Snook - Unsettling Anonymous Confessions

Episode Date: May 7, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another anonymous confessions video and viewer submitted confessions video. You guys have been loving this series a lot and showing a lot of support for this series. And I'm going to continue giving you guys a place to, you know, get something off your chest and confess to something. And so welcome to some unsettling anonymous confessions. Please let me know it on the comments below. Would you like to see this series continued? And please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps so much. And the channel's goals. 100,000 subscribers and we're getting closer and closer every single day. So please subscribe and join this awesome community. You guys are the best. And yeah, anyway, so enough yapping. Let's get into

some unsettling anonymous confessions. A haunted man's confession. Not mine. I'll explain. Hello, Snook. I've been listening to your channel for a little bit now in one of your confession videos popped up. I'd like to make a confession and ask for forgiveness, but not for me, is for my father. Weird, I know, but hear me out if you'd be so kind. A bit of background. My father was raised old school Catholic back in the 50s, where he grew up there were a lot of farms and even more poor people. As a young child, he was basically an indentured servant. He was given away to a local farmer to work on the farm in exchange for food in a home. He lived close to his parents and his siblings. His father was a nice man, but his mother was basically a monster

way that means. In order to escape that life, my father enlisted into the Marine Corps as soon as he was able to. By now, this was just in the middle of the Vietnam War and my father did two tours, voluntarily. At the time, he thought he would rather be over there and not come back than be stateside, because no one cared about him either way. The things that happened to our soldiers over there, I don't think anyone could ever possibly imagine, but put a young man who grew up thinking he was garbage in the mix to start with, and you have a recipe for guaranteed PTSD. What I'm about to type, I please, I beg you that if you do, and if you choose to read this, and everyone else, please listen with an understanding heart, please understand, war is literal hell, and Vietnam especially

holds literal nightmares worse than what I'm going to type here. I can only tell you what I was told. And according to my mother, what I was told wasn't even the worst of it. My father, a decorated veteran with three purple hearts and then some, when he came back and my parents had my brother and I was a stone cold sober man. He never drank a drop of alcohol for good reason, but I'll come back to that part later. He was a respected police officer. His neighbors loved him. He helped him when he could. He helped his elderly neighbor plower driveway every year. He would give his fishing gear away to local neighborhood kids. He became a shoulder to cry on for a friend of mine when she was going through hard times. On the job, he was the guy you called when you needed a level

headed, fair officer unseen. He believed greatly in justice and the law, to the point he turned to some crooked officers. He helped train a lot of officers throughout the decades. He served his community. He did all of this as a single dad after my mother ran off with another guy. This is a man who suffered from severe PTSD with undiagnosed bipolar disorder. He did his best to provide for us, but we were dirt poor. My mother really took him to the cleaners and a judge just let her do it, but that's another story. One night, I was 10 years old at the time. I woke up and heard talking in a living room. It was my dad's voice, but I couldn't make out what he was saying, even though his voice was very clear. My room was situated so that I could see past two bedrooms,

straight through into our small living room and the walkway into our kitchen. I quietly got out of bed and slowly peeked my head around the doorway of my room. On the couch I saw my father cleaning a gun. That wasn't unusual. Being a police officer, he worked odd hours.

He was also an avid hunter and outdoorsman, the kind that city boys called to take them hunting and pretend they got a deer, moose, bear, whatever. This time, though, it was different. It was terrifying. His face, it was absolutely blank. His eyes were strange, as if his pupils were dilated as far as they possibly could be. What he was saying, almost chanting.

I later found out it was in Vietnamese. I don't know exactly what he was saying, but it was said in a lifeless, monotone voice. As if someone pressed stop on whatever he was saying, he stood up and turned a face down the hallway, gun at the ready, and his face totally blank. Lifeless. I'm not ashamed to admit I almost did something involuntarily out of fear. I thought whatever that thing wearing my dad's face was looking right at me,

and I was going to no longer resist in the next few minutes. Almost as soon as I thought that he stiffly turned again, and robotically opened the side door, walked out into the night, closed and locked the door. I must have cried myself to sleep because I woke up under my bed where I was hiding, from my own father. I'm grateful to say I'd never seen him do it again. I have no idea where he went, what he did, or why he looked and acted so strangely. A few years later, my father took me out to the local camping site at the beach. This was a yearly thing that every family did during the summertime.

My dad and I were the last ones to be awake. My dad had a huge, nasty scar on his shoulder that must have been nine inches long, about three inches wide and just looked like a had been ripped to pieces. I reached out and ran my finger on it and finally had the courage to ask my dad what it was like over in the war. He did the normal. It's not something I really want to talk about. You're a girl. You don't need to know about such things, etc., etc. We both got quiet for a bit when he finally started speaking. Do you know why I call you Barbie? I said no. I just thought it was short for my real name, which is it. But he never called me by that name. I knew a little girl.

