Snook - Horrifying Confession Threads

Episode Date: February 13, 2026

From a disturbing story of how a user was involved in a murder plot, to the terrifying tale of how OP ruined their girlfriend's family... these are some Horrifying Confession Threads. These stories are truly some of the most horrifying and sad stories I've ever read, I hope every OP and emailer in this video is doing better now. Would you like to see me make similar videos in the future? Leave your thoughts down below in the comment section, and make sure to like and subscribe!Send a confession to be read! [e-mail] the Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/SnookYTFollow me on instagram and Spotify!If your story or post was included in today's video and you wish for it to be taken down, please reach out to this email. [e-mail] And yes, I'm a human voice.NEXT SUB GOAL - 100,000 followers! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to the channel, and today we're getting into some horrifying confession threads. And this is a series where I read viewers submitted confessions and also confessions from Reddit. And to be honest, they are all just insane, horrifying, and downright disturbing. And if you'd like to have your confession in a future video, please send to the email on screen now. Thank you. And I just think you'll want to stick around because today's confessions are just beyond wild. and shocking. And please like the video and subscribe to the channel.

It helps more than you know. And this video will be long enough already. So without further ado, let's get into some horrifying confession threads. I was once involved with a group of people that murdered an old man. I originally posted this in R slash true crime, but some suggested that I repost here. For my own safety, I'll be keeping some of the details of this story. a little vague, but it's mostly the truth, with a few guesses where my memory fails me, as this was about 20 or so years ago.

Some background. I was homeless on and off between 13 to 16 years old, right around the tail end of the 90s. It had little to no contact with my family. I was a moderately frequent drug user, but at the time of this story, I was mostly into weed and mushrooms. With this story containing my first experience with Crystal and Tweakers, in short, I was a typical 90s teenage dirtbag with little to no moral compass. I've lived most of my life in major metropolitan areas.

However, my wanderings at this time had led me to a somewhat rural town about two hours south of Canada, somewhere around the Pacific Northwest. Through adventures in drug use, I had made a few new friends. Let's call them Jeremy, my closest friend in this group, Karen, my girlfriend, and Tony, a fellow teenage dirtbag. We spent our days figuring out ways to get our hands on some weed, for the most part, which included everything from panhandling to burglary. A couple of times, a week we'd go out and see Jeremy's girlfriend, who was under house arrest. While out there, we'd often roam the neighborhoods looking for unlocked cars to rob. shop lived from the local shops and get drunk on cheap, disgusting wine.

Looking at you, Carlo Rosie. One day, after an afternoon of minor crimes and drugs, we met up with someone I hadn't yet encountered, but who was known to my local group. Let's call him Garrett. Garrett was the only one of us over 18, which at the time provided a certain amount of cool factor and helped us spend our ill-gotten funds on a small,

amount of crystal. We were all crashing at Karen's house while her parents were out of town, and we all got high. This being my first time. After we were all lit, the bag was empty, and Garrett started talking about scoring some more. However, we were all broke. Garrett had a brilliant plan for getting a large chunk of money.

Quickly. It seems Garrett had a childhood friend whose grandfather lived in the area and kept a lot of cash on hand as he didn't trust banks. Garrett's plan was to put on a mask, grab some knives, and scare the old man into giving us his money. The others were very interested as they wanted to get high. However, I was fairly adamantly against it. I won't pretend I had some sort of a moral objection, but strong armed robbery was a bit above everything I'd gotten involved with. And quite frankly, I was scared.

Additionally, we had encased the place at all, so we had no information about as neighbors. when people left slash returned home, if and when people were likely to visit, etc. Furthermore, the entire plan was concocted in about 15 minutes, so it wasn't exactly an Ocean's 11 setup. Jeremy was going to be the driver, and Garrett and Tony would go in and do the actual robbery. Karen and I were supposed to be the lookouts. However, for all of the above reasons, I refuse to have anything to do with it, and told Karen, she shouldn't either, which surprised. Surprisingly, she listened to. I tried to talk to them into waiting until we could get more info about the guy and the neighbors.

But Garrett was dead set on doing it ASAP. I've since inferred he was a serious addict and needed something right now, which explains why he was so gung-ho about the whole thing. My concerns were brushed aside and they started getting ready. Two T-shirts with sloppily cut eye holes would be the masks and two butcher knives from the block in Karen's kitchen would be the weapons. Jeremy would wait outside with the engine running. They'd go in and scare the guy, get the money, and run back out.

A plastic grocery bag was used to collect the cash. So, ridiculously, equipped, Jeremy, Tony, and Garrett headed out the door and Karen and I settled down to wait. This was just about sundown, and we expected the whole thing for good or ill would be over fairly quickly. And Karen assured me we'd be doing drugs in no time. We fooled around for a little bit since we were alone, but being thwacked the moon, I was more interested in talking than having intimacy. And in retrospect, can tell that I was annoying the absolute shit out of her with my verbal diarrhea. Fifteen minutes turned into 30, and then an hour with no sign of the guys.

The sun went completely down and it was full night. By this point, we were super agitated and kept checking the blinds in classic tweaker form. Anytime we heard anything at all, we turned on some music and were laying on the couch when the door flew open. There in the doorway stood Jeremy, eyes wide and frantic, who burst out, he killed him! He fucking killed him! Behind him walked Tony. In a daze and behind him was Garrett covered in blood. I don't think I'll quite ever forget the look on Garrett's face. Haunted doesn't do it justice.

It was the expression of someone who knows he is damned. He walked slowly into the house and went directly into the bathroom and closed the door. We heard the faucet running as he watched the blood off of his hands and face, and we all stood silent, staring at each other. After I recovered from my initial shock, I asked what the actual fuck had happened. Evidently, things had unfolded pretty much as intended for the first half of the capper. The old man was appropriately terrified and handed over the money after being roughed up a little. Once the bag was filled and they were almost out of the door,

the poor bastard said, It's you, Garrett, isn't it? Evidently, recognizing Garrett's voice as one of his grandson's friends. Well, Garrett panicked and turned around and stabbed him directly in the chest 19 times. After the first 14, his knife hand bent, so he took Tony's knife and stabbed him five more times with his hand over the old man's mouth to try to stop his screaming. Finally, he slowed, stood up and grabbed the bag of money. They both fled for the door.

Unfortunately, one of the old man's neighbors had evidently come home right around this time. I was never able to get the straight of exactly when he arrived and saw two masked men running out of the house. He shouted at them to stop, then proceeded to jump back into his car and follow them. Jeremy drove like a maniac to lose them and then drove at random while they tried to figure out what the hell to do next. They finally decided to drive back to where we were and ditch the car several blocks away, trusting to the cover of night to hide deep blood all over Garrett. As they told the story, Garrett finished washing himself off and opened the bag of money. If I recall correctly, it was something around five or six grand.

They started to split up the money, even offering me some, which I declined. Horrified that things had turned out this way, if I was able to, I would have run screaming from the place. However, now I was party to a murder, and I didn't think they'd be too excited about someone who knew the details running off to who knows where. I refused the offered cash

and tried to calm my thwacked out mine down, envisioning cops busing through the door at any moment. The largest amount of money they put into a hollowed out deodorant container, which then they buried in the backyard, each kept several hundred dollars and jeremy agreed to take tony and garrett where they wanted to go and would score some crystal to come back and take with karen and i The three left and Karen and I settled back into waiting anxiously.

Eventually, Jeremy returned with a big sack of crystal, which he proceeded to get blasted on, and spent the entire night playing cards and checking the windows. It was, without question, the scariest fucking night I'd ever had up to that point. We discussed whether or not the neighbor got the license plate number. If the cops would find the car, once again abandoned several blocks away, and even if Garrett would think about killing all of us to cover his tracks. In the morning, we decided to split up. In reality, they were super annoyed by the edgy, thwacked version of me,

and I just wanted to get the fuck away from them. I went to the flop house I was staying at a bizarre little, cult-like family set up that probably deserves its own story, and crashed out for a day. When I woke up, I headed to my local panhandling spot to get the money for some potato wedges, 12 for a dollar. What a deal. And while I was there, checked a newspaper to see if there was anything there. Sure enough, the murder was front page material. Given the semi-rural nature of

the town, chilled to the core, I walked dazily around town until late that night before returning to my flop house. The patriarch of my little household was a worldly, mostly well-meaning gentlemen we'll call Clive. Clive knew me pretty well by this point and was a charismatic individual. He pulled me aside and asked, what was wrong, late that night, informed me that the cops had come by that day asking about me, and asked if there was anything I'd like to tell him. I spilled everything. Clive listened in silence as I told him what had happened, and at the end of it shared something with me that none of us had known. As a younger man, he'd spent seven years in prison for armed robbery.

He knew what it was like to be in serious capital T trouble and asked only one thing of me. Don't commit S word in his house, as there were young kids living there. Again, it was a really, really strange place. I assured him I wouldn't, and we drank coffee and played cards until the sun came up. At about nine in the morning, the cops showed up again. And this time, I went with them. As it happened, I wasn't the last person to be rounded up. Garrett was still at large.

