Snook - Terrifying Reddit Confession Threads

Episode Date: December 29, 2025

Some people harbour dark secrets, and sometimes people decide to confess them, in today's video we see confessions ranging from a man who deeply regrets having kids, to someone who knows they are going to pass soon, but won't tell his family or friends, these are some Terrifying Reddit Confession Threads. Timestamps:0:00 | Intro0:42 | I had an affair and k*lled my wife, now I am raising our toddler alone35:11 | I slowly became an alcoholic and it ruined my life39:08 | I am a dr*g addict. This is my story44:49 | I broke somebody's spinal cord and now he is paralyzed for life46:34 | I watched a man do something horrifying51:41 | I almost k*lled my step-mom...1:04:27 | I've been diagnosed with a terminal disease. I haven't told anyone.1:06:49 | Ten years ago today, I almost executed a plan to m*rder my brother1:17:42 | My rich dad lost it all...1:21:33 | OutroI hope every OP 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!Join 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 - 1,000,000 SUBSCRIBERS! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Let's talk groceries, specifically your groceries. With Instacart, you want your groceries just the way you like them, right? Well, the Instacart app lets you do just that. They have a new preference picker that lets you pick how ripe or unripe you want your bananas. Shoppers can see your preferences up front, helping guide their choices. Instacart, get groceries just how you like. Hey, what's up, guys, and welcome back to the channel, and today we're getting into some terrifying Reddit Confession threads.

you guys have been loving the Reddit Confession Thread video, so I'm going to keep making them as long as you guys keep watching them. So comment down below and let me know if you'd like to see more videos like this in the future. But today, oh boy, we have some terrifying and horrifying confession threads. I mean, really, really disturbing stuff. And these are some for real confessions. I just have to leave it at that. I don't want to spoil too much, but this video will be long enough already. So please like the video.

Subscribe to the channel. Sit back and relax and without further ado, let's get into some terrifying red of confession threads. I had an affair and killed my wife. Now I'm raising our toddler alone. My wife and I met when we were in our late teens. She had an extremely traumatic upbringing and severe alcohol abuse issues with occasional drug use. She would drink to blackout and was physically violent with me during these periods. and during binges would make occasional S-word attempts or threats and was physically violent with others. She would flirt with and hang out with other men while blackout drunk.

On three occasions throughout our relationship, I saw her kissing other men while falling down drunk. She would constantly accuse me of cheating despite me being totally faithful. For those who will say she chose to drink and is responsible for her drunken actions, that is not how addiction works. What she did choose was to not seek help for herself and play an active role in her recovery. So ultimately, she is responsible. But her behavior while drunk doesn't hurt as bad because I know it was driven by illness.

What did hurt was that she didn't address the causes of this and continued to minimize, deny, and dismiss the significance of her past on her drinking and her drinking on our lives. This was a source of conflict, but ultimately I chose to support her journey, love her and support her as best as I could. And hope things improved over time and as we aged and mature together, she would one day be ready to face her past and address the root causes of her drinking. As we age, the frequency decreased, but it was still really bad. She had awful social anxiety and we were not able to socialize with my friend group because the results would be. awkward or embarrassing situations due to the excessive drinking. Bouts of S were threats or attempts decreased significantly, but binge drinking continued and

occasional violence still happened. I smoked a lot of weed, but was functional and successful in my career. I do not drink and was not physically abusive. I was emotionally abusive. For example, I would yell at her the day after she did something like runoff into the night drunk and going to traffic, hit me or someone I love, and so on. It's worth noting that I grew up with an alcoholic father, and then my mom was with a man for my high school years who was alcoholic and abusive, and that my father eventually OD'd and died when I was a young adult. My wife and I

moved about 2,500 miles across the country to my home city with the goal of me starting a business and us getting away from people and places that were very triggering for her. It went pretty well. She went back to work in her profession to help cover bills while I started my company. Prior to having our child, she worked but did not drive. I would drive her to work, drive to meet her at lunch, drive to pick her up. I began earning so much money that we lost more by me driving her around than she would earn. And as a couple, we were further ahead with her not working.

She stopped working and said she drank because she was bored. If she was going to be home, she wanted to be a mom. She swore she would stop drinking to have a child, and she did. We got pregnant and she stopped entirely. The pregnancy was awful. The birth was complicated and mid-pandemic. We had no family support. I was busy with my company.

she was overwhelmed being the 24-7 caregiver to a demanding infant slash toddler. We stopped having relations or intimacy times due to her pregnancy difficulties and didn't resume due to birthing injuries. I stayed faithful and dealt with my intimate needs myself. Sidebar is that I am a very intimate person and had always struggled with our intimate relationship. At times when she would get drunk and become abusive, I would consider strange. I went as far as going for a walk with a girl once, but felt awful and told the girl I had to leave. When our son was about a year old, she was clearly feeling overwhelmed, which was very reasonable.

Even the most functional person would feel overwhelmed being with an infant 24-7 with no friends, no family, and a disengaged husband. She started drinking again, as a result. But at the time, I didn't see how this was a symptom of her lack of self. support. All I saw was that my son was going to grow up like I did, and she was breaking her promise without trying to get help. One night, around 2 a.m., I heard noises in our bedroom, and found her passed out drunk with our toddler crawling around on the floor. I went in and grabbed our toddler, and angrily whispered, yelled, What are you doing? If you passed out with him on the chair, you could have suffocated him, and started leaving with him. She got angry and

punched me in the face and pulled our toddler from my arms. I completely lost my temper, and for the first time ever, I hit her back. I hit her like a father would hit the back of a child's head when they're misbehaving. It was fairly hard. She started crying. Something broke inside me in that moment. The level of abuse, dysfunction, my disappointment in myself for hurting her, for hurting our child, for bringing him into this environment and failing to make life safe and stable for him, it all flooded me.

I had become a horrible, hateful person. I had so much resentment for my wife, my partner in life, my co-parent, that I hit her. I felt sick to my stomach and I knew that I would never do something like this again. If I ever got near that point, I need to leave,

not just the physical space, but the relationship. The next day we talked, and she said she deserved it, and knew she needed to change. More of the same, not addressing the issues, but feeling shameful

and swearing off drinking for a time, only to eventually build enough resentment and stress to justify returning. Infrequently, binge nights happened, but they were limited to her playing loud music, which was upsetting, but I did my best to ignore it and try to sleep. We moved to a new house,

in the fall of 2022. And things were good in terms of drinking. She didn't really drink at home at all. We had intimate times, maybe twice a month, but it felt like a chore and seemed to hurt her. Life was a grind. I would get up, work, come home, do child care, and she would try to see me for a bit

after our toddler fell asleep. Usually, we'd be together for 10 to 20 minutes before she would wake up screaming. It was so stressful that she would sometimes not try to see me and just stay in bed scrolling for a couple of hours before sleeping herself. I could see that it frustrated and overwhelmed her too. We had zero time to ourselves. Her family was not functional and in another part of the country. My family had all passed away.

She didn't want any babysitters until our toddler could speak clearly and was mature enough to share any situations of mistreatment. I felt like a paycheck. She felt like a mom robot. She was trying hard, staying sober, and she got her license, and she could drive him to some appointments. I tried talking to her about driving to appointments across the city, so I didn't need to leave work. But she was too nervous with our toddler in the car. She tried talking to me about being more involved and present. All she wanted from me was to get up with them at 7 to 8 a.m.