She used to hang around our platoon. She was clearly an orphan. She had these big brown eyes that were so innocent. I have no idea why she hung around, probably because we were giving her some of her food. Some of the guys started calling her Bambi for those big brown eyes. She was smart as a whip too. She wanted to learn what we were doing,

I think just out of childlike curiosity, so we let her polish our empty shell casings. She was very proud of what she thought, A huge help to all of us guys. She liked me a lot. It was always right next to me. One day, sitting with her just behind me, I felt something hot, just ripping through my arm. I turned to look at my arm, and that's when I saw Bambi, on her back on the ground.

Her little hand was there in the mud, like it was reaching out for me. Her big brown eyes dimmed as I held her in my arms. You remind me a lot of her. Smart as a whip, always by my side. My girls. I'm sorry, I could only save one of you. I love you more than life itself. That's the first time I saw my father cry.

He got up and went into his tent, and just like he did every day of his life, pretended the nightmare wasn't real. I truly believe he wished he had just sat a little bit to the left and been there to block the bullet. He never forgave himself. The second time I saw my father cry was a year later. We were on a fishing trip at night on his boat.

We had our poles in the water. The lights of the town were reflecting off the water. It was beautiful. I was telling him something about a fight I had with my best friend. It was something petty about her asking my then-boyfriend out on a date. He said, friends should never be taken for granted, but be careful who you trust. Back in Vietnam, there was a little old lady who used to give me and my platoon sandwiches all the time. We thought she was such a sweet old lady.

We never knew where she was getting the meat for these sandwiches, but we never really asked. We figured it was dog or cat. Then we started noticing some weird marks on our fallen comrades and body bags before they were flown back home. A few of us followed her one day to the hut she was living in. We found out where she had gotten the sandwich meat from. I'll leave that story at that, and me seeing tears running down my dad's face. I'm pretty sure you can figure it out, and I don't need to go into more detail about what one of my dad's buddies did when he snapped. My young girl mind had no idea how to respond to that story,

and it was only as I got older that I realized two things about my dad. He was incredibly tortured by what he had seen and done. He lived in a world where he wore a mask of normality, and while he truly loved his kids, friends, and community, he lived in absolute distrust and terror of anyone and everyone. As I said, he never drank a drop of alcohol. He knew it would drop his mask and things would go very wrong. For example, he had to have knee surgery. He asked the nurse and doctors to please, to not give him any pain meds, not realizing they would have to as he came out of the surgery. Being completely out of it from the various medications, my dad stood up on his bed, screaming stuff, full-blown flashback stuff. He had two of the security guards and headlocks

and was going after security staff. It took his then-girlfriend and a few friends from the police station, called in for help. A good hour to talk him down as the meds left his system. That's the level of self-control he battled for every day of his life. Before he passed, he kept having nightmares of nuns with black eyes tormenting him, biting him, hating him, screaming at him all night. He was frightened. My dad was a good man that had terrible things happened to him that he carried to the grave.

So what I'm asking from you or anyone that now knows part of his pain, for his sake is just forgiveness. Would you, could you, or anyone that reads or hears this, please give a Catholic man's wounded, saddened, haunted soul for the things he did, taken to his grave in silence. He can't give his confession, so I will for him. Other than that, I don't think anyone else has. Thank you for your time possibly reading this.

I ask only that my email and last name be kept private. Barbie. Thank you, Barbie, for your dad's confession. And I really appreciate you sending that in. And we've had multiple war stories in these confession videos now. And every single time I read them, it just keeps proving that war is literal hell, as you said. Thank you so much for sharing that.

And I obviously forgive your father. and I'm sure everyone else watching will. Thank you so much for sharing. I hope you're doing all right now. Thank you for sending it in. And on to the next one. Hey, Snook, I've been listening to you ever since I started a job as a mail carrier. You really helped me with my boredom with that job.

Anyway, you can call me Nash. On to my confession. A few years ago, my friend and I were driving to the next date over to go to a comic book shop. We've been to this place so many times, but the way we get there is very weird. You had to drive on deep back roads in the middle of nowhere. I'm talking no signs of civilization for almost an hour, and zero cell service. Deep woods that went on for miles and the roads were very curvy.

Definitely roads that you'll need to drive under the speed limit on. We were on that road for about 30 minutes and there was a car in front of us. We weren't really paying attention to it. Just focusing on the drive and the music we had on. Then we both noticed the car in front of us is speeding up frantically. I remember saying, they're going a little too fast. And then the car drives straight into a concrete curb, and it flew into the air. Hit the ground and rolled.