Being a good criminal, I clamped up and said nothing. Besides asking them what I was being questioned about, they informed me that I was wanted for question in regards to a murder. And I spent the car ride and waiting room time struggling to control my sphincter. When I was escorted into the interview area, which was just a regular office, not a scary movie interview room, I was asked if there was anything I wanted to tell them. I, of course, said I had no idea why I was there, but I was shaking and sweating, and I knew they could see it. They decided to offer some information. An old man had been murdered, and they had multiple people in custody, all of whom seemed to think that the plan was my idea.

I was so stunned by this. I made what was probably a rather comical what face and started shaking a bit more. The interviewer outlined the basic facts that they knew, which were all pretty much on the money, except for the fact that I had been pointed out as the mastermind of the operation. They even provided me with a statement from Karen,

which indicated the whole plan had been mine, and that they hadn't wanted to do it, but I had threatened them into compliance, which was pretty ludicrous, as I was the youngest person in the group in a scrawny little white boy. He left me with the statement in a cup of coffee while he went to the bathroom.

By this point, I was freaking right the fuck out. What the actual fuck? Why had my so-called friends all pointed the finger at me? I slowly began to realize that they had all known each other for much longer than I, known any of them and that much of our interactions had involved me bringing weed or cash a share was i a sucker was this me being used a chump and being left out to dry when the interviewer came back in he sat down in his desk looked at me and just said tell me i paused then shakily asked for a

soda and a cigarette, and was provided both, which was a bit interesting as I was only 15. I told them that I wasn't prepared to make a statement, but could offer a hypothetical explanation of events, which he said would be acceptable for now. I huddled by the window, and, as much as it pains me to admit it, rolled over like a good boy. I told them everything relating to the event itself, the participants, the plan, where it's it went wrong, and what happened? The interviewer sat in silence

and let me ramble it all out while I blew my smoke out the window. He asked why I didn't try harder to stop them or go to the police after the event. And I told him I was, quite simply, afraid of people that had killed a guy.

Fortunately for me, they seemed to think my story lined up with what they knew so far, and decided that they didn't have enough evidence to charge me at the time. I was told, not to leave town, and that it would be wise for me to retain legal advice. I returned home and spent the night smoking a bunch of weed, then went to sleep, trying not to think about it. That night, Garrett was tracked down and arrested at gunpoint, brought back to the station, and interrogated.

He copped the murder and told them everything that had happened. Much to my everlasting surprise, he backed my claim that I had been against the entire plan from the beginning, refused to take any money, and generally seemed to want nothing to do with this situation. From what I understand, he referred to me as just a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The next day I was called back in, sat down, and told about Garrett's confession. This person, who I'd only met that day, confirmed everything that I had told them and went out of his way to explain that I was not a willing participant.

I've always gotten the sense that he was truly remorseful for what he had done and didn't want to see anyone else suffer for it. They told me I was free to go for the moment, but that they might have additional questions for me in the future. Later that day, I saw a story in the local paper indicating that the culprit had been apprehended and naming him. The article also mentioned that three months, were in custody, and an unnamed mail miner was questioned regarding the incident.

Me. A couple of weeks later, I caught a greyhound out of town, leaving the state and returning to my hometown in another state. I later learned that the police did come back around looking for me, but I was long gone. I was still off the grid for another year or two, and I've never been contacted about the incident since then. I've also never returned to that state. I hope you guys enjoyed my rambling story.

It's mostly true as far as I can remember it, other than places where I had to fill in a couple of gaps in my memory and a couple of times that were nudged to blur the trail a bit, in case anyone feels like being a super sleuth and trying to identify when and where this happened. I later became a productive member of society and am a husband and father with a great career that I've worked hard for. I've always wanted to share the story outside my closest circle of friends

and I feel a little better after doing so. I have quite a few wild stories from my youth as a vagabond, and perhaps I'll post some of those later, if anyone finds these interesting. Thanks for reading. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, what happened to that bloke Garrett? And the O.P replied saying,

25 to life. The others variously did time in juvenile facilities or mental hospitals. And then someone replied saying, He's still in? And then someone else replies saying this was 20 years ago, so I would say yes. And then the OPE responded saying, well, he could have been paroled by now. I haven't gone out of my way to follow up, as I generally would prefer to avoid any further interaction with that whole fucked up situation. And then someone else has another comment that says that's a pretty shit situation to be in,

being framed for a murder by people you thought you were your friends as a teen. I can't imagine how that would have been. Good on you for turning your life around. And then someone responds saying, that was quite possibly just a police tactic to get him to talk. Most suspects don't talk if they think that everyone else involved isn't talking, like looking out for each other. But if the suspect believes everyone is blaming it on him,

then he is likely to break that loyalty and make a statement. And the O.P. respond saying, this is certainly a possibility. The confession that was provided to me had enough details that made me think it was authentic. However, I suppose I could have been tricked. And then the commenter response to the O.P. Saying, not sure if the police are allowed to lie to the extent of faking a confession. Although for a case as serious as murder, perhaps they would.

Especially if they knew you were involved for sure. Also, interrogation techniques have improved a lot in recent years. Police used to run riots, sane, and doing whatever. whatever they wanted to obtain a confession. And then someone replies saying, Don't be so naive. The police are absolutely allowed to lie to you. That's why you shouldn't talk to them without a lawyer,

especially if you were involved. OP got lucky these cops actually wanted to know the truth. And then another commenter asked a question saying, What happened to your girl? And the OP responded saying, Ah, this is actually a fun bit. I later found out that she told everyone I was delusional. and that we had never been dating,

I guess it wasn't really a match made in heaven. She ended up in a mental institution, which was probably a good place for her to be. I am evidently attracted to unstable women, except Wifi, who is only somewhat quirky. And now on to a viewer confession. Hey, Snook, I hope you're doing well, Pimp. I just wanted to say I appreciate all the hard work

you put into making videos. I listen to every upload at work and try to comment if I have the time. Anyways, this story took place when I was in high school, and I've never really told anyone except a really close friend. That's not to say, nobody knows about it, but I don't really share it. I recently was contacted by the ex in question, which is what reminded me of this and prompted me to write it.

As the title says, I got cheated on and proceeded to destroy her entire family. Now, I want to preface this by saying what happened was never my attention, but I suppose if I thought about my actions for even a brief moment, I could have foreseen a lot of what happened. This story begins when I was a sophomore in high school. I had a bit of a glow-up and started getting my first bit of female tension. I started sneaking out to hang out with a girl and get up to some nefarious activities. Before this, I was a good kid for the most part.

I had good grades. I was playing varsity baseball as a freshman, and I stayed out of trouble. Shortly after meeting this group, I tore my labrum playing baseball and had to get surgery. While I missed the start of baseball season, I started to hang out with this girl even more. We went from sneaking out maybe once every couple weeks to every single night. I'd pay my brother $5 and he would let me take his car out for the night. Well, one night I picked this girl up and she had weed with her.

I had smoked a couple times before. However, my dad was not only a deputy at the time, but he was on the narcotic stage. task force for the county. So despite the fact I live in a very weed-friendly state, I knew I would be screwed if I ever got caught. Even though my parents were divorced, I knew my mom would tell my dad. The risk simply was not worth the reward. Anyways, the regular M.O. was to pick her up, then drive the 15 minutes back to my house out in the sticks. I had a big house and it was a lot easier to chill at my house. So that cool spring night, I wasn't really thinking, with the right head and the temptation one.

We ripped a blank page out of my Bible. We rolled it up and smoked down the woods on my property. Man, I knew I liked weed, but that night was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. You see, I like this girl. But really, she was just the first attractive girl to ever be interested in me like that. And right as I was figuring that out, I also figured out how much I like smoking. And well, this girl was someone I could smoke with. And obviously, I liked the naughty-noddy-noddy time as well.

So every day, I would sneak out, pick her up, smoke, and pretend to watch movies until an hour before my parents woke up. Then I would take her home. Every night. I was tired every day. And my shoulder was not getting any better in terms of playing baseball again. I was four months post-op and still could not throw baseball without extreme pain for days. And without my main reason to keep my grades up, I started slacking in school. Then one day at lunch, there was talk about our spring break starting two weeks early.

If you were inhaling O2 at the time, you know what this was. The lockdown started. I was so depressed for all the reasons everyone else was. Plus, my nightmare of a labrum slapped tear that would not heal properly. I started smoking by myself all day. It was at this time, I also started stealing liquor from my, parents. I stopped logging into my Zooms and spiraled bad. To say the least, I was self-destructing. To make it worse, my brother left her boot camp that summer, meaning I had no more responsible

oversight in that house. My parents had been split since I was a little kid, and I rarely made the 90-minute drive to my dad's house. I was still hanging out with this girl every day. One fall evening, she blocked me from leaving her house. She had this sad look on her face when she asked me, Are you ever going to actually ask me to be your girlfriend? At that moment, I realized again how much I didn't really like this girl. But instead of being mature and smart, I folded like a lawn chair. I asked her to be my girlfriend. She was hot.

I was whipped. I liked having someone to smoke with 24-7. But all it was doing was feeding into my depression, which I would then suppress with Degongia and liquor. See the spiral? and it certainly did not help that I liked it so much. Any sort of messed up I could be, I would get and I loved it, which is why when my now girlfriend pulled out two tabs of acid one night,

while we were watching the sunset at a parking garage, it didn't take much convincing. That was the beginning of my psychedelic addiction. It started with once every month or so. Then every two weeks as soon as my tolerance was gone. Then every week. doubling the dose each time. What I did not know at the time was that I am genetically prone to bipolar disorder,

depression, and some other mental disorders. Within 14 months, I'd gone from a straight A varsity baseball player to a bipolar drug-addicted dropout. My mom noticed. It would have been impossible not to. I started going to therapy and to get mental healthy vows, got diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression, then started the medications. That was the worst five months of my life.