They slept together in our bed, so she was alone at night and alone getting up in the morning. I slept in the basement. I would often work or game until 3 to 4 a.m. and get up around 9 to 10 a.m. I asked her to move him into the baby room, but she wouldn't because she felt anxious that she was too far away at night, unable to respond in time for a fire, wouldn't tear a medical issue, etc. I was upset that I paid for a four-bedroom house in an expensive area. and we used one bedroom.

She was upset about my lack of support. I was upset about her lack of connection. She was too. I asked for therapy, but she refused. I started developing feelings for a coworker. I told myself that if I hit midlife and dedicated 15 years to this person and drinking was still a problem, and on top of that, I'm developing feelings for another woman

and feeling like my attempts to resolve things with my wife weren't working, that I needed to end the relationship before I cheated. I brought up that I was in a really scary mental state, that I wasn't doing well mentally, and that I needed her to hear me. I needed connection. She got angry and refused to do anything until I stepped up. She brought up all the wrong I had done.

The next time she drank, she played loud music while I was trying to put our child into bed. I texted her about it and she told me something like, Now you know how it feels to struggle alone as a parent, bud. The next day I told her I wanted a divorce. Her reaction scared the shit out of me. She was so sad and scared and shaking, scream crying, begging me to stay.

I felt so fucking bad. So awful. So guilty. It hurt me so deeply to see the woman I love hurting so bad. I knew I was developing intense feeling. for another woman and felt checked out. But how the fuck do I just leave the mother of my child, who has no other supports in this state?

At the same time, how do I continue? I was totally tapped out. I had nothing left. I was so sad, but also so angry that she didn't go into therapy with me before that I went through more than I did. decade of intense abuse and infidelity. She refused to address it. But now that something is hurting her. She is totally invested in therapy in that I don't want to was seen by her as unfair, not giving her a chance, abandoning and betraying her. It was so hard. I told her I don't want to reconcile until I see her

do the work to address the root causes of her drinking. No more caving and forgiving because of promises is to be better. I need to see it first. My feelings for my coworker were getting stronger. As we worked closely together, I told myself I need to either forget about other women and totally dedicate myself to my wife altogether and accept a lifetime of struggle with these issues, or try connecting with another woman to see what it's like. I began opening up about my emotional pain to my coworker. She told me she was going through a breakup, and I lied and said I was too. I took my ring off at work, so she could be more open to talking to me deeply. I thought I would wait until my wife had done some therapy and cut off the conversations

with my coworker if my wife put in the effort to make progress. My wife wouldn't go to therapy solo, or Alcoholics Anonymous. She said she doesn't need it and was only interested in going with me. This made it seem to me like she wasn't focused on her drinking or her trauma only in reconciling. To reconcile, I needed her to make that shift. I was growing closer and closer with my coworker, and we started going for drives outside of work. At night. My car broke down in a remote spot and it was in the middle of a cold snap in March. The tow truck was a two-hour wait.

We huddled up and I put my arm around her. I hadn't had intimate relations in weeks and was not thinking clearly. I started touching her intimately, and we had intimate time. It was very fast, only a couple of minutes. As soon as it was done, the tow truck came. I took her home and went home myself. I felt sick, and I went to what was now my basement apartment and cried while I cleaned myself. I reached out to a male friend who told me to deny until I die.

I thought my wife would commit S word if I told her, but I wonder if we could have worked through it. Maybe I was just selfish and a coward. Weeks went by and I did couples therapy with my wife. I wasn't able to invest fully because of my connection with my coworker. Even without her, I don't know if I would have been able to succeed in couples therapy. When I brought up the years of unaddressed abuse, resentment, and betrayal, my wife, would fairly point out that it was years ago. I'm just focusing on the negative. Let's move forward. We couldn't seem to focus on and get validation about my past hurts with her, and she didn't want to do

AA or therapy individually for her trauma. I stopped going to a couple's therapy and started engaging with my coworker more. I told my wife that I needed space to think and just to see if my feelings change. This was true in a way, but I didn't give her a fair shot at all, because there was no space for my feelings to change. She stayed sober and was an absolute rockstar mom and partner. I feel so fucking awful for being unfaithful to her. She caught on and started finding the evidence. She found my co-worker's hair on my shirt and asked me about it.

I denied it. She went through my phone records and saw I've been calling her often. I told her I had developed a connection with her and was confining in her. but that's it. That wasn't true. She demanded I stop. I told her I would. I did for a couple weeks, but started again.

She found cat hair on my clothes one night. I denied it was due to being at a co-worker's house. She found intimate stains on my pants one night. I said it was from snooking it. I mentally abused her by gaslighting her. She knew she was right, but wanted to believe. me so bad. And I took advantage of that. In September of 2023, I still maintained that I wasn't dating, but that I wanted to. I encouraged her to go on dating sites and start dating, that I would watch

our toddler for her so she could date others and have the romantic connection and simple human connection she craved. Unfortunately, this caused so many triggers for her that she began drinking again. It got bad, fast. I found her out. at home unconscious drunk during the day with our toddler running around. I told her I would have to take them away if she didn't get help. She swore that she would. But things just got worse. She started going on two to four day benders,

showing up high on something, not looking, talking, or acting like herself. I was so hurt and so angry. I started sleeping at my co-worker's house a few nights a week and set up cameras at home to make sure our toddler was safe, while I wasn't there. She asked me for help and I gave her a therapist name and offered to pay for everything. I was also giving her $2,000 to $3,000 per month of spending money while carrying all expenses except groceries. I offered to get maids to take care of cleaning and produce the load. We reached a point where she said she needed to be out of the house and away from my clothes,

I smell, my presence so she could heal. I told her I needed the freedom to drug or alcohol test her at any time to make sure our toddler was safe. This became an emergency court action and she eventually agreed. I helped her get a new townhouse, gave her the car, but she drove drunk and crashed it twice. My insurance covered the repairs both times, totaling $17,000. It became very scary. Her grandma died, who was one of the last people who she felt connected to, I could see a dark change in her, and she began wearing her grandma's hats and bracelets. Her other grandma died not long after, and she got even worse. I reached out to my wife's brother to express my concern, and to my surprise, he was not angry

with me. He was just as scared as me, and we meant to talk about our fear that she was dying. Selfishly, my thoughts were that I could never escape being the rescuer to my wife's emergencies. There was always an emergency. If I wasn't having an affair and simply ended our marriage, it would have still been a 10 out of 10 betrayal. And she still would have viewed me the same way, I think, who knows of him right. I held fast and didn't end my affair to reconcile or just be a support for her.

I maintained that she needed to go to AA, go to therapy, and stopped going on two to four day benders, forcing me to be off work and confusing slash scaring our toddler. I decided to move out in March of 2024. My wife got her own place in April of 2024. I couldn't financially manage paying my wife $2,000 per month net to help her survive while also paying for my own household and expenses. I cut my work hours from 50 hours per week to 20 so I could watch our toddler. This allowed my wife to work.

My coworker and I were becoming more serious and I opened up to my wife about the fact that I was dating her but lied about her. the timeline. I said I started dating her in October. She was devastated and confirmed that I had been lying the whole time. She said she was not comfortable with my coworker being around our child until we had been dating for a year. My co-worker said she needs me to be completely honest with my wife, no more lies, no more half-truths. So I was. I told my wife I've been dating my coworker since May 23. She was devastated all over again. She went through all the events I gasped her about,

all the lies, all the times it seemed like we were connecting, and told me that this was going to kill her. The lack of honesty and betrayal, I was her person, her husband, the one person who didn't leave her no matter how she treated me or what she did. And that in 2022, she finally started feeling safe with me.