It stopped when it rolled into a tree. I don't know why, but we didn't stop. We kept driving. We didn't say a word until we got to the comic book shop. We were asking ourselves if it was okay that we didn't stop. I assured them that it was okay and someone probably got them help. When we drove back home, we noticed the car was gone. No signs of a crash even happened.

No debris or anything. It was almost like we had imagined the crash. We never really spoke of it again. Haven't told anyone else except you. Anyway, that was my confession. What's your opinion? Thanks for reading. Thank you for the story, Nash.

And that's really, really weird. I really wonder why the car was gone, like completely gone. It sounded like a really, you know, insane crash flipping multiple times or flying through the air and there was no debris like there definitely would be debris so that's really crazy there's no debris no car but also you didn't stop who knows maybe you and your friend were hallucinating i don't know that's kind of a crazy thing to say but you know that's really weird and um i mean i'd recommend always stopping for people on the road i mean especially in a scenario like that help them out because uh they probably need it because yeah

Just help them out. If you ever see somebody, help them, be a good person. You know, it's always better to do that. But that's really weird. It's almost like paranormal in a way. Like, why was the car completely gone? I mean, it matters how long you read the comic book shop for, but still, that would take a long time to get a towing truck out,

cleaning it all up, et cetera. Really, really interesting and really weird, but interesting story. Thanks for sending it in. And on to the next one. Hey, Snook, first time mom here. I stumbled across your channel a few months into pregnancy and fell in love with it since. I like listening to your stories when I need to relax or get something done.

Keep up the good work. Sorry if I sound a little all over the place. I'm kind of just riding it off the top of my head and I have a lot on my mind. Also, sorry if it might be long, I just needed to vent it all out. I hope it reaches an audience who has been in this similar situation. Your advice is welcomed, but I mostly just need an outsider to listen. because I'm having a hard time talking to my close people about it. I, 21 female, you can call me K, have recently had a baby about a month ago.

Like I already mentioned before, this is my first time having a child and it's been a little stressful. Ever since having the baby, I've just been in this really dark mindset. It's been affecting me pretty badly and I'm sure everyone around me can say the same. There are moments where I just feel inadequate to be a mother due to my personal issue. a lot of my insecurities have resurfaced. I began to doubt myself mentally and emotionally and criticize myself physically for not meeting the unrealistic standards I set for myself.

Sadly, it's come down to not only thinking negatively about myself, but others around me as well, mostly my partner. I feel as if I'm silently putting a target on his back, unintentionally, of course. Pushing these feelings aside and building a brick wall between us. Myself, I can't do it,

I'm a terrible mother. I just need to lose a few more pounds. I don't know if I love the baby like I should. I just take care of the baby. Other than that, I'm useless. Him. He will always see me as his last option. He will change his mind about me eventually.

He must think less of me. He's not telling you everything. What's he hiding? Does he even want me or the baby? These are just a few examples of things that keep repeating in the back of my mind. I don't mean to. I'm trying to work on it. I'm not going to ask him to do better and prove to me he is good.

I'm just struggling to trust him and myself. It hurts me and I'm sure it hurts him because I want to trust him 100%. I mean, damn, I'm literally his best friend and the mother of his child. I'm just scared, especially since I don't have anyone I could really trust growing up or care for in a non-toxic way. I had a pretty rough upbringing that involved abuse and drugs. Not going to lie, this kind of influenced my thought pattern a bit because if I couldn't trust my own mother,

How was I supposed to love or trust anyone else? With this mindset, I made to believe he's going to fuck everything up, or I end up fucking things up letting these thoughts get to me, only to push him away even further than I am now. I'm sure he notices the changes in my behavior towards him. It's hard to hide it. I just get irritated and upset thinking about certain things that's been brought to my attention before.

Things bothering me. I'm a little upset because I've already been clear with him that I don't want any more kids. He does and it makes me sad because it feels as if I'm being forced to do something I don't want to do. It's like I don't get a choice in the matter. It's like he doesn't really realize or care. Not only does it fuck me up physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. I'm afraid to leave me if I refuse as that is one of the jokes he made.

I'm irritated because I should always be able to trust and love the good people in my life without constantly questioning everything and expecting the worst from them at all the time. There's always those what-ifs in the back of my mind that make me focus too much on them breaking my heart and not the good that they have always shows me. It irritates me when he asked for more, when I've literally been watching him this whole time with the baby to try and get him used to slash bond with the baby and not going to lie, I feel like it's not going well. I don't know. I could be wrong.

