Snook - Unsettling Confession Threads

Episode Date: March 6, 2026

From a horrific story of infidelity that lead to something truly harrowing, to a reddit user who confessed to committing a war crime... these are some Unsettling Confession Threads. These stories are truly some of the most depressing and shocking stories I've ever read, I hope every OP and emailer in this video is doing better now. Would you like to see me make similar videos in the future? Leave your thoughts down below in the comment section, and make sure to like and subscribe!Send a confession to be read! [e-mail] the Patreon! ⁠https://www.patreon.com/SnookYT⁠Follow me on instagram and Spotify!If your story or post was included in today's video and you wish for it to be taken down, please reach out to this email. [e-mail] And yes, I'm a human voice.NEXT SUB GOAL - 1,000,000 subscribers! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to the channel. And today we're getting into some unsettling confession threads where I read some of your guys' confessions and some confessions from Reddit. So it's a wild, wild mix. And today we're going into some shocking, scary and disturbing confessions. So you want to stick around. And I appreciate you stopping by means the world. Please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps more than you know.

And if you'd like to have your confession read in a future video, please send it to the email on. screen now. Thank you. In this video, it will be long enough already, so without further ado, let's get into some unsettling confession threads. I cheated on my husband and ruined his and his family's life. I can't believe what is happening around me. It feels like my world is falling apart. I know I may seem sociopathic because I am composed, but I think I'm in too much shock to be emotional. My husband struggled with depression in his teen years before I met him. From the ages of 15 to 18, I was told by him that he S-H-daily and attempted S-word. He said he eventually had to leave his house because his father thought he was faking it and just needed

exercise or go outside. When we met at 22, it was love at first sight. He was handsome, tall, amazingly charming and made me feel amazing. He was super intelligent and driven as well, which made me infatuated with him. I feel sick typing this out. When we are 24, I convinced him to mend his relationship with his father. He was at our wedding two years later and was a father figure to me as well. I don't know how to say the rest of the post. I've been calm up until now, but I'm shaking now. I cheated. My husband was working overtime to afford us a vacation. I was at a girl's night out. He was so handsome and masculine and confident. I guess with my alcohol, light drinker. I just forgot about my husband. I went to his place and we did it. It was amazing, better than

anything my husband ever did. I fell in love. I knew my husband was the love of my life, but this guy satisfied me like he never could. I feel fucking awful and sick and disgusted with myself, just typing this out. The next morning, my husband saw our text on my bedside table. He snooped my phone and found our plans to meet up again. Being honest, I probably wasn't going to meet up with them again, but I just loved the thought of it. My husband committed S-word three days later. A fucking extension cord in the garage.

The cord snapped at some point, but he was long gone. Necks snapped on the coal pavement. A fucking pull-up bar and an extension cord took him away from me. It gets so much fucking worse. I told his father it was from his depression as a teen. Not that I had cheated on him. He left a note describing in detail how cheating was his biggest fear. And he found his demons coming back to him and didn't want to live depressed anymore.

He wrote, I love you at the end. And that was it. I told his dad it was all depression from his teens. His dad committed S word that night. This sounds fake. This sounds like something. some fake eighth grade story, I feel fucking ill. I feel empty.

His dad didn't leave anything. He must have thought it was from him not being supportive. I'm feeling S word. I want to leave this world. I made the biggest mistake of my entire life and this is how I pay for it. I am so scared of dying, but I feel I have to. I have the person I was with that night coming over soon, just to take care of me. He's going to make sure I don't commit S-word.

So don't bother trying to help me in the comments. I don't know how to say this, but I feel I don't deserve that hate that's about to come my way. I know I fucked up, but my husband and my father figure just died. And it's all my fault. Please cut me some slack. I just want someone to know it's my fault. Maybe one day, I can forgive myself. And the OP has never made an update since then,

and that was downright one of the most disturbing confessions I have ever read on Reddit. I may have committed a war crime. Firstly, I am now a normally functioning adult, studying engineering and doing normal stuff like partying, slash drinking in weekends and keeping a steady job. I am from a European country, and English is not my main language, so I apologize if this is difficult to read or some words are slightly mistranslated.