The side effects were worse than the problems themselves. It's just guesswork. Torturous guesswork. My mental health took major tolls on my relationship. I noticed things. One night she called me and asked if a guy could come over to smoke. I knew she would cheat. I knew she had already had with him.

But I was weak. I'd let it happen. starting arguments have no proof and just feel like shit. I doubled down on all of it. The drinking, smoking, psychedelics, and intimacy. It was such a toxic situation, and I was so blind to it all. I was 16 working 4 p.m. to 1 a.m. as dishwasher, selling drugs in the day to pay for my own increasingly more expensive addictions.

To put it into perspective for all these smokers out there, I was smoking 4 to 6, um, geez. I can't say the actual, word or the dosing because of guideline reasons, but you get it. This continued until it all came to a head on my 17th birthday. We dropped my sister off at a friend's house and started to have an argument. That's when she told me she cheated on me with three different guys. And I'm unsure if the emailer who sent this email meant sister or girlfriend.

I dropped my sister off at a friend's house and she admitted she cheated on me. I assume it's girlfriend, but let's continue. He says she used it as a weapon to belittle me, trash me as a person, and hurt me so deep. I went numb. Yeah, I think this is a girlfriend. I drove to his Taco Bell with tears rolling down my face and parked. I told her to go inside and get some food and cool off.

As soon as she got out, I left her there. I went to my trusty Diamond Shamrock that didn't ID and got a case of beer. I woke up in my car on the side of a random county road in the sticks. I drove home and started plotting. I wanted to hurt her how she hurt me. Worse. I always will take it one step further. I decided I would send her dad a text, telling him every secret I knew about her.

I was always really close with her dad, and he really liked me. I also knew he would rain hellfire down on her if he knew even a tiny bit of the shit she got up to. So I started my message by telling him his daughter cheated. I told him exactly where to look on her phone for incriminating messages of drug use, stealing his truck, etc. I then told him where to find her weed stash. I told him about how his wife just gave her another phone when he took hers. I told him about how his wife would let us smoke while she was there. I told him about how they all talk shit about him.

I told him everything. I sent the message in the next morning. He replied with a thumbs up. That's the most bad thing to do. I didn't think about it again. I knew if anything happened. I wouldn't find out until much later through mutual friends. friends because I didn't go to school anymore at that point. Well, I wouldn't be writing this

unless something happened. About three months later, one of my ex's friends added me on Snapchat. She just wanted to bump uglies, if you're smelling what I'm stepping in. Well, that night, she ended up telling me what happened in that household. Her dad got my message and went nuclear. Found out everything I said was true, and to say the least, He was pissed. He found her stash, the second phone, the messages, the pictures, all of it. He had a conversation with his wife that ended with him wanting divorce. He smashed all their phones and left.

Transferred all their money to an account only he has access to and ghosted them. He moved out of state that same week with no money. They had to figure out how to survive. Her older sister moved in with her boyfriend. My ex moved in. with a friend, and the mom did the same. Her dad owned a very successful business, and the mom didn't work or anything. Their home was only in her dad's name. He put it on the market within two weeks, and it sold two weeks after that. Their older brother, who had been out of the house,

sided with the dad, and that started another problem. When my ex wouldn't completely cut her brother off, her mom cut her off. Within a month, she was disowned by both her parents. Holy shit that escalated quick. Let's continue. That night, me and her friend ended up doing the deed, and in my post-nut clarity, I began to reflect on the situation. Had I really caused him to get a divorce?

Was it my place to tell him any of that information? It started to eat away at me. But in my drug-saturated brain, it didn't take me long to forget about it and move on without a care. About a year later, I saw a mutual friend at a local festival. I went to say what's up to her,

and she just looked disgusted with me. I asked her why she was being so, for a lack of better words, bitchy. Then she blew up on me, saying, really, you piece of shit? I'm bitchy. You got ex's names mom killed. Whoa.

I interrupted her. What the fuck are you talking about? I got her mom killed? Are you brain dead? After a brief back and forth, she agreed to tell me what happened with her mom. Apparently, her mom started drinking. A lot.

About a month later, I got my last update on my ex. Her sister went to stop by her mom's apartment. She opened the door and found her mom motionless on the couch. Her sister was a nursing major and immediately knew her mom was dead. She had drank herself to death. I could not believe what she told me. When I got home, I found her. her obituary online. There I was, at my desk, looking at the obituary for a woman who I saw

every day for months, a woman who had fed me countless times, who allowed me to stay in her home and date her daughter. Dead at 46. Because of me. Was it because of me? Back and forth. I'd rationalize both sides of my mind. I mean, she chose to go behind his back. She chose to let teenagers smoke weed at her house, but I chose to blow the whistle. Who knows what would have happened if I didn't? But now we all know what happened after I did.

And it was fucking with my head. So did the only thing I had learned to do in distress, lean harder into my substance abuse and self-destruction, my addiction spiraled again and my mental health reached in all time low. I deleted all socials, all contacts, packed my clothes, and just left. I spent the next three years traveling across the U.S. battling a severe substance dependency. I'm now 22, living close to family again, and have overcame my dependency.

My mental health is in a much better state now. And I stay far away from hard alcohol and hard drugs. I still smoke after work, maybe a beer or two, but nowhere near how I used to. As I mentioned at the beginning of the story, I was only reminded of this because my ex recently got into contact with me. I did not respond. I don't know what else to say. How to go about a conversation with someone whose life I ruined. I see the text notification every day and I just look at it.

at it and my heart sinks. I don't want to respond, but maybe I owe it to her? I don't know. She also seems to be doing well from what I see online, so I don't want to damage any healing either of us had had from that awful situation. I know I'm exponentially more mature now than I was back then, but I just don't want to open that door again. To end, I want to clear a few things up. I do not want to come across as portraying myself as a victim. I'm well aware that I made a stupid decision when I was younger that ruined the lives of many people. I'm not proud of it by any standard. I'm not saying my ex or anyone else but me is responsible for where my life ended up. We are both immature with little to no positive guidance. I think we all made our mistakes that led up to

this. Every mistake in piss poor decision was essential to where this all ended up. To dwell on bad choices too much is not good. To dwell on it, analyze, learn, grow, and move on, that is where healing is found. If anyone reading slash listening to this and is being slash has been cheated on, walk away with your head up. It hurts. It's not easy, but it's the mature thing to do. They have chosen someone else go don't try to get back at them don't try to fix things drugs are bad period if you haven't done them don't worst case you'll like it and forever will struggle with the knowledge that a little puff or sniff can make any situation that much more fun and enjoyable if you are currently struggling with substance abuse recognize your problem first then recognize how powerless you have

become against it for so long. Reach out for help. Hotlines, friends, friends, family, churches, wherever you can find it, get it. Your brain is your own enemy right now. Make a resolve like no other that you want sobriety over anything else. That goes for anyone. From a fent addict to a kid in high school addicted to overpriced carts, the punishment, heartaches and trials you go through now will save you and everyone around you from years and years of suffering. To all my people battling mental demons, I love you. It can and will get better. Not just for a time.

There is hope. Reach out for help. I promise you there is someone. Somewhere who cares enough for you to give you the assistance you need. But they cannot make these steps for you. Be strong. You're only given as much suffering as you can take. know that there is purpose in your pain,

but have peace in the knowledge that you may never, ever fully know the reason you are enduring these sufferings you are. Thanks for reading my confession. Think what you want, but I love you all. Stay safe and keep on snooking it. Hello, Snook. I've recently came across your page

in my hunt for answers to my dilemma. I'm not sure where to start with this, but here it goes. I'm currently 29, turning 30 in June and from the UK. My life just now is going well. I own a house, which many would not be able to obtain at this age, alongside a good-looking partner. In M-5, I own outright, rare here,

and a high-position job at a British weapons manufacturer-slash-defense contractor. I am in no way ostentatious, but I know that I am very much better off compared to my peers. I believe the reason for this is that I am a diagnosed psychopath. I currently take antipsychotics to relieve the urges of my youth, which I lie to my spouse about being epilepsy medication to cover up when she picks up prescriptions for me. I've done things that people would consider horrific to people because of these urges. So much so, I was convicted of grievous bodily harm, or GBH and S.A. at the age of 10.

I want to clarify that it wasn't for a desire but for power over the person. I also got away with many things due to them being difficult to prove or that I knew to cover my tracks, so to speak. I was deemed unfit for trial by a psychiatrist and was sent to a mental institution, where I spent nine months before being released with a lifetime requirement for medication. After release, I understood that although this is how I feel, I need to act like a chameleon and create a life for myself. One in which I could probably get away with things in the future.

Thankfully, we moved town just in time for the start of secondary school, so it was a lot easier to confine previous me to the history books. I've always been one of the smartest or the smartest in the room wherever I go. I got the best grades out of my many classes and got a one-one master's degree in business development from one of the most prestigious universities in Scotland. Again, this is not a brag, and I don't usually discuss this type of thing.