Maybe if I saw that father's spark I so desperately want to see from him, then maybe I would actually be 100% all in with having another one. instead of being obligated to do it. I get upset with some of the jokes he makes, like when he insults my intelligence. He makes me feel like I'm dumb and can't do anything right. I only begin to doubt myself more and criticize everything I say or do, afraid to say or do the wrong thing.

This could just be my sensitivity, but my emotions are already skyrocketing enough, so this isn't really helping. I try to laugh it off because I'm sure he doesn't mean it, but I still don't like it. I don't ask him to stop because it's a joke and wasn't meant to make me feel bad. I feel irritated at myself because I'm always so hard of myself

to be the ideal person I want to be. Whether it be my motherhood or my obsession with my appearance, I strive to be a good mother and do better than how I was raised, but it just feels like I'm doing it wrong, and I'm having trouble getting in touch with my loving mother's side. I'm not used to caring for things or people. It makes me sad that sometimes my dark thoughts don't let me view the baby as my own son or even a baby.

more like an alarm clock that keeps going off after you shut it off too many times. I'm trying. Physically, things could be better in my eyes. Although I basically went back to my small size after having the baby, I'm very picky with how I present myself. I used to have an eating disorder, puking or starving myself or overworking my body, constantly checking in the mirror,

ignoring my progress and only spotting out my flaws. Don't want to go back to those old habits because currently I'm struggling to love my new figure after what the baby has done to it. I feel irritated because I slowly feel myself loose touch of reality and not being able to keep up with taking care of myself or others anymore, yet I'm too stubborn to ask for my help. I mean, I literally shouldn't have to ask for the father of my child for a minute to myself, something to eat or a shower.

It should kind of be an offer, but then again, I'm not going to put too much on his plates and ask too much of him. He's stressed out enough with things, and I get cocked, to believe I can do it all on my own and not ask for anything. It basically takes the grandmother to step in just for the assistance because I know my stubborn ass isn't going to ask anyone for help. With the reality problem due to my mental health declining, I feel with what time I do sleep, the nightmares have stirred up again and so have the voices.

I don't know. Sometimes I hear random things or get distracted easily with my thoughts. It's been like this for so long as I can remember. Makes me feel crazy. I'm upset because I'm not sure how to voice this to someone without feeling like a burden. People have their own shit to worry about. My dark thoughts are not important, and I don't want to stress anyone else out with my problems,

so I shelter myself and build this wall up, feeling quiet and angry and out of focus all the time. These are the moments when I really need someone, but instead I never speak up and stay to myself, pushing everyone away. Don't give me wrong. Just because I made these statements does not mean I don't have a wonderful partner and family. I am truly grateful for him and with how far he's pulled me out of my shit show. I don't know where or who I'd be without him and his family.

Also, he and I both have a pretty dark sense of humor, hence the jokes he makes, and we have little moments of disagreement, but other than that, we never argue and have very open with a lot of things. Didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression of him or anyone. I just need to let it out. This isn't about him, though. It mostly has to do with me and my insecurities and current personal challenges. I vowed to continue to work through them for a more positive outcome.

hopefully with my loved ones by my side cheering me on and supporting me through love and understanding. Thank you for your time, Kay. Thank you for your submission and email, okay? And in all honesty, my thoughts are just, I think you should, you know, maybe get a therapist, get some professional help, maybe some sort of, you know, postpartum specialist maybe. I'm sure that probably exists. And they could definitely help you out, I'm sure, with, um, you know, eating disorder, lacking the feeling of adequacy or just the feeling of inadequacy,

and just any sort of relationship problems or family problems. And I think that's your best move. Therapy is expensive, but I'm sure there's so many online programs now that are a great deal. And I think you should just do something like that. Talk to someone professional, kind of lay this onto them, and I think you get some awesome help. You're going to be a great mother. I already know it. Keep it up and much love. And thank you so much for sending this in. On to the next one. Hi, Snook. While listening to your confessions video, I thought of one I would,

just like to get off my chest that I've never shared with many people. My story also involves mental health, so trigger warning if you're not very comfortable with this topic. Also, Snook, feel free to edit out some parts that may be a little too graphic. Also, I love your channel, I've been watching since late last year, probably while I'm drawing as I'm making a comic or just playing like Minecraft or something. It's honestly just pretty chill. Anyways, here's my confession. Keep in mind, it's pretty long, and please call me Crow. This takes place late 2023 and around early 2024.