In my early life, I had some rage issues, but they were gone when I hit the late teenage years. At least I thought they were. I enlisted after my country's equivalent of high school, in the army, and received training as a mechanized infantry sergeant. The squad I deployed with consisted of six privates and one corporal under my command. I was damn good at both being a soldier and a squad leader. I handled stress and combat well up until the very end of my deployment. My company handled a mix of combat ops and civilian military cooperation ops.

During my tour, one of my squadies got killed by a. an IED and I blamed myself for it. It sucked to me day and night that there might be something I could have done. There wasn't. I was angry. More angry than I had ever been before, but life in deployment carried on and I hid the anger deep inside me. The entire squad was now more on edge and actually performed better than before.

Any kind of lax behavior was gone, but the squad was also on edge. We received a series of what we ended up calling combat casuals to replace the missing member. These replacements were mostly what the U.S. Marines call POGs, people other than grunts, support personnel or mortar squatties that wanted to see what it was like outside the walls. These guys were, for the most part, okay on patrols, but not trained extensively in the more complex combat scenarios and types. The second to last month of deployment, we initiated a large-scale effort to clear out insurgents and retake key strategic areas. This meant a lot of urban combat. Urban combat is volatile and can turn sour very fast if discipline slips.

My company is clearing houses, medium resistance and suffering injuries, all expected, and no casualties so far. Keep in mind we still have a replacement in our squad. We trained rigorously for this ops, and he kept things very well together, clearing rooms and houses with us. He goes as the first man into a new room, nothing of note, until he hears a wait in our native language from the room. This stops him dead in his tracks, which bunches up my gunner and me behind him in the doorway. The insurgent opens fire And both our support in my gunner goes down I don't remember much of what can only have been a minute in real time

I open fire on him and he goes down Except he did not die immediately I guess he was pretty juiced up on something So he is lying on the floor bleeding And I guess I must have kicked his gun away or something Because he doesn't move his arms But only lies there muttering Please don't kill me

and his name over and over again, again in my native language. This makes me snap. All the rage comes up and I end up punching him, kicking him, hitting him with my helmet, and finally empty my sidearm magazine into him. This was a massive overkill. I could have just executed him cleanly, but instead I did what in a regular back-home setting would be a brutal murder. The aftermath consisted of me dragging my two wounded privates out of the room, getting the rest of my squad to evacuate them.

I had to stand in the doorway to make sure no one got into the room to see the mess there we left. Only my platoon commander saw the room. I ended up dropping a grenade in the room and making the house as booby-trapped rather than try to explain it to anyone. After operation was concluded, my tour was over and the only thing I ever heard, of the episode was my platoon commander patting me on the back when we were getting on the flight home and saying you should probably talk to someone when we get back home i have never told anyone about this i highly doubt i will ever talk about it again so this is my dirty secret that no one knew and now reddit knows and now let's get into some of the top comments on this someone says

You didn't commit a war crime. You did not storm a house full of women and children and kill them all. What you did was have a high-stress-induced reaction to combat in the behavior of a combatant. You are not a bad person. However, I think finding a safe way to talk about this with a professional is important because this is the kind of thing that could give you problems later if not addressed. And then someone replies to that saying, Actually, he was in breach of the Geneva Convention, which means it was a war crime,

whether it was an understandable breach or not. Professional soldiers are expected to hold themselves to a higher count than guerrilla fighters and terrorists. And then the OP actually responded to this saying, to be honest, insurgents are not covered by the Geneva Convention in very strict terms, since they are not representing a regular armed force. But I agree with your sentiment.

We uphold the Geneva Conventions and apply them to the insurgents to prove that we are the bigger man in this conflict. Not bigger as in stronger, but the more responsible and mature. And then the OP makes an update a few days later saying, My life is in shambles. I'm torn between regretting the previous post and at least being getting this out of my system before I could do even more permanent damage. Since writing my Reddit confession, I have had to face my greatest fear.