I'm just being blunt with facts as I feel I have to. I've kept the same friends since high school who do not know anything about my previous behavior or my current fantasies. I keep them around so I can control them and they look up to the persona I fabricated. I must say I've never loved someone in the way others talk about it.

I keep people as extensions of myself or as someone I can depend on. The only person I have an affection to is my mom, and I believe that is through a slight uneasy feeling I have caused she's the remaining person who remembers the real me who's still around me. I met my current girlfriend eight years ago through university. She is visually stunning, and I found to be easily manipulated into doing what I want, and her opinions could be molded. I feel having a good-looking woman around my waist made me look good to others.

However, I found that the better-looking they are, the harder they are to manipulate, so she is perfect for me. Recently, she started working with one of the boys that was in my primary school class, who I know has told her about the things I've done. Her demeanor continues to worsen towards me as the months go by, and I can now genuinely feel her fear. I thought of what I could do with him, but it would be too suspicious at this point. If the full extent of the things I did came to light to my girlfriend, my friends, my work, my professional network will end. Everything I have built will crumble to nothing. I know my friends and family won't be able to look at me.

I have the second high security clearance level available, and I can see that revoked if my childhood record was exposed. I will lose everything I've earned. My house, car, the lot if it can be proven. I think the part that really angers me is that I slipped up either through complacency or arrogance I feel I have let him get the better of me by allowing him to say what I've done

with no rebuttal or repercussions until now. So to conclude, I'm asking what you think is the best approach. I know she will ask soon and my primary tactic I believe is damage control. If I admit to the bullying, I can deny the more severe actions and chalk it up to him.

wanting revenge or jealousy. Worst case, I may lose her and the house, but I will keep my minions in my job. I said we would never marry, so she can only be entitled to half the house and not my car, pension, or private possessions at least. Regards. Scott. And all right, Scott, there is a lot to unpack here.

Yeah, a lot to unpack here. I just think it's very odd the way you refer to many things, such as your girlfriend as more of an object than a person or your girlfriend. You say, worst case, I may lose her in the house, but I will keep my minions. Minions, I can only assume to be kind of your coworkers or the people that you kind of manage. I think that's another very odd thing to say. I just think you mentioned things in such an odd way, in such a self-centered way and narcissistic way, in all honesty.

I mean, you're just, it's all me, me, me, this is going to happen to me. I did this, but I'm trying to figure out damage control. If I were you or my advice to you, I don't think you should continue lying to everybody. I mean, you're already seeing it. It's going to slip through the cracks eventually. I think you should just actually be honest. I think you should be honest with your girlfriend and say, this is what I did when I was younger. I'm sorry, and that's who I am.

and stop lying to her. Stop lying to your girlfriend, stop lying to your job, and stop lying to everybody in your life. It will only continue to get worse if you keep lying in building your entire life on a lie. I've read more than enough stories

on people who have built their entire lives and they've gone away with it for decades, but they've built their entire life for decades on lies. And guess what? It all comes crumbling down eventually. And that is the truth. If you're not honest,

and straightforward, then it's going to bite you in the ass all the time. And I mean, you're just so worried about yourself all the time. And you're kind of like in the beginning, you even said it wasn't a brag, but that's a very odd thing to mention. You're like, I'm the smartest person in the room. I'm always the smartest. I know this thing. I know how to manipulate my girlfriend. I know how to do this and do that. I just find it very, very weird and honestly, just super self-centered and narcissistic. You did admit to being on antipsychotics, which I think is good. good. Although I think if you are up to it, I mean, kind of knowing this personality type, you probably won't be up to it, but getting therapy and getting help. Because I think you

need to kind of break down all these barriers you've built around yourself. I mean, you've built up so many mental barriers like you can't trust anybody. You don't love your girlfriend. You don't like this or that. I think you seem to really like your house and car because you're so worried about losing the material possessions. We don't care about the true connection. We don't care about the, the with your people around you or your co-workers and you mentioned them as minions. And yeah, I mean, to be honest, you asked me what your best approach is. And I think your best approach is being honest. Don't try to damage control.

And you even said, I can deny the more severe actions and chalk it up to him wanting revenge or jealousy. So you're just building it up even more. Like, then you're just going to cause more issues and more, like, you have a record on yourself because you went to juvenile detention and you got in trouble. He's going to be able to get that eventually or somebody will. And see, like, you're just, like, this just won't work out if you keep lying and keep building your life upon lies upon lies. Tell your girlfriend the truth. Say you fucked up when you're younger. I mean, that was years and years and years ago. That's not

you now. And you can move on to become a better person. But if you keep kind of going back to the same tactics of lying and deception and manipulation, then you're never going to become a better person and then get out of that kind of that vicious cycle of people finding out the lies you've told them, if that makes sense. And so I think your best approach is to be completely honest with your girlfriend, because she's going to find out eventually. And I mean, the genie is out of the bottle, so to speak. She knows that you did something when you're younger,

and now she is going to do as much research as she possibly can about it. She's going to ask family. She's going to ask friends. She might ask your mom. She might ask, you know, a friend of the friend who's, quote, quote, snitching on you. And so the genie is out of the model, and I think it is best case scenario to be completely honest and maybe take this as a learning lesson and kind of a pivotal point to be honest

here on out and try to view people as people and not minions or your kind of property almost. I mean, you said, oh, my girlfriend is perfect because she's at my waist all the time. And she follows me around and she's a pretty face. I really think you need to work on a lot of facets of your life because, yeah, this confession just was all over the place and filled with things that need to be talked about. But to keep this short, as short as it can, yeah, just try to be honest and try to be a better person because what you're doing now will not work out. My whole family thinks I've been sober for the past year.

I'm 19 female. And about a year ago, I spiraled into a really horrible state of addiction. It started with drinking. I moved out for the first time and had a lot of free time. I started drinking more because I was bored. The house started to creep me out, keeping me up at night, so I started drinking to fall asleep. It spiraled over the course of two months-ish to me drinking all hours of the day, taking shots in the bathroom at work as soon as I woke up, as soon as he did,

anything really. I felt more drunk when I stopped drinking and it got really bad, really fast. I realized I couldn't not drink and at one point when I ran out of alcohol, I started to hallucinate. So instead of addressing the problem, I just kept on drinking. My roommate stopped coming home because she said she was, quote, tired of watching me do that to myself. I didn't realize it at the time, but I legitimately looked like I was dying and I was dying. I don't remember. I don't. remember anything leading up to it, but I fell into a drug binge. I stayed up doing buggers sugar with friends for days on end. And when I ran out, I'd pop a pill to help me sleep it off. I slept for two days at one point, according to my roommate. One night, after falling

to sleep after a booger sugar binge, no pills involved, I had two back-to-back seizures. Thank God my friend happened to be in the room. It was a terrifying experience, the most terrifying and traumatic experience of my life. And I have such horrible PTSD from it, but I never talk about it to anyone. After I got back from the hospital, I ruled out Bougar Sugar. I don't remember how the next part started.

I just remember waking up and a week had gone by and I've been doing pills and other pills for the entire time. I don't remember a thing and it's terrifying. I know that the guy who was giving them to me had laced me with Fent, which led to me Odin

and back in the hospital, and I've been told that he also R-worded me. I could go into a lot more detail, but I ended up in rehab for a while, followed by intensive outpatient treatment. I'm 19 now, and everyone thinks I've been sober since. I mean, to be fair, I really have got my shit together. I started my first year of college straight out of rehab and finished with good grades. I've made good friends, found a healthy relationship, moved into a new apartment, started teaching art classes and have genuinely been relatively happy.

But I'm not sober. I was actually only sober for three weeks. All I can say is that I feel I have control now, but I'm sure I said the same thing then. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, I work in a treatment center. You're very young. It's rare for a very young person to get sober and clean.

What's not rare is for their addiction to spiral. things get worse and worse over time you lose jobs relationships homes and school you have to learn to give up more and more for your addiction to get by until you've had enough and then once things are too painful to continue you have to learn how to quit if you don't you end up dead or in jail or on the street but it's never good you don't have to go through that you might not be an addict yet but you're definitely on the way. If you continue, things will get worse. You will hurt the people you love the most,

and you will hurt yourself. Stop now. Give yourself a better future. And then someone replies to that saying, you're absolutely right, but she is absolutely an addict. There's no getting around that. I'm a functional addict.

I could hold every job I had. Only used drugs where I still had control of everything I did. I hated not being in control, but thought I could handle it. it. I couldn't. Unfortunately, she still has a hit rock bottom and will and hopefully learn that she can't control it. And then someone had one haunting comment saying, please seek help. You sound like my best friend. She OD'd in February. In 1999, I killed a man and his wife with a baseball bat for abusing me as a child in the early 90s. I got 20 years in a mental institution.

I was born in 1983. We moved into this neighborhood in 1989. There was this guy who had a family, a wife and two children. That seemed pretty nice. However, we never really got to do anything with them. However, he would offer me soda and other drinks if I would go into his shed and look at her cars. The first time he essayed me was in 1993. I was 10.

He showed me his cars, then pushed me down, and then, uh, did some stuff to me. At first, I didn't know what was happening and didn't think much of it until I realized he was already me. He then hit me and said if I told his wife or anybody about it, he would kill me.