We were talking about having a second child, but at the end of 2022, I blacked out because I didn't want to have another child before the drinking issue was treated. She told me she wants me to be totally honest with my coworker. And if I was, and my coworker didn't leave me, she would meet my coworker and consent to her child being around during the days.

I had our toddler at house. I told my coworker 70% of the truth, but didn't tell her that I cheated on her with my wife three times over the course of the year. And obviously, my coworker felt hurt, betrayed, angry, sad, and demanded that I don't continue conversations with my wife. I don't go to her house. I don't play the role of her support figure. I should have said, too bad. I know it's unfair. But this is my child's mother who is in a crisis and my primary job right now is to come clean about everything.

and try to help my wife get sober and healthy. I didn't, though. I tried my best to toe the line. I wanted to keep my new relationship and work my way up to being honest. I was in therapy. I phacetime my wife daily, either to do bedtime stories with her toddler when he was at her place or vice versa. I took her food to show affection through her grieving process, with her grandmother's deaths and our divorce.

In mid-May of this year, I realized I couldn't do this. I'd rather be with my wife, drinking or not, and do my best to help her. Seeing her in this much pain and knowing how much I contributed and how awful it was, I knew I had to stop what I was doing. I called my mom. She lives far away in case anyone's wondering why she was not a family support for our child, to tell her the truth about everything. My mom was very disappointed in me, but supported me in returning to my wife.

I decided to sleep on it. If I still felt so strongly and so certainly the next day, I would tell my coworker that I am not sorry, but I must prioritize family. In the morning, I got a call that she had died by S word the night before. She left a note saying that she could not handle the PTSD and nightmares from me gaslighting her. She was clear in the note that this was my fault, that I betrayed and abandoned her. and left her alone during the worst time of her life.

She was clear, explicitly, that I killed her. The coroners and detectives warned me not to read the notes, but I had to know. I came clean to my coworker about everything, including my intent to leave. Now I have lost my wife, the mother of my child, my person. I see clearly now how despite her flaws and faults, and although her drinking was not my fault, the stress I caused her that often triggered her drinking was my fault. I see how much more I could have done.

I see how horribly abusive I was. My wife was too, but not in the recent past. I see how distorted I was. I wake up in the night often. I cry constantly. I have breakdowns multiple times per day. I shake, I feel sick. I might as well have killed my wife myself.

My child is going to grow up with no family except for me. When they are 18 and ask me the truth about their mom, I will tell them and they will hate me. I don't need any of you to tell me how awful I am. I already know. I want to die. If it wasn't for my toddler, I would commit S word. I now struggled day to day trying to stay alive to look after my child.

I hate myself. I hate what I have done. I hate that I will never have a chance to explain to her. I hate that I slept on it. I was less than 12 hours away from making my decision while she was still alive, and I'm certain it would have prevented her death. Why? I hate that I prioritized the person I knew and dated for a year over the person I was with for 15 years, married and had a child with.

Yeah, she abused me. Who fucking cares? She would have always been there. If I put in more effort, she would have been okay. All she needed was some support. She was alone in the world except for me, and I checked out on her. Yeah, she refused so many chances to heal or address her issues before, but, but who the fuck cares?

Why be spiteful or say should have changed when you had the chance? All that matters is that she was ready. That it wasn't on my timeline, didn't warrant my spiteful withdrawal. I ruined my life. I killed my wife. I lost my girlfriend. I destroyed my family. I destroyed my wife's family.

I devastated my mom who lost a daughter and now has a shell of a son. I upped my life insurance to $3 million. I hope I died. My child will be set for life and will not have to deal with having a monster for a father. So many people tried to warn me. My coworker asked me many times if I was certain I was done with my wife. She said if I wanted to try again with her, I could. And she would wait for me.

My best friend warned me. My wife begged me to give her one more chance. I am so sorry for what I have done. I don't deserve to live. And, uh, me hell, let's just sit with that for a second because that's a lot to process. A ton of emotion in the opi's writing. This is just one of the most intense and emotional confessions or threads I've ever read before. The opi doesn't seem to be doing okay.

I mean, most of the time, these confessions end on a good note. This one just kept going down and down. and down. And he doesn't seem to be doing well. Let's get into some of the comments because the O.P does lay out some more issues or address some issues in the comments. So let's get into that. The O.P says, I'm in therapy in a bereavement group. I needed to dump all my thoughts somewhere and I don't want to put this on a friend. I've had some nice comments of support. I hope someone somewhere who might be in a similar situation will read my story and maybe it'll help them pause and consider what could happen. I never thought S-word would be the outcome here. I thought I had time to try

a relationship with someone stable for a while. Worst case scenario in my mind was I regretted it and asked my wife to take me back. It can happen to anyone. It's definitely not the norm, but most people who are cheated on don't die from S-word, but it can't happen. And that's the reason that he outlined it here well. And the reason why I make a lot of these confession videos, because these people or these people that make these posts can really provide support for everyone watching now. If you're in a similar situation, you're not alone. And you can just learn some lessons from people who have already been through something

and you can just realize that you're not alone and, you know, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and you can figure out your own experience or your situation. Some other comment there says, this is one of the most haunting. things I have ever read. I will never forget you. This will live with me forever now. I'll keep you and your child in my thoughts, always. And then the OP responds saying, I also feel haunted by this, by every misstep, every choice. It is a nightmare. And I can't believe I've made such bad decisions that this is now my life. No do-overs. This is it. Every day forever. you for your thoughts. Another commenter says, my heart breaks for you, man. The only thing that's going

to help you is therapy and time. You're doing the right thing by being accountable, attending support groups and individual therapy sessions, but this is a long, long road. Eventually, you'll come to understand that you're not a monster. You're just a guy that made a series of very bad decisions that had you known the ramifications of beforehand wouldn't have made. There was no way. way for you to know how your wife was going to react when you were honest with her. Stick in there. It gets better. Put in the work and be a better person for your kid. And the OPE responds to this saying, thank you for this. It's interesting that when I read what you're saying, I can believe that is true, but I don't feel it. Right now, I think any attempt I make to lighten the path feels like

letting myself off the hook. My wife is dead. And it feels wrong to do anything except suffer horribly. I hope in time I experience healing and can remember all the positives about her and how much joy she brought to her family and those around her. You are right that I am a human being who made bad choices. I think that undersells the significance and impact of my behavior and how short-sighted it was, but at the end of the day, I was hurting and not thinking clearly at all. My child is my priority now. These cycles can't be allowed to repeat. two generations now have died prematurely to Odean or S word, my measure of success in my toddler growing up happy, healthy, safe, and loved.

And I mean, that's great the OPE is taking accountability and realizing that the best steps forward is to take care of his child and to make sure this doesn't happen again and the cycle doesn't repeat. So that's a great, you know, happy ending. And then the O.P does answer a lot of general questions, which we can get into briefly. He makes an edit saying, wow, I am overwhelmed by the comments here, and so I will write a general response to everyone.

For those who wrote with support, thank you so much. The comments of support from strangers are oddly comforting. I am doing my best to heal. Though at this point, it does feel like recovery from this is not possible. I'm trying to take the perspective that this is the emotional version of a catastrophic physical injury. Or the best outcome possible is recovering some ability in making peace with the ability that has been lost.