Contact from a military official that I was to be called in for a hearing. I felt sick, angry, and confused. I didn't sleep for days. Had to postpone my thesis, had to ask for leave in my job, since I could hardly think straight. This period damaged my relationship with my girlfriend

and my family. I was hostile and turned my attention inward. Thinking back, this only made me dig myself further into the hole. I was brought in due to a national security investigation about radicalized citizens who went to Middle Eastern training camps to become holy warriors. I was asked a ton of questions about my deployment ranging from the mildly accusatory to details about ops, which I could not disclose. Apparently, my old CEO had been forced by hire-ups to spill the beans about our ops and the incident I had, and I was presented with both written and direct proof. An intelligence officer handed me the folder of the declassification of the ops for this

particular investigation. I cooperated and spoke openly about what had occurred during my experience. They warned me that what I had done could, as I knew, technically be a war crime, albeit a lesser one. But at the same time assured me that I would not be tried for the event. The investigators presented me with pictures of this kid's family and a few details about their life in the hopes that I could maybe identify the insurgent slash kid. This kid had been a perfectly normal guy. He had enjoyed sports. especially basketball.

He had had a girlfriend but had been forced to break things with her by her parents. From here, a rather disquieting process of radicalization had occurred and he had traveled to Pakistan for training. After the hearing, I contacted a military psych and finally agreed to start sessions to process this problem. I appreciate the advice from the last thread. Finally, the calls for me to contact someone and talk about it have been answered. If you consider going military, do what you can to avoid being put in a situation like I was in.

The camaraderie is fantastic and in general the military life is pretty good. But do not try to convince yourself that the experiences won't come back and bite you in the ass. It sure did for me. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says the problem is that there's no way to avoid a situation like this if you are a grunt. And now it's a minor war crime because you killed him too much when he was trying to take your life as well? I think how they treated you was a slap in the face to your service

and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I hope you have a full recovery from this and get your life back. And then someone replies to that saying, not that he killed the guy too much, but that he punched and kicked an incapacitated man after he was completely unable to fight. That gets dodgily close to torture. A bullet carefully placed to kill him would have been more humane, but it's all sort of a great area,

because he already must have been in incredible pain, and he didn't suffer for particularly much longer because of O.P.'s rage. I can't imagine dying like that, but I think it was kinder than leaving him there to bleed out and die like he would have been. I murdered someone. This happened a good number of years ago. At the time, I was a pretty high-up drug dealer, moving a good number of ounces of H, crystal, and booger sugar. I wasn't El Chapo, but I had power, money, and respect. I had a girlfriend for a few years. She ended up getting pregnant, and a couple months after my first child was born, she left me.

I was destroyed. At the time, I had a mental disorder that made this breakup unbearable, and I was a mental wreck and my anger was at an all-time high. There were groups of days where I'd be fine and not even feel the need to text her, but then there were times when I was so fucking angry because she left me.

How could she leave me when I did so much for her? My anger would become uncontrollable, and when you have the drug dealer mentality, it can get scary. I never laid a hand on that woman, but I found out she was hanging out with someone who was supposed to be, be a good friend of mine and they started dating. I still remember the exact feeling of seeing a

picture of my ex, my good friend, and my child altogether. I destroyed my entire house in a blacked outrage and basically went off the deep end. The anger was uncontrollable. Something evil happened inside me and I had to do it. One night I decided to throw a party at a venue in town and invited said friend so I could talk to him. He was very hesitant at first, but I told him I wanted to just make mens and we could all get along. He came through when he sat down and talked. I acted real good to him, and I had him fooled that everything was okay. I asked him if he wanted to go out back and do some great booger sugar, and he agrees. What he didn't know was that this wasn't just booger sugar. It was a 50-50 cut of booger sugar and fent. He fell out,

almost instantly after doing a decent-sized line. We were in a pretty discreet location, so I took about seven minutes before I went inside and yelled for someone to call 911. By the time the ambulance got there, he was dead. I put the bag of booger sugar in his pocket before coming back inside and getting the ambulance. I told the police that he asked if I wanted to go out to the backyard

and do booger sugar, and I agreed. He did the first line and fell out, and that's all I knew. I didn't know what happened. Nobody ever thought anything of it to pass that and I was never hassled after that about the situation. End of story. In one of the top comments on this post,

someone says, hand yourself in, and the OP gives a cold no. Very disturbing. Stole over a million from an employer and was rewarded for it. I posted this elsewhere, but I thought you would enjoy it here. If you've read it before, I hope you enjoy it again.