He even pulled a gun in my face once. It was disgusting. I couldn't sleep at night. I was scared to tell anyone. I didn't want to be known as a person who was abused by neighbor. And it went on for almost two years. When I was turning 15, 1998, the full realization of what had happened hit me.

I was R-worded as a child. I became depressed and started planning revenge. I had played baseball before, so we had some bats in the shed. I applauded to get revenge on him for ruining my life in relationships. It was January 25, 1999. It was after 5 p.m. and I grabbed a camcorder and went out to the shed and grabbed a baseball bat. I told my mom I was going to shovel his driveway.

There was a snowstorm, but I wasn't. I knocked on his door, and his wife opened. I swung the bat at her, and she collapsed. Then I heard screaming from his kids. I had the camcorder in one hand and the bat in my other hand. I recorded the whole thing. He began to run. he was sitting on the couch watching TV.

I chased him into the bathroom, where I destroyed the door while screaming at him. When I broke it down, he was in the bathtub screaming. As I swung the bat at him for two whole minutes. Every time I hit him, his face got worse. I just swung and never cared. I let him die while I ran into the room. I put my camp corner down as I broke the door

and his kids were near his wife. who was knocked out. I told them to go into their rooms and to leave me alone. They were crying. I swung the bat at his wife a few times until she was dead. Then I called 911 and said

I'd killed them. I killed both of them. They were dead. The prosecutor understood what had happened and it was relieved that he had been beating his wife and even his children sometimes. So they sent me to a mental institution. but they didn't charge me with murder.

They said I had been affected by the abuse and that the killing of him was justified, but the wife was not. I was sent to the institution for 20 years. And now I'm out. I have no intention of committing any more crimes. I tried to miscarry my baby and hurt her permanently. When I was 15, I got myself pregnant unintentionally.

I was a very promiscuous teenager, and I wasn't exactly safe about it. Sometimes I used protection. Sometimes I didn't. I got really worried when I started experiencing the usual symptoms of morning headaches and nausea and skip my period. So I took a pregnancy test, and what I feared was true, I was pregnant. I had no idea how to react to this. For one, I was utterly terrified, and I wanted to get rid of it. in a way it felt parasitic.

The thing inside me with the power to fuck my life up. I have very Christian parents who would have disowned me for having a procedure to get rid of the baby, but I knew they would actually love to raise this kid. However, I hated the idea. I had problems with eating at the time and didn't want to gain the pregnancy weights and I just didn't want a child.

I guess I'm making excuses even now. I started a smoking habit very problem. promptly, since I'd heard in science lessons that one of the effects of smoking can be a miscarriage. I barely ate at all, and if I did, I threw it up, all in the hopes of starving it as if I was trying to get rid of a fever. It didn't work. I gave birth to her far too early, and as a result, she is blind. I gave her away and haven't heard from her since. She's ate by now.

My parents were surprisingly supportive, and I got the help I needed for my eating disorder, and I still go to regular therapy. I just had to get it off my chest. Edit. I've realized now that this confession has come off as unremorseful. It was hard riding it, and as a result, I focused more on what happened than my emotions. I want to make it clear that I really, really regret my actions. It's very hard to live with that I've done.

And when I was 17, I attempted S word because I simply couldn't handle it any longer. What I've done to my child tears me apart every day. I still have nightmares. I still can't sleep at night. I can't tell you how many times I've wished and prayed to go back in time. However, I've focused on improving myself through therapy, and I'm training to be a nurse to help children. I know that doesn't make up for it, but I'm trying hard to be better.

I held on too long, and all it did was hurt my daughter. My daughter had multiple congenital birth defects that led to a lifetime of complications. With medically complex kids, you fix one problem and create two more. She lived 11 years. It was probably nine years too long. She lived most of life in hospitals. literally months at a time. She would sometimes be home a week or two and then end up back in it.

I don't think she ever spent more than two consecutive months out of the hospital in her entire life until she went on palliative care. She was more comfortable in the hospital than anywhere else. How sad is that? She was the warrior kid. That was her whole identity, making cards for nurses and decorating her medical. equipment and being tough with a capital T. That was all she had.

Never went to school, not in any meaningful capacity, never played a sport or an instrument, never had any real friends to speak of, never had the health to take up any real hobbies, just an entire life made up of surgeries, shots, and nurses in fucking medical equipment to decorate. I gave her a pathetic life. There wasn't a single,

intervention I wasn't willing to put her through to buy more time. She was the happiest, most accepting kid I've ever met, but in the last six months she was done. I refuse to listen. She asked me over and over again if she could just stop. I'd push until she shut up and went along with what I wanted. Why did I do that? She wanted to make me happy, but she knew she was done. selfish. She died incredibly agitated and upset. I think she was scared to let go because she knew what it was going to do to me. I wasn't strong enough to let go.

I'm so, so sorry. One of the top comments reads, What you and her both went through is horrific, and I cannot imagine the guilt that must not you. Her pain is gone now, and she suffers no more. Her life was one of the ones. of suffering, and that became your burden as well. There is something here for you to learn, something profound in healing.

I urge you to work on forgiving yourself for the most normal animal instinct in the world, keeping our children alive. You did your best and never gave up hope. She touched lives and the earth was better off for her being here, even if her life wasn't traditional or very long. She loved you and you loved her. That is a miracle and that is enough. Please work on forgiving yourself and continuing to love others.

And the O.P responds to this and says, Thank you. This is what I needed to hear right now. My life was certainly better for having known her. She really was a great kid. Everyone says that, but she really was. I ended my ex-best friend's career, ruining her life. title basically.

This was a few years ago. I used to be friends with this girl in college. We'll call her Jackie. And we're both pursuing our nursing degrees. We got along really well for a majority of the school year except towards the end. I began liking a boy who she knew about and then had intimate time with him anyways.

We both talked about it and she understood how hurt I was and promised never to do something like that again. Fast forward to never. nearing our graduation, like a year later. Another boy I had been seen for a while who came to our place for a pre-party. We all left at the same time. Jackie and I shared an apartment and then went to the party.

Jackie left and so did the boy. I figured they were both going to campus together since we had apartments next to each other, and so I just stayed with the rest of my group. I came back only to hear them having intimate time. I was devastated. He was my boyfriend. and I finally thought I found the one. It was a few short months, yes, but still,

he was so sweet and I thought he cared about me. I knew I needed to get back at her for hurting me, and here is how I did. We both smoke weed, heavily. After graduation, I still was pretending to like her. We both moved back home, which ironically was close to each other, and began working at the same hospital as nurses, different units. Our hospital had a strict drug policy, which forbid any drug use.

I stopped smoking, but she didn't. I would always convince her to, and I'd just have a drink or pretend to take a hit from it. Sometimes I'd even fake roll one and just smoke a cigarette while she smoked weed. After about two months of me stopping weed, and her continuing, I left an anonymous note on my manager's desk saying, Jackie is high now. you need to test her. She would never go to work high, just smoke a day before her shift.

She was never, ever inebriated while working. Well, about one hour later, occupation health came and everyone. Doctors, techs, unit clerk, cleaning staff, etc., was tested on the unit to prevent any discrimination. And if you left, you'd be breaking policy and risk termination. Jackie immediately texted me after freaking out in the break room that she needed to to talk. I ran up and fake to have no idea and was comforting her saying it'd be fine and nothing to worry about. One week later, terminated. She violated the drug policy, which results in immediate termination. She was blacklisted at the hospital and all nearby ones as well. Because of the

state I was in to New York at the time, it was a controlled substance, which made it especially bad. We worked at that hospital for only a few months. Now, she has only been able to work in a local office as a nurse slash receptionist, making about a quarter of what she could have been. No other job will hire her. Maybe one a few states away would, but I'm not sure. Do I regret this? Yes, I was an asshole and fucked up.

Bad. Will I ever tell her? Probably not. But is karma a bit? Certainly. Viewer submitted confession. I tried to kill my stepdad when I was 10. I am a long time lurker of your channel.

I don't really comment or contribute, but I really like your content. But that isn't the point of this confession. The short of it is that I, 20 male, tried to kill my stepdad when I was 10. I'm not going to say he deserved it. Nobody deserves a real attempt on their life, but... but I have carried this on me for a decade. I was living with my mom, little brother, and stepdad. My mother never had a good taste in men,

and at the time, she was on drugs despite her schizophrenia and was likely suffering religious psychosis. My stepdad favored me. He found me precocious, and even my mom said he liked me more than he liked her, which, in hindsight, fucking creepy. I didn't like him very much, though. never liked any of my mom's boyfriends much. It was my stepdad's birthday,

and since he grew up in Guatemala in poverty, he never had it celebrated. We spent all afternoon decorating the house, making his favorite dinner, then waiting for him to get back home from work. When my mom called him, another woman answered, and then put him on the phone. My mother went ballistic,

and they started yelling at each other over the phone in some dialect of Spanish. We waited up for him. He came home very late and very drunk. They started arguing in Spanish, and it wasn't long before I got physical, trapping my brother and I in the corner of the room as they smashed belongings, screamed, and font. I managed to get my brother and I away, put him in our room,

and told him very sternly to put in my earbuds, and no matter what he hears, unless it's me, stay in the room and keep the door locked. I left him there with YouTube and went back out to my earbuds, de-escalate. My attempts to do so didn't work. The fighting got worse and I started to sob and shake and struggle to breathe, which I now know was probably an anxiety attack. I don't really know what happened, but I felt like my body was on autopilot. I walked past the argument, got a cup, went into my room, and grabbed my bottle of NyQuil. I've always suffered from trauma-related insomnia and my mom had made me a dose with the NyQuil to sleep at night. I had learned to drink

diet soda with the NyQuil because it made it taste better. Something about the way the Aspartane reacts with the ingredients in the nightquil, but with this knowledge, I attempted what I've admitted to. I poured like five times the recommended dose into the cup, went into the kitchen, dropped ice into it, and filled up the rest with the diet soda. Then I handed it to him with a dopey, innocent smile. I don't know what I was really thinking. He was already pretty drunk and I remember telling myself that if he was gone, then he wouldn't hit my mom and that they wouldn't argue. I thought if I offed him, my mom, my little brother and I could go to Virginia to be with our family and that we would be happy. After a bit, the fighting stopped and my mom and I were cleaning the

aftermath of the fight while my little brother sat on the couch. The living room was littered with broken glass, smash DVDs, knocked over furniture, etc. My stepdad was in the kitchen, mumbling incoherently at the ceiling. My little brother saw him and asked, Mama, what's wrong with him? She looked at him, looked back at the bits of broken bullshit and said, I really don't know and really don't care. I looked up and saw the cup next to him and asked my little brother,