For those who can relate, I'm sorry. If you can relate to my story, you have likely gone through a lot of pain and a lot of experience with severe mental health issues or addictions. I hope you find healing in your life. For those who wrote that, this is fake, I think it would be good to reflect on why you think it's important to post comments like this.

What is gained? The best case scenario is you are correct and someone is hurting so much in their personal life that they make up fake stories to get some type of connection. Someone without comfort in their life as a human being and need a help. Why would you want to prioritize catching them rather than giving them support? I checked a couple of profiles of people who wrote these negative comments about fake posts. And generally, the comment histories are intense, angry, and negative.

If this is you, I hope you find whatever is missing from your life that is hurting you so much. For those who wrote hateful messages about my wife, I think only someone who has been hurt by others who have addictions can lack empathy and feel so justified in condemning another human being. I hope you're able to heal from your anger and find peace in your life. Addiction is horrible, but it is only a symptom of the pain that person has been through. Some people have enough support to heal and overcome this, but not everyone does. It is helpful, I think, to not judge people who are struggling. in this way. For those who have messaged me wishing death upon me, I think only someone who has been hurt by another person in their life who has done something like I have done could be so angry

that they would wish death upon me. I am sorry you have experienced so much pain in your life and I hope you will find healing. For those who ask kindly for clarification about certain points that seem unusual, my mom lives very far away, so it was untrue to say that all my family has passed away. For someone like me who grew up with grandparents, aunts and uncles, mom and dad, it feels like I've lost everyone. I understand if some of you believe you've caught some major mistake, and this proves conclusively this is a fake story. And you are entitled to that belief. It does not justify you sending messages of hate. Regarding the term co-worker versus employee, I've never viewed those who work for me as less than. I go out on my way to not call

myself boss or them employees or subordinates. totally outside the point of my post. I also go out of my way to avoid creating a dynamic of work where I am clearly superior to anyone else. Like the above, if you believe this is proof that my story is fake, that's okay. But again, please don't act hatefully.

You can just move on from the post. And that is the last we've heard of the O.P. From this post and about this post, so I really do hope this O.P. and the OP is doing better now. And I really liked how he answered the questions at the end because sometimes I read the comments on this video or the videos that I make if he were like,

oh, that's a fake confession. And he outlined it well there. It's like, why would someone fake a confession for just some like internet pity points? I don't know. Sure, it's possible, but at the same time, why would someone spend so much time fabricating a fake story to gain pity points?

I don't know. Sure. He said, believe it if you want. But I'm really glad that he, answered all those questions at the end because I'm sure a lot of you were thinking that or thinking of some of those questions so I'm glad he provided those answers but I really do hope the opi is doing better now and if anyone watching it's going through something similar hopefully this added some you know comfort to you to realize that you're not alone and that you can get through it and I hope the opi is just doing better now and he can just you know continue on getting better and better each day

raising his child the best he can and uh just uh improving his life from this whole horrible catastrophe that I hope he can move on from and learn something from and rest in peace to Opie's wife and, you know, everyone involved. But very, very terrifying and sad and depressing story. I just hope everyone as well now. On to the next one. I slowly became an alcoholic and it ruined my life. Mail 25. Moved to California about a month before the pandemic. Came to start a small production company in the Bay Area with my longtime best friend. I met an older woman about a week before the pandemic that turned into an intense romance, and we fled the Bay Area for the SoCal desert around the second week of March. I was immediately intoxicated by the landscape and felt

an incredible draw to the environment and its earthly beauty, the magenta-kissed mountains at dawn, the soft afternoon breeze, the psychedelic sunsets, what started as a two-week stint, she returned to her parents home to quarantine, we still remain together, turned into nine months plus of staying there. I've always enjoyed isolation and felt it was a positive, detoxifying place for me to be after living in New York for almost seven years. It started slow, with just a few sips of something to take the edge off and relax while watching the sunset. As the nights followed, what started as a few sips turned into glass upon glass, upon glass. Frequently, if not every night for nearly four months straight, finishing a half

handle. I would religiously, each night light candles and listen to music, and it just all felt so calm. It seemed in some way to amplify the beauty of the desert environment. It helped me feel, something, I guess, I hadn't felt before. Free. Although I was strictly drinking mescal, which never left me with a single hangover, I did not realize the effects of such heavy drinking on my day-to-day cognitive function. The euphoria I would experience each night at times almost psychedelic in nature flowed into my everyday and the feeling of confidence, invincibility, and what I can only describe as true happiness only grew deeper. I was running half marathons, taking some of the strongest photographs of my career, and making a ton of new friends.

However, these feelings were also leading me to make extremely rash and erratic decisions, from making extremely speculative investments at huge losses, cheating on my girlfriend with multiple women, and carelessly making mistakes at my job, and withdrawing all of my life savings to purchase a piece of land in the desert. The effects of the liquor only compounded and compounded with each decision and action being more careless and thoughtless than the last, and by the end of the summer, I've been fired from my job, had nearly thrown away my career, was a nearly $100,000 worth of debt, and was on the brink of losing my girlfriend. Now in 2021, I've been sober for nearly 32 days, but am still just clined back at the effects of my alcoholism,

from last year. I don't know what it was that drove me to drink in such excess. Spend in such excess. Act without any regard for the true consequences of my actions for myself and those around me. How I allowed my life to completely spiral out of control. Perhaps it was what I felt the alcohol alleviated from a lifelong battle with depression and anxiety. During those summer months, I can't remember feeling sad or anxious or lonely a single time. I can't lie. I wish more than anything in the world to feel like that again. I've been battling Sward thoughts more recently and weirdly fantasizing about living out the last few months of my life like that again,

just to feel like that one more time. But I know I can't because it will destroy whatever it is I have left. I am a drug addict. This is my story. For nine years now, I've been addicted to Breaking Bad substance. I'm sorry I have to censor it, but I'm sure a lot of you have watched Breaking Bad, and it's the crystal.

So, yeah, it's ruined my life. During that time, I've lost my wife, my kids, my house, my job, my car, and my self-respect, and most of my teeth. I started doing crystal, and I kept it from my wife for a long time, but eventually she figured it out. She told me I had to stop immediately, or she and the kids. were leaving. I agreed and promised to stop, then got high the same night. She eventually figured it out again and gave me the same ultimatum, but added that I needed to join a 12-step

program. I did, and I stayed clean for a long time, but then I had a shitty day and went right back to it. She found out, and she and the kids left that night. She told me that we were done. She made it clear to me that it was them or the crystal, and I picked crystal. After they left and my wife sent me the divorce papers, I started to spiral. I started doing more and eventually it affected my work. I fucked something up because I was strung out from the night before. It was an accident with heavy machinery. Thankfully, no one was injured but it was company policy to drug test me and I did not pass it.

So they fired me. I got even more into Crystal and would do it for days with friends of the apartment I was living in. Eventually, I needed more drugs but had no more money, so I started doing petty crimes for drug money. Then the unthinkable happened. My ex-wife was in a terrible accident and passed away. My children had already lost their father, and now they lost their only parent who was taking care of them. I was high as shit when I heard the news. I had a breakdown, and I checked myself at a rehab and joined the program again.