Disclaimer. The names and some of the situations have been changed to protect the identities, mostly my own, but the dollars and general nature of the situation is completely true. Some background. A year out of school in the early 1990s, I procured a job as a business analyst for a large, family-owned tech, company. This business was located in the booming heart of technology at the time and was very profitable. As tech took off over the next decade, the company thrived and remained family owned.

What was a rich family, and company became exceedingly wealthy with a valuation slash net worth in the high nine slash low 10 figures. The family that owned it was quite neurotic, very moody, and had a reputation as very ruthless, greedy when it came to financing, deal-making, employees, etc. I truly believe this is what held them back from ultimately becoming a household name as a company. As I progressed in the company, I gained more and more face time with the owners. I worked on some projects directly with the ownership that really paid off and gained me even greater access to their inner circle. Now, like a lot of people at the time, and particularly those who worked in tech, I was heavily invested in tech stocks. I discussed some of my investments and gains with ownership as casual conversation, though investing had nothing to do with my role in the company.

That is, until one day, in late 1999, when the company came to me and asked me if I would invest some of my personal money. He wanted me to take big risks to see if they would pay off using $1 million of his personal money. I was a bit hesitant, but still being in my late 20s and wanting to prove myself, I said I would. I asked for a written agreement where they acknowledged this wasn't my role in the company was a personal matter between the owner and me, and to document my compensation for this side arrangement, 20% of all profits. Around this time and by working in the industry, I started to notice the weakness associated with a lot of tech companies. They just weren't living up to their hype and stock price and some seemed like they were starting to run out of money. I had no inside information, just a strong sense of which companies were struggling based on my work in the business.

Based on this sense, I started using both my money and the owner's money to short tech companies just after the new year in terms. 2000. For anyone unfamiliar with shorting, it means if the value of a stock decreases, the value of the investment increases. I had a few long positions, but my overall position was very short. Since the owner wanted big risk and big reward, I used his money and obtained leverage or margin from the financial institution where I managed both his and my trading accounts. The accounts are separate, but both under my name, again, I documented this and gained consent. Well, both my account and his suffered some moderate losses in the first two months of 2000 before the bubble began to burst in both accounts, but his and particular began to skyrocket.

Ownerships petting this. In June, the company began to suffer a downturn. We were so profitable, but since we provided tech services and products, we were not immune to weakness in the broader market. I had not informed him of the owner of my short strategy. He came to me one day and asked how his money was doing, saying he suspected it was way down like the general market. To his surprise, I informed him that while we still had some money tied up in options,

puts and shorts, but based on the positions I had closed, there was $1.35 million in cash sitting in the account that belonged to him. Again, I still had a bunch of open, positions which, if memory serves, were worth about a million on that date. But the positions I had closed had yielded $1.35 million in cash just sitting in his account, which was in my name. The owner, either through ignorance or lack of attention, said, great, $1.35 million. Fantastic work in this down market. Will you please wire it to me? I responded that I would, but would be taking my 20% of the $350,000 profit,

or $70,000, before wiring him the $280,000. I also reminded him, I still had open positions that had yet to pay off or close, but I didn't state the amount. He, once again, appeared not to understand or comprehend the open position statement, but instead totally focused on and became interested about my rightful claim for $70,000. He went on and on about how times were tough. I should be grateful for a job, particularly at my young age, and the entire $350,000 was necessary for him and the company. I knew this wasn't true based on my position within the company.

Worse, this was my first time personally experiencing the greedy and corrupt nature that served as the basis for ownership's reputation. The Revenge Now comes the Revenge. Since after two separate conversations, the owner did. didn't seem to grasp that the open positions would yield at least some income and thus additional profit, I decided not to mention it again. I sent him back the entire $1.35 million and continued to manage the open positions to the best of my ability.

