listening to the video, I realized that so many people were confessing things they did as children.

They were very dark, and I realized maybe I could finally get this off my chest. This is my deepest, darkest secret. I'm honestly terrified to write this, but I desperately need someone's opinion on this. I grew up in an abusive home. Father did drugs, then my mom left him, remarried, but my home life was horrible. I was often belittled, humiliated, and a few times my stepdad would randomly hit me. I'd witnessed an attempted murder as a small child and many other things, and was just not right in the head. I was diagnosed with many mental illnesses by the age of 12.

One day, I came home from school and just had this terrible impulse. I can't quite tell why I did what I did. If I'm honest with myself, I thought doing this would potentially give my family a fresh start. I thought maybe doing this would get someone to pay attention to me in the mental agony I was in. I s-aged by this time. I took a lighter and let the hamper in my parents' room on fire. I immediately tried to get all the pets out, and I managed to get all but one. I ran back into the house once the fire grew out of control to save a few of our pets.

I genuinely have no idea why I did what I did. I was never a violent or angry kid. I was a scared, neglected one. The house was destroyed, and they had to rebuild a new one. The cops questioned me, and I had to rebuild a new one. The cops questioned me and I lied and lied and lied. They never ended up catching me. But maybe, had I been honest, the guilt wouldn't have eaten me the way it has.

It's been over a decade and I often pray to God to forgive me for what I've done. I hurt my family. We lost a cat. We lost everything. All because of me. I have never done something like this again. After this event, my mental health deteriorated so quickly that I ended up spending some months in a psych ward.

and I never told them the true reason why. I felt like I needed to be punished, like I deserved to suffer for what I did. I'm now 24, and my mental health is so poor. I've attempted to end my life twice. I've gone in and out of psych units, and I have taken eight plus pills a day. I can't work, I can't live alone.

I have schizoaffective disorder and struggle with the idea that I'd be damned to hell. I know I deserve it, that's for sure. I had a dream after it all about the cat we lost, where he sat on my lap purring before leaving me, I will never, ever forgive myself for being responsible for his death. I saved six pets. I failed him.

I failed my entire family. To say I saved the pets as wrong because I created the danger. I'm working so hard to become the best me I can be. I'm in therapy in my mental health program, but I've never discussed this because I can't bear the shame. I'm a coward. I will forever be haunted by what I did. Perhaps it was a cry for help, but it was an insane one.

It was truly evil. Sending this email is one of the hardest things I've done in a while. It's hard to be honest with myself about my actions. No one should feel bad for me, because this is a situation entirely created by me, and that's the worst part. That is it. That's my confession. Even if you don't feature this in a video, I'd love response because fuck. I feel like this one event will.

haunt me till the day I die. The day I am sent straight to hell. Thank you so much for sharing this, and I can obviously tell you really wanted to get this off your chest. And I think that's the only way you're going to move past this. Like you said, it's been over a decade since this happened, and it's still weighing heavily on your mind. I really think this is the first step towards forgiving yourself. And maybe if you never forgive yourself, somebody can forgive you, whether they'll be a therapist, family member, me, the viewers of this channel, I think you need to talk to people. You can't keep this bottled up.

This is too much trauma to keep to yourself. And I've said that to everybody that sends in a confession. Talk to somebody, a therapist, a family member, a trusted friend, whatever. It's just important to talk to somebody. Don't keep it inside. I really think you can get help, get your life and your mental on the upper trajectory. I believe in you. And I really, really think you can do it.

and yeah, I just really think you should talk to somebody. Every single person who sent in a confession and they say their life is on the up and up is after they talk to a friend. So please talk to somebody. I believe you can get better and I believe you can forgive yourself and move on. And you did mention hell a lot of times, so it makes me wonder if you believe in religion. Maybe, you know, trying to focus on a philosophy or a some sort of religion, whether that be Christianity, you know, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, whatever.