I had to be there for my children. They were living with her parents as they were the closest family. I got my act together and saw them for the first time in over four years. I was afraid I might never be able to get them to forgive me, but the first thing they did was hug me and cry because I looked so much better than the last time they saw me. I started working multiple jobs to save more money, but I would come by and see them every couple weeks. I worked 60-plus hour weeks for four years, saving every penny I could, and when my son graduated last year,

I told him about the money I saved for his and his sister's education. He was speechless. It was not a small amount I saved for both of them, but I lived in a shitty studio in a bad part of town. Had two decent paying jobs, and I didn't have things like cable, internet, I'm using my neighbor's Wi-Fi for my phone, or bought anything that wasn't essential.

Between the money I saved, his parents saved, and his scholarship my son went to one of the better law schools in the country. He was reluctant to take that much money from me, and he is still angry with me for everything I have done, and rightfully so, but I'm glad I convinced him to take it. I told him that I didn't get the money because I wanted him to forgive me. I did it because he deserved better than what he got from me,

and so does his sister. I'm so proud of him. He's going to be an incredibly successful someday. He's going to be a better man than I am in every imaginable. away despite the ways I've failed him for so much of his life. I'm still on track with my daughter's money and she's graduating next year. I did have to quit the second job early this year because honestly, both jobs are very physically demanding and I honestly just can't do these kind of long hours anymore. My doctor tells me I will probably need knee surgery in the near future because

of the damage done to my knees, but honestly, I don't care if I ever walk again after next year. as long as I get my daughter her money to further her education in whatever way she sees fit. If I can do that for my children, it won't make up for anything, but it'll ensure that they will be well off. She wants to be a doctor. I just hope she can swing med school with the money. I'm getting her. It'll all be worth it to see my children succeed. I'm doing better now.

I'll be getting my five-year chip in a few months. I will never use again or let my children down. I'm planning on getting a second job again in a few months after some more time of working only 50-ish hours a week just to get more money. I know my body will hate me for this and I will have it best maybe a few years before things get worse for me physically, but it's okay. I will be fine knowing that I made sure my children will be successful and better than me. It's going to be worth it. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, wow, what a life, man.

Congrats on the sobriety and overcoming it before you. took you. Someone else says, thank you for sharing, bro. It's okay to fall down, but you must get up. You had your share downfalls, but you also got the strength and rose to the occasion. I wish you nothing but success in your life and hope

you find what it is you're looking for. Cheers. And since then, the O.P.'s account has been banned, so I don't know how he's been doing. This was posted it four years ago, so hopefully the OPE is doing well now. Hopefully, as kids are in college, hopefully they've graduated from college.

and are doing well now. But wow, what a story of, you know, getting down but eventually getting back up. Seems to have ended on a good note, which is always great. I broke somebody's spinal cord, and now he is paralyzed for life. When I was 12, there was this boy in my classroom who loved gymnastics I used to pick on sometimes. Me and my friends called him girly or F-sler and stuff. One day in gym class, he was doing some kind of gymnastic twirl. I do not know what this is called in English, but is like a complicated gymnastic pose.

I don't know. When I decided to push his back with my foot in order to make him fall, he fell down to the ground heavily and broke his spinal core, which most likely will have him paralyzed for his entire life. I was not sentenced in any way due to that. It was considered an accident because of my young age. Law might be different in my country than in the U.S. I just got changed to another school. I've tried to reach him and his family several times, but they do not want anything to do with me, of course.

He was a boy with dreams and talent and gymnastics, and I have forever ruined his life. I have been depressed ever since. I wish I could swap places with him because he does not deserve that. Almost three years have passed, and it feels like a never-ending nightmare. Somebody will not be able to live his life properly because I am a jerk.

No one wants to be near me since then. I look forward to starts an anti-bullying campaign in the future, but nothing will ever be enough because the boy will always be in a wheelchair, no matter how much I tried to redeem myself. I watched a man commit S-word. And that's not the exact title, but I have to censor for YouTube's sake.

But anyways, let's get into it. I watched a man commit S-word, in person, right in front of me. A little backstory. I am a firearms instructor slash range safety officer at a shooting range.

Before any first time guest, regardless of their shooting experience, come to the range, and before they are allowed to rent a firearm or use their own on our range, they must register and create accounts on our iPads near the front entrance, and they must watch a safety video

explaining the not only the rules of our range. but general universal firearm safety rules and every guest who is not a law enforcement officer or holder of a firearms license must come with a buddy and a valid form of identification driver's license or USID or a passport for non-Americans nobody shoots alone unless the mentioned criteria is met and before we get into the rules I just want to emphasize how important this is whether or not you support guns or you don't support guns or whatever or have shot a gun or have a shot a gun or never want to or you do want to. I think it's very important and these are rules

everybody should know especially if you're in the US where guns are a lot more common I guess but yeah the OP then lists seven rules that are very important and I myself just agree with everything said and it's very important for everybody to know this. So number one always keep the firearm pointed in a safe Direction. Number two, always keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire. Three, always keep the gun unloaded until ready to use. Four, know your target in what is beyond slash behind it. Five, know how to operate your firearm safely.

Number six, always wear eye and ear protection. Number seven, never use drugs or alcohol before a wall using a firearm. Okay, so now we got that out of the way. let me explain how our range handles safety. It is always our number one priority. It does not matter how long you've been shooting. From a novice to a master, you, if any RSO reasonably believes,

you are being unsafe with your firearm, rented, or owned, you will be ejected from the range, banned, and have no refund. Furthermore, prior to first-time guests entering the range, they must go through a hands-on training class on how to use firearms safely, as a failsafe for anyone zoning out during the video. During this time, we are not only demonstrating properly

and safely using firearms, but we also watching mannerisms, behaviors, and looking for red flags. Unfortunately, this person was not demonstrating any red flag behavior, so we had no idea this person had the intention of using our gun to do something horrifying. He was laughing and saying, smiling and holding conversations with us and the rest of the staff.

At around 4 p.m. on a Friday in early September, two men came in to rent a pistol. After they went through our first-time guest registration process, they went into the range to shoot being supervised by myself and my coworker. There were two other guests shooting as well, one who I know and talk to regularly, and another who is a member of our range, but I am not familiar with. after the two men shot upwards of 70 to 80 rounds the man goes up takes a few shots at his target takes his ear protection off and turns the gun

to commit S word and before I lifted my hands and yelled for him to stop he fired a single shot and then the description gets graphic so I won't read everything because it's just very graphic but he commits S word right there he was dead before he hit the floor and before either of us RSOs can react, his body is now on the ground with blood pooling

as we guide the other shooters out of the range. We have quick alarm buttons on our walls in every range and at the counters outside the call for either medical or police. I lift the glass on medical and hit the button. My co-workers radio, in that we have a S-word and to have the guy at the counter called 911. We both stood over the guy's body, not knowing what else we could do

or what we should have done to prevent this from happening and saving his life. What haunts me to this day is the fact that there were no indications of this man having the idea of doing something like that. Hug your loved ones. Say you love them. Call your family. Call your friends. Check in on them.

You never know what someone is feeling or thinking. And I learned that lesson the hard way. P.S. I'm fine. It was intense, but I proceeded it with without lasting impact. I stayed grounded. I understood the gravity of the situation, but it didn't resonate with me on a personal level. I almost killed my stepmom. This is pretty hard for me to post. I've never talked to anyone about this. Even my wife doesn't know the full extent of it, but here we go. In 2000, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was a two-year-old. pack a day smoker for about 25 years. She fought hard and was able to extend the short life expectancy the doctors gave her. I'm not sure how long they gave her. I was 10. They spared me the details. Anyways, she survived for over a year and ended up passing away in February of 2001.