I am also going off my memory as all the texts are gone. Around the fall of 2023, me and my family moved around half across the country. It was, well, a rough time would be an under- statement. I always had issues with my family and my childhood, so moving and going away from the city I lived in for legitimately all my life, I was off and on depressed for most of my life, only getting diagnosed with general anxiety and then MDD, major depression disorder early 2024 when I went to a psychiatrist, or better referred to as an inpatient. This is important later. Anyways to Cope, I made a YouTube channel, where I would post my art and some edits of shows I liked. Sure, they weren't

very good, but there were something that helped me. I wasn't very popular either, nearly only get into a few hundred subscribers. Well, through that channel, I made another person, and we became online best friends. Yes, maybe not very smart of me, but cut me some slack. I was heavily not in a good mental state. For privacy reasons, of course, I will be changing their name as everyone. I also don't remember what pronouns they used as last I thought they might have been transgender, but I really don't know. So they slash them it is. We'll call them Dragon since we both love Dragons.

Well, me and Dragon were really close. The both of us became best friends online. We later exchanged phone numbers, contacting over WhatsApp. Ever since my childhood, I've had trust issues and toxic behaviors, such as being possessive and isolating people that got close to me because I've had those issues. I've since been a lot better since then. Well, me and Dragon would be talking, you know, like the usual shit, just talking, gossiping, calling every few times randomly. Well, on WhatsApp, you can see when people were last online if they put that setting on anyways.

Also, to note that Dragon lived on the other side of the world in Europe, so it would be difficult to communicate that we would just do it off and on. Dragon was around my age. We FaceTime sometimes, and no, they were not some 40-year-old man from Ohio or whatever the fuck y'all think? Well, here's the first toxic trait I started to do. I would start feeling angry whenever I saw they were last online and didn't text me. I would get upset and lash out at them. Also, she had a YouTube channel where she also did art of characters from the fandom we were in, and she had a few thousand subscribers. Being that I only had a few hundred, I used that to my advantage. I'd beg her to mention me a lot and just credit for me for stuff. One day I went too far, and her

friendship was on thin ice, like always. Now, we are late December 23, and I was very, very S-word. I always kind of was since my early childhood, so I would use that against them, saying how I will. Not exactly saying being the usual one you're thinking of, but I was more so wanting the confirmation and attention from her more so, but I was actually wanted to do it either way. I also did that night on Christmas, but I didn't later early 2024, January. I was admitted to the ER. Middle of the night, I was going to do it, but then I was admitted to go to the psych ward.

Me and my mom left the ER early that morning to go to it. I packed the limited items I could bring and took my phone with me for the drive. I contacted dragging, telling them what had happened. I wanted sympathy, and I got it. I used it to my advantage. I know I did, and I'm not proud of it. I made them worry. Up to this point, I was mentally unstable and not right in the head,

but this psych ward I stayed in for a little over. 10 days. It was a pretty shitty place. I'd say it fucked me up in the head even more. Well, then I got discharged and sent home. I got back in contact with Dragon and for a little while, everything was fine, but then I snapped again, sending our friendship downhill. I would say I guilt-trip them into starting over, saying how I just came myself and how I was so sorry that I was, but again I used her sympathy to my advantage. But the damage was already done. Then a week later, I snapped again, was it i swore at them so much in all caps probably screaming over text you could say and then finally they blocked me i was broken i lashed out of everyone i started seeing her in the corners when she wasn't for a time

that i was even more fucked up than they had i would stock their youtube channel being the only source of content we had now not exactly contact though i would constantly comment on their channel then getting us well mostly me arguing in their comments saying how they're a heartless bitch and shouldn't have done that. At one point, I even made a copy of their channel with another account, then reposting their videos, and going on my main account and acting all innocent. They knew it was me at some point. And I reported her, well, I don't know. I think because I was mad or something. Keep that I was in mind for later. So I would go around to them, fans' channel, pretending to be them, and then getting her fans all pissed so they would harass them. Not cool, grow. Not cool.

Well, at some point, I tried getting in contact with them. I made a fake story to my family, saying how they were the problem. And I was the one being harassed since they were wondering why and my family knew about her friendship. I was so, so mentally unstable. So I used their phone number on my mom's phone and contacted them, trying to guilt trip them again. But of course they were smarter than me to let them back into their life. I was being very toxic to them. I know that, but not then. Eventually I went into long-term mental health care, then getting released over four months of heavy, heavy progress on my mental health. I then went into daytime care for mental health, where I stayed in a place with my mom for about six weeks. At this point, I deleted WhatsApp,

no longer having a use for it since I had no contacts on it. Out of curiosity, I installed it again, seeing that Dragon had texted me. I opened the message reading it, how they said that I needed to stop commenting on their channel and to leave them alone. Keep in mind this was about two weeks in. I snapped again, hidden emotions that hadn't faced or ever really realized were ever there. I started texting them a random rage of messages, not even taking accountability for shit, and eventually I settled down slightly. Fine. Do you really want to know what happened? I texted them. Yeah, but don't be all rude again. Dragon texted me something along the lines of that.