I think a lot of those different religions can really help you and help you forgive yourself. So I really don't think you're damned to hell. I think it's a horrible way to walk through life. Don't believe you're damned to hell. Go get someone to forgive you. Talk to somebody. And you can move on from this. You're stronger than you think.

And I believe in you. So does everyone else watching. Thank you so much for sending this in and being vulnerable. This is the first step to move forward. You got this man. All right. Thank you so much for sending. On to the next one.

Hey, Snook, I'm a new subscriber. So far, all of your content I've binge has been great. I'm from a state in the Midwest. I needed a change in my life due to the feelings of arrested development and an increasingly sedentary lifestyle becoming a real concern. I've worked in the automotive industry

for many years now, and it's not like I'm even at a job. I love turning wrenches, training up, and coming mechanics and seeing the relief and appreciation of the faces of happy customers. About 10 years ago, my company started expanding big time. This expansion included a particular southern state, one that my young son lived in with his mom.

My boss and his boss, and even his boss, knew of my intentions to move down there to be in his life. I was immediately chosen to take over multiple occasions in this new southern market. After getting situated in about six months, I started to put some focus on finding a girlfriend, with my final goal to be married one day soon. I was living in an apartment that had your typical laundry room. One day, a woman was finishing hers as I walked in to start mine. We exchanged hello's and she left. I started my wash and walked back to my building.

As I was walked by, I looked over and saw the same woman watering a small plant she had set up in a common area of the complex. Later, as I went back to get my clothes, I left a note under the pot with my number and an invitation to meet up. The next day, she called me, and things took off. We instantly clicked, laughing, getting real, waxing philosophical, and eventually having an amazing physical connection. She met my son. She spent the night.

She brought me lunch, the whole nine. One day I came home and saw a note saying that we were over. No more relationship ever. I was legit crushed, but I moved on. One day, my son and I were swimming, and I saw her with what turned out to be her husband. I was shocked and disgusted. I'm a believer in monogamy, seriously. A week later, I'm walking to the laundry room again.

and there they are, on the tailgate of her truck drinking. They immediately started cussing, insulting, and provoking me. I told the dude that I had no idea he even existed, and her that she's pathetic and she needs serious help. As I'm walking back to my place, they jump in front of me and block me from getting to my door. He advances on me holding a knife and beer bottles as weapons. Being from a concealed carry state and now living in another one,

I put my hand near my waistline, ready to draw. I stumbled back and begged him to stop coming after me. I screamed. from one father to another, please don't do this. He immediately stopped and the fire left his eyes. I went back in my apartment shaking and crying. I never saw them after that. Don't know if they moved with what. Ever since that day, like 10 years ago, I cannot come to terms with it. I cry when no one's around. I have nightmares. I can't stop thinking how close I came. He came. We all came to a disaster. Therapy is not helping. My son, stepdaughters, and wife don't know how to help.

Only my wife knows the details. The kids just know that I'm sad about something. I still enjoy target shooting at the range with my son, but every time we go, I get this twinge of PTSD. I'm glad everyone walked away from this situation. I'm glad I'm not some maniac looking for a conflict. Sorry for the long story. Thank you for all the content.

I'm a happy subscriber. And hey, man, thank you so much for sharing this, and I really think you should forgive yourself because, you know, you showed restraint. you could have easily drawn him. And you didn't even draw on him. That was a scary situation. And I think he had every right to feel the way you did.

I don't think you were wrong because you just didn't know she was married and she kind of went into you because, I mean, you know, she chose that. And he was just an asshole who luckily also didn't keep going after you. But I don't think you should feel bad. And PTSD can be a real thing, especially with that sort of stuff. Like you said, therapy isn't helping, but you know, it could be the wrong therapist. You really could. Maybe find another therapist if you can, find a friend to talk to, find, you know, maybe a group of people who have been caught in circumstances like that, kind of self-defense situations. I know those groups exist.