I remember as if it was yesterday. Her best friend came over the very next day as we were in mourning to pay respects and say goodbyes to her friend, which is normal and fine. The thing I felt weird about was that same night. The day after my mother's passing, she spent the night with me and my dad. She slept on the couch. At the time, I didn't think too much of it. Had other things on my mind, obviously. Plus, we had numerous family and friends coming by and sleeping over before her passing as well,

so I grew semi-used to it. Time goes on, and it seems every other night she's sleeping over. Within the first months of my mother's death, she's finally sleeping in my dad's room with him. During this time, she was respectful and nice. She brought her two youngest kids a lot as well, which was nice at the time. Fast forward three months. We ended up moving and she and her two kids end up coming with us. By this time, they are already talking about marriage, which I strongly protested,

along with every single family member of mine as well. They decided to ignore me and everyone else and get married. The same year my mother passed away. At first, things were the same as they were, but as time went on, she began to show favoritism to her own kids, which I guess is understandable, but to the extent that it grew was kind of disturbing,

she'd let her kids get away with murder. They would tell me, make fun of my dead mom. Through ashtrays at me yelling, your mom wants a hug. She was cremated, so pretty much, anything with Ash was fair game to use to fuck with me. A year goes by in the new house and me being a skater kid, I frequented the skate park a lot. On my way back home one day, I ate shit, bad, hit a crack in the road on a very steep and large hill. I was probably going in excess of 20

miles an hour. The board stopped, my body flew, then rolled a few more feet. I was barely able to move but managed to hobble back, cradling my arm like a baby, and screaming at the top of my lungs the way home. As I'm walking up, she intercepts me in the garage and accuses me of overreacting and tells me the quote of stop being a little pussy. I knew there there was something wrong with my arm, considering I was physically unable to move that at all. But she wouldn't listen to me, and my dad wasn't home from work yet either. For hours, I waited for him to show up and when he does, it turned out my SM had already talked to him, so he wouldn't listen either. I think SM is stepmom. The next day was a school day.

I remember this because I was awoken by my stepmom, little creet of a son, throwing my full backpack onto my chest to wake me up. I woke up screaming. Stepmom comes running to the room and promptly tells me to shut the fuck up. You're not hurt. Stop faking because you're going to school.

Well, I couldn't stop. I was in agony. I was still holding my arm like a baby, so she punched my bicep. In the fashion friends, what I guess you could call. Instead, I'm taking your dumb ass to the hospital, just to make sure you feel stupid when they tell you nothing is wrong. Well, upon seeing the doctor, he almost immediately says,

yep, your shoulder was broken. I can tell by the way your arm instinctively supporting your arm. SM was silent. Doctor set up x-rays. Turns out my collarbone was completely shattered. Proved her wrong, but it only fueled her rage more it seemed. She became spiteful, took away all my skateboards, bikes, anything that I could ride. My arm was in a sense.

sling anyway, so it wasn't like I could use them anyways. But she had no intent on giving them back to me. In fact, she gave them to her own son. Even my own dad said it was for the best because I've shown to be irresponsible with them and can't use them correctly. Only thing I was able to do was play video games, barely, considering my arm was completely bundled up. Another few months ago by and my arm is healing up good. And we all go on easy hike in the desert. We find and pick up some wild cactus apples. Excited and eager, I start eating one with the help of my dad. Turns out there were little mites in the fruit, and I contracted scabies.

Half of my face swells up in the most morbid of ways. I couldn't talk right, couldn't open one of my eyes. I was fucked up. My older sister, that I just realized I haven't mentioned at all yet in this post, came to visit me with my two nephews. drove three hours just to hang out with me and see how I'm doing. As soon as she sees my gruesome swollen face, she screams in terror, grabs her kids and leaves. Needless to say, it made me feel like more shit, but I understand.

She calls my dad urging him to take me to the hospital, but stepmom refuses again, saying it's not that bad and that all I need is a nice, warm washcloth. Well, two weeks go by, swelling is reduced, but not completely gone. Sister threatens to call the cops if they don't do something. So stepmom again tries saying she's going to feel dumb when it turns out to be nothing. Well, this time doctors say at this point, they can't tell what it is. Skabies was the most likely considering the symptoms I'm told, that I should have been there two weeks prior when I couldn't open my eye.

Stepmom takes this as a win. More time goes by, more shit happens with stepmom. CPS is called and I'm interviewed. Nothing happens with that. Holidays were ruined by her kids, yet I was to blame. I ended up basically being the Cinderella of my house at this point. My bed was even moved into the laundry room. One year the pipe burst in my room flooded up to eight inches.

Nothing was done about that. Eventually, when I was about 14 years old, I worked up to encourage to tell my dad what I thought about her and how she treats me. Well, I guess by this time he was so tainted by her that he began talking like her. He said, get over it. She's not mean.

You're just trying to antagonize for the sake of drama. I told him if that's how he feels, then I'm moving out to live with my sister. My sister agrees and I move out. Life was good for a bit, till I started missing my dad. I felt like I failed him, so after two years living with my sister, I decided to move back in with my dad. Almost on arrival, my stepmom starts her shit all over again. Comments like, great, more unneeded doctor visits, or no skateboarding, don't want your sister calling the CPS again. It was actually my aunt that called. I found out years later.

On the day before my 17th birthday, I will never forget the words that came out of her mouth. I was getting breakfast and made a comment on how the house was starting to reek with a cigarette smoke smell. I'll admit at this point I was a bit snarky, but I said it to myself. Stepmom wasn't in the room, but she heard me all right. She storms in and tells me, if you don't like it, then go back to your sister's house. Or did she kick your whiny ass out, and that's why you're back. I snapped and told her to fuck off and to commit S word. She walked up to me and looked down at me.

She's a good foot taller than I am. I'm pretty damn short. And says, you do it. I fucking dare you. I stare at her in disbelief and she just starts laughing. Fucking pussy, you're weak, just like your mom. At this point, I have a death grip on my fore. with every intention of sticking it in her throat, but I don't.

I keep quiet and continue eating my breakfast. That was the first of many comments about my mom. Seem she took a page from her own kids that used to say they very similar insults. Only thing is, she was supposedly my mom's best friend. I call her out on this and she tells me to fuck off and die. Because of the years of mental abuse, I become depressed. S word was on my mind a lot, and she knew it. She egged me on, telling me to say hi to my mom in hell when I get there.

She would get drunk and say the most horrible things, like, I hope Satan makes your mom put cigarette butts out on your face for eternity. After a while of this, I made a, I can't say this word on YouTube, but he made a rope to commit S word with, measured the rope, and tied it to a wooden beam on my ceiling. One night I tried to commit S word. The wooden beam above me broke, and obviously I survived. I took this as a sign that maybe I'm not the one that needs to die.

Eventually, I end up finding my dad's gun after a few days of snooping in this room when no one was home. I hit it in my room and kept telling myself on repeat next time she's blind drunk. Well, a friend came over one night and we began talking a bit. I told him I was fed up and that I had a plan. I didn't go into details, but he's a smart person. He was able to figure out what I was planning pretty easily. He began crying to me. He pled for me not to go through with anything and to move back into my sister's house.