And here's the kicker. The owner never brought it up again. He seemed to think the $1.35 million payment was the entire value of the account and never understood or remembered that open positions still existed. He never asked for records, tax documents, or any time or audit of financials. Given the fact that he was dishonest with me, I didn't feel the need to disabuse him of that notion. Ultimately, after a bit more net gain, I covered all of the shorts and exercised all of the options, puts in this case, for an additional $1.8 million.

I worked for the company for three more years, and the owner never asked about it during my tenure, after I gave notice or cents. I know it's a bit crass and even shady AF, but given his dishonesty with me over the $70,000, I felt justified in keeping the additional $1.8 million. I paid taxes on the gain, long-term capital gain, and went on my way. with a fantastic nest egg. Nobody has asked about it since, and I've only told the story to a few people,

and even then, only after the Statue of Limitations passed. The final ironic cherry on top of this Sunday is that during my remaining three years, I gained greater influence of the ownership and position within the company because they considered me loyal for giving the $1.35 million back and not making too much of a stink about the $70,000 profit.

Little did they know I got the better of them. The company eventually folded due to family disputes, but my understanding is that the ownership walked away in a very good financial position. They likely could have been a much better and greater company had they not practiced the same dishonesty that they showed me with their vendors, clients, and employees. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. Viewer submitted confession. I accidentally killed someone.

It was about five years ago. I was a very troubled kid. Still am. I had a reputation of a hero because I was beating up people that were bullying others. There was this guy. His name was Mark. He was one of the worst people I've ever met. He was a arwardist.

He awrored multiple girls from my school, and when I found out I was mad. Really, really mad. The police wasn't doing anything because his father was a lawyer, so I decided to take the matter into my own hands. It was a cold night. I was laying in my bed, doom scrolling like always, and then I got a text from Mark. Hey, I heard about you a lot. Want to meet up?

When I saw that, I knew this was the perfect time to show him how it feels to get hurt. I got up, dressed up, and left my house. He wanted to meet at a forest. I already knew what he was planning. After about 15 minutes of walking, I finally got there. And there he was standing not so far away from the main path, with that disgusting grin on his face. I walked up to him, and before he could say anything, I punched him.

He fell to the ground and I just started punching him like crazy. After 10 minutes, I stopped. Blood was everywhere. And he was just laying there. He was still breathing when I left. The next day, I was walking from school. And then I got a call from my friend. Yo, did you hear that Mark is missing?

What? Wait, what do you mean he's missing? Yeah, his mom reported him missing a few hours ago. Oh, well, I hope he doesn't get found, ha ha. Me too. Fuck that guy. I went home and the thoughts started jumping in my head. He's missing and I was a little.

the last person he saw. I couldn't have beat him up that badly, right? This was in November. In the woods. Cold. Freezing. He still considered missing. I killed him that day.

I left him there knowing fucking well that he will freeze to death. He either got up and on the way he just fell and never opened his eyes again. Or he never got up in the first place. I don't feel bad. I don't feel anything. He deserved it. He was a monster, not me. I didn't want to kill him that day.

I wasn't even thinking of that. But you know, your body reacts faster than your mind. He had it coming. He just didn't know when it would happen. I've ruined my wife's life. I just want to start by saying I am an incredible coward. for letting things get to the point they are at now. I feel as if this is the worst post that this subreddit will see for a long time.

I am 26 years old, as is my wife. We've been married for a year and a half. To keep a long story short, I was always unhappy in our relationship. I tried and tried to make my wife happy, but I never was made to feel like I was good enough. I proposed to make her happy. We got married because I know it's what she wanted. I hope things between us would change and get better after each of these huge steps, but it never did.

Then we found out she was pregnant. A few months later, I finally told her how I feel about a relationship and that I want to divorce. I feel I cannot be a good parent to our soon-to-be-born child living in a loveless, unhealthy relationship. In my heart, I truly think it would be better for the child to have two separate parents. that get along rather than two married that fight and raise her in a loveless, unhealthy household. I become more and more emotionally distant, and I eventually start sleeping in the spare room. Eventually, I agree to counseling, even though my mind is made up. I don't want to fix the marriage.