Hey, can you look up check that cup by him? He got up and looked in the cup, responding, it's almost all empty. And I smiled. He held a cup to his nose and said, Smells like medicine. My mom looked at me with a horrified expression and asked, Oh my God, what the fuck did he do?

I just looked at her and said, what I had to. She checked on him. He was out of it. She took his wallet and drove my brother and night to the gas station to get a slushies and get her cigarettes. He woke up sick as hell the next day, but ended up being fine.

My brother demanded we go to Virginia or he would call her family to do it the hard way. She took us and we never saw him again. That is until now where he found me on socials. He drops likes on my stuff here and there but we've never talked since my mom left him. Now I'm 20. Living in Virginia with my partner.

And nobody knows aside from my brother, my mom and me. I admittedly have a temper like everyone in my family and I come from a violent family but I've grown into a pacifist. Not because of moral high grounds or anything deep, but because whenever I'm angry, I do a lot of damage.

I still think of that time some nights when I can't sleep and it eats at me. I could have succeeded. He could have died and then I'd be some a true crime documentary rather than a high school graduate with a partner in a promising future. I feel like I don't deserve these good things, though.

I know what horrible things I could do and I fear that someday I'll snap wrong and hurt somebody who matters. I'm in therapy now and have been diagnosed with PTSD, GAD, and depression. I haven't told this to my therapies because I don't know what she'd be legally obligated to do. I hope you use this or even just read it. Sincerely, a late night lurker. My mom caught my dad with a 16-year-old and covered it up. Well, 16 years ago, we had two of my friends and their mother living with us while they went through a divorce.

I was 15 and my friends were 14 and 16. I was away at another friend's house one night. When I came back the following day, my mom told me she had kicked them out because the 16-year-old tried to make a move on my dad. She absolutely slandered that poor girl's name. When I got into my 20s, it still sat in the back. my mind. I just knew I didn't get the full truth. So I reached out to the 16-year-old who was also now in our 20s. We met up and I got the true story. I could see the pain in her eyes. She said she'd been in therapy for years because of my father, that he did it in such a loving way.

It really fucked her up. She told me they'd been drinking on the property, then went skinny-dipping. all while my mother was in bed pregnant with my sister. They made their way into the house and upstairs, where eventually my mother walked in on them. I let her know I had her back and if she ever decided to do anything about it. I'm now in my 30s and recently became a mother and it's all I've been able to think about. They still don't know that I know the truth.

It's reawakened the rage in me, especially all of the teenage rage they made me shove down for so long. because if anyone did that to my daughter or if I caught my husband in that situation, hell no. It was easy to shove down before because I learned from the best, my parents. But becoming a mother, especially to a daughter, I've never wanted someone to pay for something they've done so bad. I feel like if I brought it up to my mom, she'd just get angry and talk shit.

She'd probably say the past is the past, and I need to let it go. that people can change, but I know he hasn't changed due to the events over the last few years with his anger and control issues. He's a very big narcissist who believes he can do no wrong whatsoever. And my mother is so far up his ass and makes me wonder if the 16-year-old was his only victim. If she was, and if he's never done it again, would that be okay? Is this forgivable? Because I don't feel like it is. I want to tell the whole family, but I I feel like they'd just downplay it to make me feel crazy. Cut me off and turn my siblings against me.

They've done it before when I called them out on the other thing, so here I am. Just needing to get it out, I guess. What would you do? Someone in the comment says, Your dad is a predator and your mom is in denial. I wouldn't want family in my life that couldn't agree that your father is an abuser amongst other things. I think for your own sake, you should speak.

up and call out shitty behavior. I recently cut off both my sisters because they were so abusive and it was unhealthy for me. Sometimes we can't have family in our lives and that is okay. Someone else says personally, I think that because your father was so brazen as to do this with your mother pregnant and in the house, it suggests he definitely has done this before or would do it again or both. He was supposed to be an adult sheltering vulnerable women slash girls, but he got a minor drunk and abused them. I agree with the comment that says if this person had brushed it off or was on with it,

then things would be different, but you know, that's not the case. I'm not sure what your next step should be regarding informing people, but I sure as shit wouldn't let my daughter be alone with him. Someone else says the fact that he was so brazen to do this with his wife in the house, he's definitely done it before or since. I'm sorry, these were the parents that you were given. I'd never feel safe leaving my kid alone with either of them. And the O.P. responds saying, exactly.

I'm scared he has done it before or since. I feel horrible because I realize I despise my schizophrenic 19-year-old stepson. But there comes a point where you have to stop clinging to the memory and accept the monstrous reality. of what they are now. We've worked so hard to try and ensure my stepson had a good chance at a normal life. Life was bliss until he entered middle school.

When he was skipping school daily to smoke cannabis or dabble in psychedelics, resulting in schizoaffective symptoms at age 13. I was the one that removed them from two schools and finally homeschool him to stop him for making his schizophrenic symptoms worse by toking with his friends off school property every chance they got.

Cannabis normally never hurts, except those who have a strong predisposition for schizophrenia onset. He was stabilizing eventually, and we were able to bring him up to visit his biological mother for that summer. Later that summer, his bio-mom showed two weeks early and dumped him on the front step.

her trying to escape having to talk with us because he was fully delusional and hallucinating. She and her boyfriend had been supplying him with cannabis and pills, despite knowing his clinical diagnosis. For at least nine weeks, he was smoking joints or chewing pills and allowed to refuse his antipsychotic meds. The damage was done and permanent. From there on, it was just an incredible challenge just getting him to take his antipsychotic meds to prevent him from flying into incredibly violent rages due to delusions or confabulations. He became so diminished in cognitive ability and very violent and confrontational, he never finished a grade in high school.

I exhausted so much effort to get him special classes, special ed teachers that were trained for kids with his disorder. Back and forth schedules, so many doctors, and just when a plan would start to play out, he would completely ruin all of our hard work by throwing a desk at his teacher in class, picking daily fights with kids, refusing to write anything,

violently attempting to assault doctors or clinic personnel, attempting to assault me or his father every couple of months, forcing us to have him admitted into a long-term mental health facility. We became that family that had a police car out front hauling her son away every few months. We lived in a very nice neighborhood

and it was incredibly embarrassing and sad to be viewed with sympathy or awkward curiosity by neighbors. When he went to visit his mother again, he put her in the hospital by fracturing her face because she refused to give him a cigarette. This happened six weeks before his 18th birthday, so no actual charges or helpful consequences. Not even a record.

In order to keep him off the street, we first tried housing him in studios or small apartments, which he was probably evicted due, aggressively harassing other tenants for cigarettes or money, regardless of how much money we left him. The same happened with hotels, but that is not the worst of it. It is how he treats his father. He tells his dad that dad must take care of him, and dad has no choice. He tells his father that he has to buy him whatever he wants because of his illusion that whatever property we own is really his. We are there to serve him.

When he does not get what he wants, he starts massively violent fights, which forces his father to retreat and leave. I demanded we stopped providing shelter and food support for a short period due to his behavior. And when our son was tired of being homeless and hungry for a few days, he would beg for help, acting good only until he got what he wanted. The cycle would repeat over and over. Social services? Mental health court? Applying for adult guardianship? SSI applications?

What a fucking sick joke. If you all do not want the monster I'm describing. walking freely on these streets, potentially victimizing to you, stop allowing your state to slash funds, and under-regulates mental health services. Help get housing and supportive services to these people that need it.