This went on for quite a bit, but eventually he talked me out of it. I showed him the gun, and he snatched it so fast and took off out of my house and down the road to the lake. He tossed that motherfucker as hard as he could into the water. Somehow seeing that made me feel better. Anyways, I realize this is pretty anti-climatic, but after that, I just ended up moving back in with my sister. No one in the family has any contact with my dad or his wife anymore, and at this point, I think that's his choice.

It's been over 10 years since then. I've moved across the country to numerous different states. I've made a career and name for myself. I got married to my dream girl, and we have the best little girl to give. her. Things could not be better. Last I heard, stepmom's two youngest are in rehab centers, and stepmom had a massive heart attack that almost killed her. Surprised me that she even has a heart, karma, I'm guessing. Anyways, that's my life. Lade it all out in its poorly written glory. I'm sure some people won't buy this, but I honestly didn't put this here for anyone else other than myself,

so it's no skin off my back. Take what you want from this whole thing, as you will. I'm just glad to get this off my chest one way or another and grateful that I had an amazing friend that was able to help me out of my darkest places. And you know, at the end, he really outlined two very important things. There is always a lot at the end of the tunnel. Your life can always get better. I mean, it looked very bleak for him at one point, trying to commit, as for it himself, and then trying to murder his stepmom. I mean, two horrible things that presented opportunities to him, but he He got through it. He got through the bleed time.

He got through the bad time. And if you're going through anything even similar or not even similar, but even no matter how bad it is, how depressed you are, how bad or horrible of a situation you are in, you can get out. And there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. And also, the second thing that he outlined was talking to somebody. He talked to his friend, and his friend saved his life because he would have been in prison for the rest of his life.

and so you know that's two very important things that i just want to outline talk to somebody if you're going through something please talk to somebody i've said it in multiple videos beforehand if you have nobody to talk to reach out at the email um my email in the description of this video or in the my about section but yeah you should never resort to any of these extremes and there is always another option so if you're in a situation like this just keep going it will get better and talk to somebody because that can definitely, you know, make your situation a lot better and alleviate a lot of the stress on your shoulders. I've been diagnosed with a terminal disease.

I haven't and don't want to tell my friends and family. What up fam? Longtime Lurker. Don't know why I'm posting this. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's that I'm tired. You know, really tired. So here's my story. Some months back, I was hospitalized with pneumonia, and I spent a week in the ICU.

My bloody lung had collapsed. Long story short, I'm in my 30s. Always been pretty fit. One of those annoying assholes that loves to get drunk and run marathons the next morning. But landed myself in the hospital, and after extensive tests, the docs found I had scar tissue on my lungs. My family and friends came to see me, but at the time, nothing really serious. was discovered, you know, besides a deflated lung and pneumonia. I hate when people worry, so I tend to downplay anything serious. Now fast forward a few months. After lots of scans and tests,

I've got pulmonary fibrosis. Basically, my lungs ain't so bueno. It's still in the early stages, so I don't have to be on oxygen yet. But this is it for me, kiddos. Never thought I'd go out because of my lungs. Always figure it would be a heart attack or getting stabbed by a tweaker in an alley. What's funny is, I'm not really mad about it. People talk about fighting disease. I've been in plenty of scraps. I've taken life. I've seen life taken. This isn't like that. Not at all. When it's your time, it just is. I feel like a fraud, a liar. I know people around me can tell things aren't okay, but I don't want to talk about it, you know. I've seen too many people die too slowly. What happens to people around them is agony. I've always been the strong one, but right now,

I feel pathetically weak. I hate being dishonest. Everyone around me has so much shit going on, they don't need to deal with this too. So I'm telling you, my digital compatriots that gaze into this digital ether, I'm a coward. But that's okay. 10 years ago today, I almost executed a plan to murder my brother. I always consider myself the fuck up of the family. In this victim mentality really didn't do me any favors. My brother and I had kind of a rough start of it.

Both parents underemployed, father alcoholic, mother depressed and sort of checked out of reality. We were latchkey kids basically raising ourselves. I kind of decided life was over before it began, but my brother was, like, I don't know if he was oblivious to the whole situation, or if it fortified him, but he was just driven from day one. He was the younger brother, which made it even worse for me. While I was failing classes and getting teased and disappointing everyone, he was crushing it at everything he even gave a try. Phenomenal athlete, math whiz, everyone liked him, and somehow he actually managed to be a good, person on top of all that. At the time, I thought everything came incredibly easy to him,

so I didn't acknowledge any of the backbreaking hard work he had to put in to be that kind of guy. The resentment built up for the years, and eventually I became pretty alienated for my family. That's when I got into the party lifestyle, and from there gambling. It started as the group I'd fallen in with, always hitting casinos for cheap drinks and fast girls, but quickly became an obsession for me. They liked the games. I loved it, to the point that I lost the friends and just hung out at the casino all the time. Meanwhile, my brother was building this tremendous small business and making out really well

for himself. Eventually, I hit bottom, or what I thought was bottom, after losing every last cent of borrowed money and having to leave town. I went to my brother. In earnest at the time, and begged him to just give me one more chance. He was so incredible. He got me into a program and helped me get clean.

He got me a job at his business. He even let me live with him despite the fact that his fiancé definitely hated my guts. But he didn't know about my gambling. I never told him. I stayed on the straight and narrow for a while, but after about a year,

I had just convinced myself that he wasn't doing any of these things, the job, the rehab, the room out of kindness, but out of condescension. I grew to despise him in my whole life around him, even though it was exponentially happier and healthier than anything previous in my adult life, though I was too blind to see it. I felt beholden to him and figured that's what he wanted. At no time did it occur to me. He wanted me to get on my own two feet and just be his brother. I figured if I was too cynical to do the same for him, why would he do it for me?

I couldn't cope with the shame and remorse and anger oscillating inside. One moment I'd feel crippling rage. The next, I'd be overwhelmed with guilt for being so ungrateful. Then I'd be angry at him for making me guilty. The thrill of hitting a big win was my only release. It made me feel successful and worthwhile and independent and gave me the sense of hope that nothing else at that point could. A lump sum of cash seemed like the answer to most of my problems,

with the answer to the rest being a bigger lump sum. But it wasn't even really about the money, so much at that point. I already had the best job I'd ever had before. It was the beautiful women, the free stuff, you know. You just feel like a movie star when you're on a run in a halfway decent casino. And you would only have to do the bare minimum to make me feel special in the moment because I felt so, so, so low in the rest of my life. After about a year and a half, I thought my brother might be getting suspicious because

I was making good money at my job, but never seemed to buy anything fancy or make a move towards my own place. My presence was definitely causing strain on his marriage, and he was probably anxious to kick me out without forcing me back to my old lifestyle. So one day I told him, I'd got an apartment, and I took off. I was actually homeless. Some nights the casino would give me a room, but by that point, I rarely had enough money to attract attention.

I started borrowing from shadier and shadier people. My friends had learned their lesson about lending me anything of value, and most weren't even talking to me anymore. Or I cut contact with them in a rage when they refused to lend me money. In my eyes, at the time, they had so much, and there was no reason they couldn't kick me a few bucks. They were just greedy assholes. Yeah, I was a mess.