Then I explained everything, finally admitting that I was toxic how I was being a bitch and everything. I never admitted to making another account of mimicking their channel, and after that, I sent them a short apology after a few longer messages between us, how they are also missing me sometimes, but just ignoring those because they knew what I had done, and I had been a dick to them. We just sort of went our separate ways after that. I deleted their contact, after I was cleaning my storage of my phone. I knew it for the best, and we both needed to move on.

Every so often I would check up on their channel to see how they were doing, and eventually saw that their channel was gone. I looked around seeing that it had been deleted. It might have been because of me, because of my stupid choice. I just had to report them and ranting to YouTube support. All of that just gone from them. While this was almost a year ago, and I met them almost two years ago, I got over the main guilt therapist and talking always helped.

But there's a little bit of me that will always feel guilty, no matter what. Sometimes I miss what could have been, the friendship I wasted, the time of theirs I had wasted, but we all learn somehow, and for both of us, I think we both have moved on. They were, and still are, I bet a great person. Better than I could have ever deserved. I don't want pity or anything, that's not the point of why I'm writing this, it's just to share my story.

I know I heard her in one way or another. I know I was extremely toxic and rude to her. Accountability is important. Admitting you're wrong, even when you do. don't even want that to be reality. I have so many people in my life that are extreme narcissists, my dad, and my older brother. But if I can help anyone, or just spread my experience, know that mental health is not a weakness. Your feelings have, are, and always will be valid. Get help, reach out, even if you're just over the phone like I did to the S-word hotline. If you do share my experience

snook in a video, then thank you. Everyone, stay awesome. Crow. Hi, Snook. First off, I just want to say I love your videos. I know you probably hear that a lot, but I'm a fairly new subscriber and I've really enjoyed having your content on in the background while I go up on my day. Secondly, I'd like to stay anonymous for this. I was watching one of your confession videos when a story about someone who struggled with compulsive line came up and it pushed me to share something I've never told anyone. My confession is that I have a bad habit of stealing. It started small, things like candy bars or snacks from the grocery store where I work, just stuff I'd take on my break without pain.

Over time, it escalated to things I needed at home. Champo, groceries, little necessities. I'd sneak them out of my hat during winter or hide them in my jacket on the way to my car. Eventually, I started stealing from other stores too, Walmart, smaller grocery shops, and things only got worse. I was caught once at Walmart with almost $200 worth of items hidden in my reusable bags. They made me pay for everything,

which devastated me financially. Since then, my hours at work have been cut, and I'm struggling to cover my bills. I've picked up a second job, but it's not enough. Despite everything, I still feel the urge to steal, especially from Walmart, and I've given in more times than I want to admit. I'm terrified of getting arrested, but I can't seem to stop.

The guilt afterward is overwhelming. I know what's wrong. I know I need help. I'm just scared of how people would react if they knew. I really just needed to get this off my chest. I don't know what my next step is, but I truly want to change and get better. Thank you for listening and for what you do. Sincerely, a fairly new fan.

Thank you for sharing this. I hope I can give you some maybe guidance or something like that. I might give you the same guidance I gave to the compulsive liar, since I mean, that's kind of what inspired you to share this. But take it a day at a time. Just every time you enter a store to go shopping, just tell yourself, I won't steal today. I won't do it.

I won't give me to the urge. Just don't. And it's not worth getting arrested for. Don't steal. It's morally wrong. It's not a good thing. thing to do and it will only bite you in the ass. It will only be bad and you're lucky that that one time they didn't arrest you. I mean, they made you pay and it like you said, it devastated you

financially, but that's way better than going to jail and getting arrested because if you keep this up, you will go to jail, most likely. Statistically speaking, you will get caught. Most people who keep that up eventually get caught. And so just take it a day at a time. Please stop. It will only lead to your downfall and getting arrested or find or something horrible like that. And I would just hate to see you in that position. So I really hope that you can take it a day at a time and break this bad habit. I believe in you and everyone else believes in you. You got this.

Hi, a snook. Did you know a snook is a fish or apparently some kind of hand gesture? Sorry, I'm a bit nervous to say my confession, but I need to confess my crime, so to say. Sigh, here goes nothing. So in fifth grade, it was the end of the school year and we had one last math test to do. I was horrendous at math, like F's all year long bad at math. But at the end of the year, me and the table of boys I sat with, I'm a girl or was a girl, I'm a woman now, but you get what I mean.