I just want out. I want to be happy and feel loved, something that has been missing for many years. While I am still married, I currently am still, I meet this new girl. She drives me absolutely crazy with everything she does, and we fall for each other instantly. I haven't even got to the most controversial part. This new girl is 18. I know it's cliche, and everyone will joke, but she is incredibly mature for age for what it's worth. Her and I start dating and eventually sleeping together.

I have not been intimate with my wife since we conceived. I told my girlfriend my situation, and she is willing to wait it out to be together. I love her so much. She has helped me through so many dark times. During all this, my wife makes efforts to fix issues that have been on our relationship from the beginning. I still just want out. I eventually tell her that I've kissed another girl, thinking it would end things, and she tells me she still wants to be with me. I tell her, I slept with someone else, and she again,

said she still wants to be with me. She continues trying and I continue pushing for a divorce. So here I am, Reddit. I'm a complete and utter fuck up. I have cheated on my pregnant wife. My family has pretty much disown me for wanting to divorce. My parents and I had a brutal argument over this. When I left, I cried for hours.

I also contemplated S word. I would never fall through with it, but it made me wonder if anyone would even care or miss me. I may lose all my friends through this process, but I'm dedicated to falling through. I've not been happy in a very, very long time. I have not felt loved in a very, very long time. Until now, with my new girlfriend. I'm selfish in how I've been acting, but I don't know what else to do.

I want a divorce, but she just refuses to let me go. She is a better person than I ever will be. I just want to be happy. Despite all of these things I've done, I fully intend on being there for our child. I would never want them to think they are the cause of this. I will never speak ill of my wife to our child and never use them as our pawn. I will be the best father I possibly could be and love our kid with all of my heart. Thank you for reading.

It felt good to get this off my chest. She won't read this, but I just wanted to know that I'm sorry for hurting her. her. I gambled away the money my dad worked hard for and handed it out to me for college. I 19 have begun my undergrad studies last year. I come from a working class family and we haven't inherited any wealth and lived pretty much paycheck to paycheck till I left for college. My dad works extremely hard to provide for me and my family and so does my mom. My dad then gave me around 7,000 euros before I started colleges here to help me out with rent,

insurance, and food. That is supposed to last me a whole year as student dorms are pretty cheap here and my uni fees has already been paid for. I started gambling around three months ago with 7,000 euros in my account.

It only started as a fun thing to do with friends. I lost around 300 euros in the first week and thought I'll leave gambling for good. However, I just wanted to get back whatever I lost and then leave. And so it began. It spiraled out of control and I was losing money every day. It got so bad that I'd spend my whole day on the gambling website

trying to just make back whatever I lost. I wasn't having fun doing it. I had to do it because I couldn't ask my dad for any more money as he was already under a massive debt and couldn't be burdened with any more stress. And finally, it came. The day I've been dreading since the beginning. I couldn't deposit any more money in the gambling site.

I was devastated and I still am. I didn't have the heart to do it, but I had to ask my dad for more money. I lied to him about what happened to the money. I told him I'd have access to it in a few weeks. He trusted me and sent me 2,000 euros more. I just wanted to be. make back whatever I lost and tried to gamble again. Oh no. Then I fucked up big time. I lost all the money again yesterday when I blew it all up gambling. Jesus, man. I'm planning to come

clean to my dad. I don't know how he's going to take it. It will break his trust and disappoint him a lot. I'm terrified of what's going to happen after I tell him. I destroyed my social life the past few months. I've been on gambling sites like a degenerate all day long and I ignored my friends. I feel malnourished as I don't even have enough money to eat thrice a day. This is the first time I'm sharing this and I wanted this burden off my chest. Just please don't gamble with anything more than the amount you can lose. It broke me apart after all that and I don't know what I'm going to do now. I hope I can make it up to my dad. He's my hero. and the fact that I did it to such a pure person breaks my heart.