Help push legislation that helps family members get protective guardianship that includes rock-solid supportive services and rights for these caretakers. When I reached the breaking point, when his father would provide a cell phone, just to ensure we have some way of communication, came with him and making sure he was okay. He carelessly drops and smashes it right in front of his

dad. He picks it up, laughs, and smashes it as hard as he can on purpose to make sure it was destroyed. And casually remarks, well, it looks like time for you to buy me a new phone. No. I did not allow his father to buy a new phone. I nearly had him answer a call from felony assaultsville. The connecting operator, my fist. Instead of washing his clothes with the soap we have left, he throws away his dirty clothes and demands we buy him new clothes. He will take a few bites of really high quality and expensive food I would prepare and without a second thought, dump his full plate of pristine food right into the trash because he wasn't hungry. I would ask him why he would throw it away and not simply put the plate in his fridge to eat later. Because he has money

or he did not have to explain to me why. He is a man. Okay, Mr. Man, what is in the trash is your food budget for the next rest of the week? What? You're a man. Deal with it. And the horror goes on and on. I have gotten to the point that I actually want my stepson to accomplish pissing off the wrong person and being imprisoned or worse. The burden he has placed on our shoulders would be manageable. If he was not so despicable, regardless of his disease, I will not allow that to excuse or justify his repungent actions. By telling a schizophrenic that their disease makes him an asshole, they will confabulate that reality and make it a fact. By telling him his wasteful behavior, violence, or disregard of the sacrifices of others is not his fault due to schizophrenia. You are

enabling him to become much, much worse. He will latch on to that idea that he is untouchable or blameless for anything he does and will react violently if you attempt to call him on it. The pain etched on my husband's face is hard to permit. I want to spring to his defense and pummel the perpetrator. I understand the immense instinctual obligation my husband must feel because if our daughter was in the same position, I would be doing whatever I could as well. well. As a stepmother, I can inexplicably remove myself emotionally from my adult stepson. A biological father or mother cannot simply flip that switch. I had to give up on her stepson a few years ago.

For myself and my family. It was unbearably painful for me to see all of the work we put into a trying to give him at least a small chance at a normal, mediocre life. and my stepson would gleefully do whatever he could to unravel every plan we made. Staying up and planning out clothes and discussing what he should probably say to the judge to reduce the likelihood of a bad outcome. Morning, fuck you parents, he refused to dress and walked out the door saying that he did not have to go to court because the judge was not God.

And he is only accountable to God. We work tirelessly at helping him apply for SSI benefits. and a halfway home slash assisted living for people with similar mental health issues? Fuck you, parents. I am not going to sign the SSI application because I am going to become a famous fucking rapper. And you guys owe me like 60 grand anyways. I am going to live at my own hotel. He was trespassed from that hotel.

Fuck that halfway house because I'm a man now and I make my own fucking rules. Well, oh shit. Guess who gets arrested for trespassing again. and has a warrant for failure to appear for the first trespass. Guess that judge is God after all. Sorry, collect calls are auto-blocked, and bail was never in our vocabulary. In all seriousness, I wish we could have our sweet boy back.

And he could have a normal life. I wish that he could have a boring job, douchebag or awkward friends, the chance to have loved and lost, drop out of college, even a midlife crisis, but I am not going to break my heart again. Lamenting what is lost. Having to let go.

It hurts a lot less than holding on. All I see now is the disease that is killed and consumed our boy. Now a despicable stranger that serves no purpose for this world but to become a parasite in the community and on the souls of those who desperately cling to the chance of maybe seeing our beloved son one day. Sometimes I search for a glimmer of him, hoping that there's a chance of him recovering.

But all I see now is a doppelganger that is only interested in having his lavish whims obeyed. No traits of empathy, not even an inner turmoil. The disease is deeply cruel. It refuses the very medication needed to bring our boy out of the hole Because it has tricked him into thinking that the meds are the absolute source of his problems Or some conspiracy of all of us trying to poison him I really fear that he will get into that one last fight with that type of person

That refuses to be bullied by his aggressive panhandling But I also secretly want him to get into that one last fight Because I want the monster that has consumed our boy to be struck from this world. At last, allowing the soul of our little boy to finally be free from his prison of madness. He did not deserve this fate. That sweet class clown with that adorable laugh and a head of curls I would ruffle every day, did not deserve this.

I tried to pull you from the void, but I could not save you. I could not save you. Fuck you, schizophrenia. I used to bully a kid in high school. I sent him an intimacy tape of me and his ex-girlfriend. He dropped out of school after that and went on to become a drug addict. I feel absolutely horrible about it, and I can't get over the feeling that I ruined his life.

I was a terrible kid in high school. I was sort of a stereotypical, jock bully kind of guy. I specifically bullied this one kid, Jack, who I just irrationally hated. I thought he was so unbelievably lame at the time. And me and my friends couldn't resist picking on him. Even just thinking about it makes me cringe. He was sort of an emo slash scene kid who'd wear anime shirts, which made him a big target for us.

He dated a girl named Jess, who apparently they broke up on really bad. terms. He would write on MySpace, this was a while ago, that he desperately missed her and wanted her back, and he was so sorry. Jess sort of became friends with our group afterwards, something I'm sure Jack hated. One day we got drunk together, and Jess was ranted about how much she disliked Jack, and that he was such a sad, pathetic person. And eventually, we hooked up, and our friends left. We were both sort of, I don't know how to describe it, in this evil, drunken mood, we decided to send a video of us,

having intimacy, to Jack. The worst part was that, in retrospect, she actually had no real reason to hate Jack. She just hated that he was pathetic and needy. She was a terrible person, too, I suppose. Hanging out with us made her a bully. Jack was never mean or cruel to her. She hated him,

because she thought he was too much of a loser. I mean, what the fuck was wrong with us that we were like this? He responded to the video saying that he wants to speak with Jess, and that was it. I told my friends what happened, and they thought it was hilarious. And soon, it was spread all over the school that I had intimacy with Jess and sent the video to Jack. I remember seeing Jack in the hallway, and I saw his face. and it literally pains me to think about it. But at the time I thought it was awesome.

His face was puffy red, his chin wobbly, his eyes were red. It was clear he was crying before or maybe the sight of me made him want to cry again. We hysterically laughed at him, right to his face, and basically made fun of him by saying that we fucked his girl. I cringe in pain at the memory of that. I literally wish Jack just took out a fucking knife and jabbed us all in the throat. I could not believe we ever thought that was an okay way to fucking treat someone. And 99% of it was just trying to make my friends laugh,

trying to see just how cruel we could be to push things to extremes. I'm not even sure if I can fully understand the mindset I was in. It was a sense of complete superiority and distaste for someone weak like that. Jack would end up switching schools very soon after. Well, first he dropped out of school. Then he went to an alternative school, I think, something like that. Regardless, I found his Facebook page maybe a year or so later. My stomach dropped.

It was filled with statuses about his addiction to pills and his attempts at recovery, lots of stuff about the pain and anguish of his life and how, much he struggles with mental issues. It's been a decade. And I still check his Facebook page a lot. And it's the same thing. He's now an H addict. He goes through bouts of recovery,

then relapse, then recovery. I cannot help but feel fucking guilty. This happened right when he transferred schools. He mentioned it in his status that it happened when he left our school. That was when he got a deal. addicted to pills. He also mentioned he left his school because everyone hit him there. I sent

them a message saying how sorry I was and that I cannot believe I ever acted the way I did and that I apologize to the fullest for how we treated him. He left me on scene, which is understandable. It sucks. It makes me feel terrible about this. I wish I could just I don't know, do something to make up for it. And it makes me feel terrible. I went on to have a great life. I went to a good college and married and have one-year-old kid. I live in a nice area and a relatively nice house.

I sometimes think I'd feel better if it was the kind of trope where the bully has a hard life and the kid getting bullied ends up super successful and the bully ends up a drunken loser. But that isn't what happened. I don't think there's anything in my entire life that I regret as much as what I did to Jack. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, to be honest, you literally ruin someone's life. You should feel like shit. Someone else comments underneath that saying,

the streams of comments saying exactly this are what every bullied person needs to hear. We won't gloss over what the bully has done. An apology won't be enough. and we won't diminish the guilt the bully should feel. Someone else comments saying, Leave him alone. You have done quite enough to him. Realize you have to reach out for your own satisfaction

and not because you think it'll help him. You want absolution. He is not obligated to give you anything. If you must say anything, send him a letter. Tell him you don't want or expect him to respond. Don't sugarcoat what you did. You're honest here about how much of a dickhead you were, so I have every reasonable expectation that you can do that for him.

Focus on being a better person to the people you have met. And consider becoming a mentor for teenage boys. They desperately need role models who know how to own up for their bullshit mistakes and apologize. You can also post publicly on social media about what you did and how much you regret it. You don't have to go into these specific details of effing his ex and sending the video to him, but if you mention it to the people who knew about it then, we'll know about it now. And then someone else says,

fucking hate people like you. Apologies don't mean shit at this point. What's done is done. Someone else says, the only atonement for this would be to become an advocate against bullying. Talk at schools, get involved in community. You won't, though. You're only here for the relief from your guilt.

Here's to hope and your child doesn't run into. someone like you. Someone else says, you do have a hard life, O.P. You have to live with the knowledge that the world is in some regards a worst place for having you in it. And that's going to be hard. Maybe the person you victimized will never forgive you. Maybe you will never be able to fix your mistakes. However, you should reflect on this incident every time you're faced with the opportunity to treat someone with compassion. I let my little lie snowball into a big lie. Now my neighbor is in jail.

My parents were out gambling last month and left me in charge of the house. I was trying to learn how to handle my dad's gun when it went off going through the TV, wall, and toilet. I didn't know what to do, so I made up a fake story of a burglary to get out of trouble. I had to file a police report and everything.