We're just exhausted with the whole school thing and couldn't wait for fifth grade graduation and summer break. So when our last math test came around and me and my table full of boy cohorts decided we were going to cheat on the last math test. I can't tell you how we got away with this because our table of four was in front of or diagonal from our teacher. Let's call her Mrs. Hall. So me, Eric, not his real name, Derek, also not his real name, and Merrick, again and Elias, we blatantly cheated on this test. Like, we were pretty obvious with it. So much the entire class knew we were cheating. At one point, we thought we had gotten caught and was just waiting to get in trouble for cheating,

but lunchtime came. Mrs. Hall took us down for lunch and said nothing to us. Since it was raining that day, after lunch we came back upstairs for recess and Mrs. Hall was grading the last math test while we were playing. Eric, Derek, and I were talking and really wondering if Mrs. Hall was going to say something because everyone knew we had cheated on that test. Finally, Mrs. Hall calls me over to her desk and everyone turns to look at me like, uh-oh, I should know right there. I was always the quiet one in class. I never made waves or got in trouble, so when Mrs. Hall called me over to her desk, the guy swore I was going to tell on everyone to save myself, but I reassured them that I got this. And boldly went over to Mrs. Hall desk, and I asked sweetly, yes, Mrs. Hall? And she said to me, do you know you got a 100 on this test? I pretend to be surprised in saying in a normal tone, I had no idea. She then asked, what did you do differently? I tell her that I study really hard, and I pretend to be surprised in a normal tone. I had no idea. She then asked, what did you do differently? I tell her that I study really hard, and I tell her, and she said it paid off, and she congratulated me, then sent me back to play with the other kids.

I told them everything was cool and didn't think about it past that. End of story, right? Nope. Fast forward a week or so later, and it's the day of fifth grade graduation, and we're all in the auditorium going through the whole graduation thing, and we get to the awards part of the graduation, and they are handing down an award for most improved in spelling,

reading, and finally most improved in math. To my utter shock, I got called up for this award, which included a $50 savings bond. Eric, Derek, and Merrick nearly died laughing. I was shocked, amused, slightly horrified, and several kids were mad, but thankfully, they didn't say anything about my blatant cheating. A thousand years, this happened in the 80s,

and two lifetimes later, I still had that savings bond. I know it's tainted and refused to do anything with it. Not a sad confession, but I just wanted to share. Love the videos, and thanks for letting me share. A story about how I'm not. I bullied a guy so badly that he gave up his passion for writing poetry. This happened over 10 years ago. I had just moved to a new country and was struggling to adjust to a different school and culture. I had a few gaming friends, a buddy from my old country, and one girl who ended up becoming my best friend.

By the time I turned 15, I realized I had feelings for her, but being obese and autistic, I kept those feelings hidden. I was terrified of how she'd react if I told her. Eventually, she's started dating another guy, the one I ended up bullying. He was that guy, tall, good-looking, straight-A student, athletic, artistic. He wrote poems, played instruments, and was liked by literally everyone. I hated how confident he was, but I never tried to sabotage their relationship. In fact, I sometimes helped them patch things up when they had issues. I figured destroying them would only make him miserable, and I didn't want that. Then one day I was playing Dota with a friend. We were losing and one of the enemy players was dominating.

Then I saw his username and I instantly recognized it. It was him. He used the same nickname across all platforms. I told my buddy and we locked in. My friend didn't hate him, but he knew I did, so he backed me up. Classic teenage rage moment. When we started winning, I realized he probably had no clue who I was that on an amenity gave me power.

I started trash talking. First, just criticizing his gameplay. But then I went personal. I mocked his poetry. I tried to cut deep, and it worked. A while later, I noticed he had taken down the links to his poems. At the time, I assumed it was just to protect his work from trolls like me. Months passed, and I learned I'd be moving back to my home country for good.

Before I left, I decided to come clean to my best friend. I told her everything, my feelings, the comments, the game. I expected confusion, but instead she wouldn't pale and asked, So it was you. Turns out she already knew. The night of that match, he came to her crying after that, he never wrote another poem again. The twist?

She started calling him by his in-game character's name after that. Not his real name, not my boyfriend, just the name from that match. So it was surreal. And the worst part is, I don't feel guilty. When I tell this story, people ask if I regret it. I always say I was a messed up kid dealing with hormones and identity issues. but deep down, I don't think I'd do anything different. Sometimes I even wish I had been meaner.

Maybe it's because he was kind of an ass months later. Maybe I just hated his poetry. Maybe I had more to say and didn't say it. But yeah, this is how the story of how I ended someone's creative spark and still don't really feel bad about it. Hey, Snook, I hope you're doing okay. This isn't as good as other confessions, but it hurts to keep inside. I've been homeschooled most of my life.

I went to a private school in like second and third grade and a charter school for seventh grade. This story is something that happened at the charter school. When I was 13, we were living with my grandparents. It was absolute hell. I was in a really bad place mentally, but my parents ended up sending me to a charter school since they didn't have enough time for homeschooling. I was placed in seventh grade since I sucked at math. I was a straight A student.