And I have to just completely change one of the last sentences he said there. The OP says, just please don't gamble with anything more than the amount you can lose. I would just replace that with don't gamble. Because, I mean, that's how the OP got in the hole in the first place. He gambled what he could lose, and he just gambled for fun. But guess what? You lose that money and you want to gain it back.

That's just the vicious cycle of gambling. And it's very easy to tell yourself, oh, well, I'm just going to start with $100. Well, what happens when you lose that $100? Most people don't listen to their own rules. And they're going to be like, well, I can do another hundred. I'm going to earn back that other hundred. And then soon enough, they're down 1,000. Oh, well, I just got to earn the 1,000 back.

Oh, well, now you're down 2,000. And then so on and so forth until you lose everything like we just saw with the O.P. And it is so sad that the O.P got into this hole that they did. and it's even sadder that the OPE lost his $7,000 and then got more money from his dad and lost that all. I mean, it's so sad that his dad worked so hard for that money and worked his ass off and gave it to his son, trusting his son, that he'd spend it on things he needed, but he just blew it all away. Blew it away, gambling, and for everyone watching, please just don't gamble. It's not worth it. You will lose.

And right now, it is easier to get addicted to gambling than I ever. has before, people have casinos in their pockets with all of these sports books and all that bullshit. Just don't gamble. Don't even entertain it because you will lose. And it's not a addiction you even want to get started. And the OPE has since deleted their accounts. So we can't see any sort of update post. But I hope the O.P was able to get a job and start earning back that money and paying back their dad. But just such a sad, sad story of addiction. I just wanted to get something off my chest that I've carried for a long time. I'm an 18-year-old female, and when I was 15, I was in a car accident that changed my life.

When I was 12, I moved next door to my best friend. I'm going to call him Jim. He was a couple months older than me, and from the moment we met, we were basically inseparable. We'd both grown up without great role models, and we understood each other in a way no one else did. Sometimes we were more than friends like a lot of teens, but mostly we were just extremely close. My mom was a drug addict. My dad wasn't around. And my grandma had custody of me.

My grandma was very mentally abusive, so being around Jim felt like an escape. One night, me and Jim went to my mom's house. It was one of those nights where we could drink, party, and do whatever, because, you know, because there weren't really any rules. My mom's friend, son was there. I'm going to call him Bob. Bob had a car, and we were all drinking and hanging out. My little sister was there too.

I'll call her Lily. She was only 13. At some point, we all got into Bob's car. The plan was simple. Drive down the road, take a quick lap on the back road, and come right back. Jim actually tried to get out of the car and go to sleep, but I told him to come with us, just for a quick ride,

because we'd be right back. So it ended up being me in the passenger seat, Bob driving, Jim behind me, and Lily behind Bob. The road we went down was a one-lane back road with no markings and no warning signs. There was this curve-shaped, almost like an L, and it came up fast. We were probably going around 55 or 6,000,

60 miles an hour, and then we hit a tree. I don't remember the impact itself. I remember seeing the tree and closing my eyes. When I opened them, I was on the floorboard with my knees shoved up against my chest. Before the wreck, I was already sitting with my knees up. But when we hit, I got thrown down. Me and Jim weren't wearing seatbelts. Bob and Lily were.

Later, an officer told me the only reason I didn't go through the windshield was because Jim slammed into the back of my seat and knocked me down into the floorboard. When I looked up, Jim was laying between the front seats, bleeding out of his nose and mouth. Jim has hemophilia, which means he bleeds way more than the average person. I immediately panicked because I thought he was going to die. I pulled myself up from where I was stuck, crawled over Jim, and climbed out through the driver's side door to get to Bob. He was panicking and apologizing, and I kept telling him that he had to calm down because we had to help Jim and Lily. I tried to grab Bob's phone to call for help, but it was broken. It was dark, and I couldn't find anyone else's phone.

Lily kept saying she thought her back was broken. She was bleeding badly from her face, but we couldn't even tell where it was. it was coming from. I told Bob to get her out of the car and go get help. My mom's house was about a mile from where we wrecked. Bob got Lily out and sat her down across the road. Then I pulled Jim out of the car. It took a lot of effort because he was stuck for a minute. When I finally got him out, his left leg was bent up unnaturally, almost toward his head. I still can't forget what that looked like. The reason I dragged him out was because I was terrified the car was. The car was going to catch fire.