Maybe find people like you who have been in similar situations. It was an unfortunate situation, but it could have been a lot worse. and I think you should just remember that, that I think everything ended the best way it could. I don't think you should blame yourself that she's cheating. You didn't know any better, and I think it's all right. I really think you should forgive yourself, man, and you'll get better.

Just talk to people. I believe in you. Thank you so much for sending. On to the next one. Hey, Snook, I watched your recent video about anonymous confessions and wanted to share one of mine. With you, I'm in my late 20s, and I'm working as a physician.

I never really wasn't interested in medicine, but I digress. I live in a country where training is a big issue for medical students. During my years in college, I had no practical knowledge at all. Couldn't even give a person an I-M injection. Couldn't even prescribe medication without looking up drug names on the internet. This is because for the whole duration of college, we are graded on textbook knowledge only, which is important as a foundation, but in practice, it's not enough. Due to my lack of practice experience, after graduation,

I had many cases that could be labeled under malpractice as how I handled them. I was trying the best I could to manage the cases presented to me, but as I said, my lack of experience was the determined factor here. It starts with my years in internship, where I was thrown in ER alone with out senior guidance to filter cases for the senior doctors. This led to some critical cases being marked as chronic for follow-up, which looking back at it probably led to them having permanent injury because of this. Also, I was given the task of stitching wounds.

I had never held a medical forceps or a needle holder at that point, but I had to do it. Some even face injuries after some time. I was working in a health unit in some rural area. One of my duties there was issuing death certificates after diagnosing death, reporting unnatural deaths to the police. I remember one day I got a call from a senior doctor about a 13-year-old girl that had died and they needed me to go to handle it. When it's someone that young, it raised a suspicion.

The family arrived at the unit, and I went with them to their house, and they had her lying on the bed. She was certainly deceased, but I couldn't find a plausible cause. After getting some history from the parents, it seemed like she maybe had a brain infection. I thought viral meningitis, maybe. That's what I wrote in the death certificate. Just when I got home, I remembered organofosophate poisoning, which was a common way of S-word and rural area in my country, and to match the symptoms she had.

called the senior doctor, told them about my suspicions, and they dismissed it. One of the employees in my health unit told me doctors here never alert the police about unnatural deaths unless I had a weapon involved, but drowning or overdosing isn't reported. You may think I live in a pretty chaotic place, and you will be right. Thank you so much for sharing this, and I really think you shouldn't feel that bad about that. You know, maybe you did, what's it called, misdiagnose the death certificate or other sort of stuff. But it seems like you got put in those scenarios. It's not like you lied about your certifications and then got put in places you didn't know how to handle.

It seems like you just got put in those places by higher-ups. And that's their fault. You just got put in those. You could have said maybe, hey, guys, I don't know how to do this. Maybe you did. I don't know. And same with the death certificate. You even told them, hey, guys, I have suspicions about,

this. Maybe we should change this and they're like, eh, who cares? So I think that's a lot of your higher-ups issues. And maybe it's just the place you live. They don't care that much about the details. But interesting. I hope you're doing all right. And I'm sure you can learn a lot of lessons from the past

experiences you've had. And hopefully you can move on and improve. I believe in you. Thank you so much for sharing. And thank you. And that wraps up some horrifying, anonymous confessions. I really appreciate everyone who's share

these. I hope my feedback was somewhat productive and helped you out. Like I've said previously in other videos, I'm not a licensed therapist or anything. I'm just a regular guy making videos. But hopefully, just some regular insight can help you. And it seems like just getting

a lot of this off your chest helps you guys. So, just a place to let it off, let stuff air out, so to say. And if you'd like to see your confession in a future video, please send it the email in the description. I read through them all. and even if they don't all get into a video I still read them all and will probably respond

so please sending them in if you have anything to get off your chest I appreciate you guys watching at the end of the video please like and subscribe it helps out a ton you guys are the best thank you so much for watching and uh this is snook and I'll see you next time bye