Math was just a bit harder for me. I was smarter than the rest of the kids. Not by too much, just enough. that I was asked to help everyone with work. I felt above them at times, but it just ended up with me spiraling and hurting myself. There was this girl in my class. I'll call her Martha. Martha is a special ed kid. She had a couple mental disabilities, but I still tried to help her. I shouldn't have. During the second quarter, she stopped acting as normal to me. She started talking about forcing my friends and I to marry her. She would call me daddy, moaned my name and call me

her freaky little bumblebee. It scared me. Teachers got me to try and tell them when Martha did weird shit to me. A specific time, she was sat behind me in history. She whispered stuff about everything being my fault, that I was going to die, that everything bad that had happened to her was my fault. I'm also queer, and she would constantly spout shit about killing all gay people or sending us all to jail. It shouldn't have affected me as much as it did, but it was happening every single. day. The part I actually feel bad about is she gave me gifts. She found out shit about me and gave me stuffed animals and figures at one point, but literally the next week I was advised not to talk to her, so I did, and she tried to use the gifts against me, but I kept them. She was mentally ill,

and I feel that I took advantage of her. I know it's dumb, but it still makes me feel bad. I wrote her number on a playground and I signed her up for spam calls once I left. My family says she deserved it, but I don't know at this point. Have a nice day, Snook. Don't explode. Hey there, Snook, I really appreciate this series and your level-headed approach to these confessions. This confession technically is all over and done with. The person I hurt said she forgives me. It's been seven years, but I still feel incredibly guilty about it. So to sum it up, I wasn't a good friend of this person. Let's call her E. And I first met in middle school. She and I were both not really well-liked, if that makes sense. She was quiet, and so was I. We both bonded over our interests. No one at school

really liked what we liked, and we shared at lunch period. Soon the next year, we had more classes. That was when it started. I texted her more often than usual, especially when she didn't text back. It bothered me, but I could move past it. Sometimes E would find other interests and not talk to me as much in online forums. That started to get to me. I know it's easy to say that I could find other friends, but that's the thing. I didn't like or trust the other kids at school. I've been there my whole life until graduation. Everyone knew who I was. They knew of the meltdowns I had in third grade. E didn't go to the same elementary school as me. My town had two elementary schools or some reason. Maybe too many students? I don't know. When E. started talking to the other kids, it felt like I

betrayal. It wasn't but 13-year-old me was so, so convinced that she was leaving me behind. I lashed out at her. We had parent-teacher. meetings about my behavior, she even told me her mom started to dislike me. The thing was just a few years before. I was in a place where I felt unwanted. I lived with my aunt and the rest of my immediate family. It was awful. I won't go into too much detail, nor will I excuse the way I treated E, but let's just say my abandonment issues started there and following me even now. Back to E. She started going to school less and less, and at high school she dropped out entirely. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was me, but since she dropped out, I just stopped talking to her. We texted online every now and again,

but that was it. Halfway through my high school years, she told me that I've changed a lot since then. She told me her mom liked me again, and as her mom saw me and said, hey, it's Anon. Last time I saw Ian in person was high school orientation. We were supposed to meet after the graduation ceremony, but I didn't look for her. One, because my uncle showed up and patted my shoulder signaling me to go to my mom, and I kind of just went with him. but also because I just didn't want to face her. As I've said before, E has forgiven me, but I haven't forgiven myself. I moved from Texas to Oklahoma after I graduated, so visiting is out of the question.

But we still talk to this day, but not as much. Since then, I just don't trust myself making friends. It's stupid. You could chalk it up to petty middle school drama, but I feel like I owe anyone who thinks highly of me this confession. I wish I could forgive myself. Thank you for reading this if you did. sorry it's a bit scattered. And thank you so much for submitting your story.

I really appreciate it. And I think you should forgive yourself. It was just some petty middle school drama, like you said. Just some small town stuff or just some small stuff, in my opinion. I understand you feel bad for lashing out of her, but, you know, I think you should really forgive yourself. I mean, it's been a long, long time. I think it's time to move on. And I think you can do that if you maybe talk to her more, talk to her how you feel.

and her mom and stuff like that and just say how you feel sorry and how you still feel bad and I think it would just be best if you talk to her yeah that's what I think would be best thank you so much for sending it in and that wraps up some unsettling anonymous confessions I really appreciate you guys sending in so many confessions I get so many confessions and submissions so it's hard to you know get them all in one video so I'm going to be doing a lot of more of these videos if you guys keep watching them and keep sending them in, please send it the email provided in the description. Thank you so much for watching.

I appreciate you all. You guys are the best. And this was Snook, and I'll see you next time. Bye.