But I always managed to pay back what I'd borrowed or get away from the lenders before anything too serious happened until I couldn't. An escort I was spending a fair deal of time with back then vouched for me to some friends of hers that I was good for a loan. I took out more than I usually would. I was sick of being homeless and convinced myself if I could just get enough capital work with,

I could get in a nice place and sell my family. paintings for a living and have a nice comfortable life. I was prepared to do whatever it took to make that night be the last night of living that way. And I kept telling myself, next time I was going to be it. Things would turn around. I was about to start winning again. It was statistics. I had to win the next one. I took more risk than I usually would and dipped into my emergency fund and put myself in a really bad position. I lost it all. all. It was more borrowed money than I'd ever lost and I knew I was fucked. I was given a very clear ultimatum as to when I had to return the money. They knew way too much about me via the

escort who recommended me for any hope of skipping out. Plus, unlike the smaller guys I dealt with before, mostly friends, friends of friends, employers or wannabes. These weren't the type of people to so easily forget a big loan. I spent the first couple of days calling in favors. I didn't really have any favors to call, so that didn't really help me. Only one guy even took my call, and that was just to tell me no, nicely. Then I started thinking I'd end things, but I was just such a narcissistic bad person back then that within 12 hours of planning how I'd do it, I thought, this is really my brother's fault, that I'm in this position. Why should I have to pay for what he did to me? He's been holding me down my whole.

whole life. I was so out of my mind back then that I don't know what the thought process leading up to that could have even been. But the only one of our parents we spoke to was dead. So I figured there must be something for me in the will. He didn't have any kids yet. We talked about the end of our life at some point and he'd strongly hinted he'd leave something for me. Despite his success, he lived pretty frugally. So I couldn't just snatch his car or anything to handle this. I was wasn't smart enough and didn't have enough time to embezzle. I figured I could make it seem like a robbery gone bad. I was nowhere near smart enough, even in a lucid state to pull that off. I don't know what I was thinking. I made a spectacularly half-assed, nonsensical plan and was going to wait

outside his house. He, or rather his fiance made me give back the key when I moved out and just go for it. My plan involved me showing up before he got home from work and did not take into account what I'd do if he were to come home early for whatever reason. So as I was approaching the house, he was out back doing some repairs, and he recognized me. I don't know if my height and build are that distinct, or he knew my shoes or what, because I was wearing a mask and he immediately came around and say, Hey, is that you? Come on in here. I was just fixing to go out.

Have you eaten yet? I was still far enough away that I guess he didn't register, that I was lurking around in the dark with a mask, but I ripped it off and something just overtook me. I was at the absolute peak of my stress levels and in a delirium. I just broke down. For maybe the first time in my life since he was a baby, I saw my brother in a wholly positive light

and as a refuge rather than a threat. And I just collapsed crying. I told him my whole payment situation. He consoled me and took me inside and worked out an agreement in which he paid off the people in a question contingent on me entering treatment. He had no idea about my gambling problem before then. From then on, thanks to a lot of therapy and GA, I managed to heal from the whole cluster fuck that was the beginning of my life.

My brother knows about everything now, the feelings of resentment, the lies, but not this. I've still never told anyone this. I almost talked about it in my last meeting, but I just can't bring myself to talk about it. I'm far too ashamed and I'm always worried if I say it even one place out loud

someone might know my brother and feel compelled to tell him even though I would never in my right mind which I am now consider doing something like that my brother would have no reason to believe it I almost told him on step 5 and again on step 9 but I figured it would fall into the

cause injury two category basically means that it is something that would be more hurtful to tell him than to let him go on not knowing because he's already had so much hurt and betrayal in his life. He genuinely trusts me now. He's happier for that and it took years to get to that point. It might make me feel better to tell him, but it would probably be just one more burden for him to carry. I almost told him today, thinking enough time had passed. It had to be all right, but I thought about it and realized, you know, he stands to gain nothing. It would really be so much. It would really be so

much more for me than for him. I love him so much and I'll never forgive myself for spitting in the face of his kindness for so many years. I could never tell him. But at the same time, it definitely creates a wedge between us. I've thought about it more than once. I couldn't ever take the risk. He's the best thing I'll ever have. I've just got to put that all behind me. I think this helped me think through it, though. I don't know. Thanks for reading if he did get this far. Oh, and if you need help, do try a meeting. My brother dragging me into one surely saved my life. I'll drop a list of national hotlines in the comments. My rich dad lost it all. So I'm 24 female. I come from a very privileged place and I can't really talk about that with my friends because I'm not

really sure there will be any left after that. So I'm saying that here. My dad made his money because he was in tech when no one was. Like, he started working in the 90s and got involved in the creation of so many major companies, it's actually insane. He made millions from it. And today, he's now about to be homeless. So how did he do such a magic trick, he may ask? Addiction is not your friend.

I'm pretty sure my dad has them all. Alcohol, gambling, drugs. When I was little, it was pretty well known that we had money. And I mean, pretty easy to see. I had an amazing apartment with a beautiful view, a castle for the weekend, and various summer houses. We were always traveling to exclusive places. I had my first Chanel bag when I was nine, my first Rolex at 12. But behind the scenes, everything was bad.

My mom left my dad when I was four because he was beating us. when he was drunk. And from that moment on, well, he wasted everything. It started to be well-known in his line of work that he wasn't reliable for partying too much, not showing to some important meetings, etc. For that, people got less inclined to work with him, and rightfully so. But even with that, he was settled for life in theory. For some strange reason, he stopped paying his taxes. Like, I don't know. He just didn't feel like it anymore. Well, that's what got him in the end. Also the crazy gambling, but a casino can't cease you.

The state can. So little by little, everything got sold, and now they came for where we lived and we lost that too. In a month, he'll be in the streets without a job. I've still got one year left to uni that don't really know how I'm going to pay for. A trust fund isn't a thing in my country, and I don't really have anything to my name, but I'm about to be a doctor, so I'm not too worried.

worried for me, my dad on the other end, I don't know what's going to happen. Honestly, it just is hard to comprehend how you can go from having it all to nothing. Piece of advice, don't drink and pay your taxes. And I mean, wow, that's just such a depressing story. And who knows what happened to the O.P's father? Because I don't know how you can deal with the weight of knowing you had at all and you're homeless now. Like, what do you even do at that point? Truly, like, that is like just rock. I don't know how he even recovered from that. So I hope O.P.'s father's doing the best he can, but I mean, this is a great lesson. Once again, I mean, we've covered multiple confessions in today's video about addiction. And this just goes to show that nobody is, you know,

invincible to addiction. Addiction can tear anybody down. Whether you have millions or whether you have $5 in your pocket, addiction can ruin your life. You can have it all and it can go to nothing. So just everyone watching, just take this as a lesson and a moral of a story. Addiction is a slippery slope and even if you have millions of dollars to protect yourself, it still may never be enough.

So just, you know, please be responsible everyone watching with drinking, drugs, gambling, etc. Or just don't do it. Because basically the only thing that can stem from it is bad. But yeah, just a great moral of the story. And with that last one, that wraps up some terrifying Reddit confession threads. What were your guys' thoughts on this video? This video was very heavy, very depressing, very sad. And I think a lot of lessons to be learned here. I really do think that these confessions and stories can teach you a lot. It's taught me a lot just reading through people's experiences on what I should and shouldn't do throughout my life. And, you know, it's really impacted me. So hopefully some of these confessions impacted you as well. And I just want to say,

thank you so much for watching. It means the world. Please like the video. Subscribe to the channel and check out some other videos on the channel. I'm sure you'll enjoy those. And I just want to say I appreciate you guys so much. Thank you so much for watching. It means the world. And yeah, this was Snook. And I'll see you next time. Bye.