And I did my best to not make the person seemed like someone I know. But in the end, they ended up questioning my neighbor, who I guess did have previous burglary charges from 20 years ago. I had to go to the police station and ask a few more questions. They laid some photos out in front of me and asked me if anyone looked familiar. I immediately said yes to my neighbor. I didn't want to get him in trouble,

but the police seemed so eager to get me to say yes. so I did. I'm not good under pressure. Now my neighbor is in jail. The police are holding him as my made-up villain. What I am looking for is advice on how to stay out of trouble. I think if I just keep my story straight, then everything will work out fine.

My neighbor has committed crimes in the past, so overall, I am not too concerned about his story being more believable than mine. I want to come clean, but I don't think I can. can. I just want to get this over with. And oh my God, this is just ridiculous. I feel so bad for his poor neighbor that just got framed for a crime he obviously didn't do. Oh my God. I hope the OPE actually came clean, but let's get into the comment. Someone says, mate, you are a disgrace. A man accepts the consequences of his actions. The way you are talking in this confession just makes me sick. Your whole tone is about getting yourself out of trouble,

even though an innocent man is facing dire consequences due to your actions. You won't progress anywhere in life if you don't accept responsibility. It's time you ought to. Not only for this innocent man, but for yourself and how you're going to grow in the future. Take a good, hard look in the mirror. Jeez, you need to reevaluate some things. Oh, and this isn't a little lie, you fucking moron. Furthermore, guns aren't toys.

Someone else says, I'm going to give you advice from one human to another right now. You fucked up, mate. You fucked up royal. Because of your stupid lie, an innocent man is in jail. God knows what he's feeling. God knows what is happening to him. Okay, now let's take a step back.

You know you fucked up. You're confessing it. you have two options only. Number one, sit your parents down and tell them you have been thinking about it a lot and you have an important confession to make because you did something that got way out of hand. Had no idea it would result in such consequences for an innocent person. You feel awful. You want to do the right thing.

Ask them for advice. This path is the path that will lead to them informing the police. You possibly having to face consequences for your actions, which could easily be a fine or a small amount of prison time, or number two, do nothing, just forget about it. Most people pick number two. Hell, I'd pick number two because I'm not going to jail because of a lie I fucked up on. I'm also a piece of shit who's not strong at all physically or mentally. I have to live with that for the rest of my life. Just like you have to, I think.

then someone else comments saying this is the most horrible thing i have ever seen so far on reddit so congrats on that you are underage you are not going to jail you need to confess right now tell your parents what happened you won't go to jail you might get some probation but you are a kid probation is nothing your post was well written so i am not going to ask you if you are an idiot or not but do you think your neighbor is an idiot? Nothing on this planet will turn a normal person into a cold-blooded killer faster than undeserved jail time.

More than likely, your neighbor is being held under suspicion. They can't hold him forever on that. He will get out, he will be angry, and if the guy is smarter than a pavement, he is going to know 100% certainty that he is in jail because your dumb ass shot a hole in your wall and blamed it on him so your parents wouldn't spank you.

Being worried about your parents being mad at you should be the least of your fucking worries. You did a couple of hundred bucks worth of damage to your house. You didn't burn it down. Being worried about what the innocent ex-con you got imprisoned is going to do to you when the police realize he wasn't involved. And they will because punchline, he wasn't.

Should be the only thing on your mind. first daughter was R-worded at 14, and we raised the baby as our own child. Our first daughter committed S-word, and we carried on raising the baby. My grandchild thinks were her parents, and I can't bring myself to tell her the truth even now. This is a lengthy confession. I'm sorry if you don't like reading long posts, you can skip to the end if you want. Our first daughter was R-worded when she was 14. It destroyed. her childhood and flipped our lives upside down. You always assume if you bring your child upright and take care of them,

nothing bad will happen. But something bad just happened anyways. And there was nothing we could do afterwards to make what happened right. The man who did it got sent to jail eventually. But our daughter was never the same again. Counseling never brought her smile back. Nothing seemed to work. She seemed so cold and emotionally dead.

from there onward, and we tried so hard to connect back with her, but nobody could. She was an island and didn't want to talk to anyone about anything. We as parents blamed ourselves for this. We ended up pulling our daughter out of school to homeschool her because her attendance was very bad, and she suffered night terrors, which kept her awake some nights. It was probably a bad decision and overprotective parenting, but we wanted to protect her and felt a regular school wasn't a safe environment for her at the time. As if the situation could be any worse, we found out our daughter was pregnant with our

our word as child. We tried to suggest a operation to get rid of the baby because of her age in the situation, but she didn't want to. Our daughter refused to get the operation to get rid of the pregnancy, so we kept her out of school to give birth to the baby. We raised the child as our second daughter to give our first daughter the life she was robbed. We just wanted her to enjoy her and told her we raised the baby for her as our sibling and she agreed to this. It was partly out of fear of what the neighborhood would think and partly out of wanting our daughter to continue having a normal teenage life. It wasn't ideal but things worked for a time and our daughter got to see her daughter whenever she wanted, which was better than giving the baby up to adoption. Things didn't last

this way for long, though, as our daughter's mental health started to deteriorate. When our first daughter started to become heavily S-word, there was nothing we could do because every time we tried to get closer to her, she'd push us away worse than before. She was hospitalized several times for S-word attempts until she succeeded. This destroyed us. At first, we hated the baby and blamed it. We blamed it for the death of our daughter and were in denial it was our fault. Eventually, though, we realized we were to blame.

Not the child who was brought into the world by no fault of their own. We'd focused for so long on the fact it was half of the R-Wortis child that we'd overlooked the fact it was also half of our daughter. It took a lot of time to come to this conclusion, but we'd always looked after the baby out of respect to our daughter. The thought of giving it up to adoption went through my mind several times, but I knew my daughter didn't want this,

and so did my wife. We gave her daughter, our daughter, the best life we could. We bought her anything she could ever want. Took her to concerts and on holidays. We even sent her to a private school despite the extra expense with hopes that she will become successful in life and lived the life our daughter never got to live. She's home right now,

and whenever she hugs me or my wife and says, I love you, mom and dad. It hurts like a dagger through our hearts. I always look towards my wife every time our daughter says it. She finds it as painful as I do, and I can tell by the look in her eyes. It's not that we don't love her. It's that her entire life is being lived as a lie.

We're actually her grandparents, and she has no idea of this. She's never asked if we're really her true parents because, obviously, she has never had a reason to. Part of me, though, believes lying by omission is still lying, though. We've never told her the truth about her sister being her mother. She knows her sister committed S word, but she is too young to remember it. I feel as though we're protecting her from being damaged and hurt by keeping her oblivious to all of this. Maybe I'm just being selfish.

Maybe my wife is too. We just don't want to see her suffer. The thought of her not being strong enough to hear the truth scares me the most. I know I shouldn't compare her to my other daughter, but I would never forgive myself if she committed Sward 2 after learning the truth. I cannot lose both of them.

I can't survive another loss like this. The whole situation is soul crushing. The only person I can talk to is my wife. It feels like some massive thing nobody else can ever know. Not even our own parents know the truth. My son was in a car accident and it was my fault. A little backstory. I had kidney stones while pregnant and all that could be done for me was narcotic pain

management. After he was born, the doctor didn't wean me off the meds I've been on for months, so I developed a habit. At the time, I had a best friend who was a druggie, so she'd get me pills whenever I needed them. After a while, we both decided to get clean and get better. I was clean and knew she was trying to get clean too. When my son was five months old, this best friend was babysitting him and borrowed one of our cars to, run some errands. We got a call that she'd been in an accident on I-65 and totaled the car with our infant in the back seat.

Come to find out, her errands were driving to a shady part of town to buy pills and do them off a coffee table while my son was in his car seat beside her. When we got to the scene of the accident, we had multiple witnesses telling us she was doing speeds of over 100 miles an hour and appeared to be not enough at the wheel. She rear-ended a family down from Indiana on vacation. When we showed up, she was holding my son and the first thing she said was, they're already telling the police this was my fault. They're all liars.

You know I never put him in danger. I said, just give me my baby. Then the police pulled her aside to talk. While getting our belongings out of the car, my husband found a needle in the front seat. My son was fine. His car seats had been wiggled slightly sideways, but in the abundance of caution, he was still taken by the ambulance to Vanderbilt Children's. I cried the entire way. My son could have died because I decided to keep a woman around that I thought was a friend. This was years ago, and I haven't spoken to her since that day. I am 100% clean and sober now

because of this, but I still feel such a tremendous guilt that I have nightmares. And I'm crying now as I type. And all right, guys, that wraps up some horrifying confession threads. And today's video was heavy. As you can tell, there was some heavy, heavy confessions in here. Let me know your thoughts down below and make sure you like the video. Subscribe to the channel for more narrations and videos like this. And I really appreciate the support.

It means the world. Please follow me on Instagram. Follow me on Spotify. And please rate me five stars on Spotify. It helps so much. And if you enjoyed this video, I'm sure you will enjoy other. videos on the channel so go check out some other videos and I just want to say thank you so much for watching to the end of the video it means the world and also please let me know

would you like to see longer videos than this longer than two hours or shorter than this or somewhere in between I read every single comments so your support means the world and all the comments and kind words don't go unnoticed and yeah thank you so much for watching and this was snook and I'll see you next time bye