I don't even know why I thought of that. But it was my first serious crash and I was in full panic mode. I dragged Jim across the road and tried to keep him warm. It was cold that night. So I ran back to the car and grabbed anything I could to cover him up. He was unconscious for around 10 minutes. When he finally woke up, he had no idea what happened. Me, Jim, and my sister waited for help.

for what felt like forever. About 15 minutes later, I heard a truck coming. So I started jumping up and down in the middle of the road to flag it down. That road is out on the woods and barely anyone drives down it, so I knew it had to be someone connected to us. It was my mom. She was already on the phone with 911 when she pulled away. She got my sister into the car right away, my stepdad stayed with me, and Jim until EMS finally arrived. It took about 45 minutes for help to get there. During that time, I sat on the ground with Jim crying. I genuinely thought he was going to bleed out and die because of his hemophilia. We kept telling each other how much we loves each other. We were both terrified. When EMS arrived, they ended up life-flighting him. I swear I told them he

had a hemophilia a hundred times because I was so scared they wouldn't take it seriously. They took me and Lily by ambulance to the hospital. Jim went to a different one. Bob went to the same hospital as us. Bob was 19, hanging out with 15-13-year-olds, and I felt like he should have known better. But I also blame myself a lot, because even though my mom was an addict, she always told me never to ride with someone who had been drinking,

and I still did. I encourage my little sister and my best friend to get in that car too. Jim was in the hospital for three weeks. He broke his leg in three places and now has a metal rod in it. My sister has a scar on her chin because her seabell broke and basically tore a chunk of her chin out. Thankfully, her back wasn't broken. Just really bad whiplash. I twisted my wrist and ankle and had bruising all over my leg.

Bob had a spider web fracture in his foot. What makes me angry is that Bob told everyone the brakes failed. They didn't. He just says that to make himself sound better. He got charged with contributing to minors, and now is it. He didn't serve time. He was on probation for six months. A week later, his grandma bought him a brand new car.

I don't think he learned anything. It's been almost four years, and I still struggle with it constantly. I have a really hard time riding in cars with people I don't know or people I just met. And even when I'm driving, all I can think about is how fast. life can change. All it takes is one mistake, one decision, one second, and you can permanently injure someone or kill them. So please never drink and drive. And please be careful every single time you get behind the wheel. Thank you for letting me share my story. I hope someone can learn from it. I mercilessly bullied five people in high school. Three out of the five.

of them committed S-word. I am in my 40s now, and I don't deserve the life I have. I stepped on the backs of my classmates to make myself feel better about myself. I was bullied harshly in school and had the shit beat out of me on a daily basis until I hit puberty. Then I suddenly grew into a monster. I towered over everybody at school. I also channeled my anger into working out and became even bigger. I was a huge ogre of a person. I hated everybody. I had so much angst built up from my own bullying. My former bullies, being the manipulative cowards that they were, I see this in retrospect, but didn't see it at the time, befriended me. And we pretty much held a reign of terror over the whole school. I fed on the newfound respect from my former

enemies. We prayed on the week. There were about five nerds that I personally tormented harshly. I joined Facebook a couple months ago to see what became of them. I had hopes that they were able to live a happy life despite my awful treatment of them. One, I knew died suspiciously in high school, but it turns out it was a S-word that was covered up. Two more committed S-word right after high school graduation. The fourth lives alone in a trailer. and appears to be crazy, the fifth person actually turned their life around and married the head cheerleader

several years after graduation, so at least there's that. I wish I could apologize to the remaining too, but it would be so trite and meaningless. Plus, it would probably retramatize them, having to see me again, or having to think about those events again. I suck.

I'm sorry. And sometimes, I feel like I should commit S word as well. You know, to balance these scales of life, I've been tormented my entire life for being the bully that I was, when I really should have been an advocate for the bullied instead.

I mean, I already knew how it felt. Instead of sticking up for people in beating the bully's asses, I, like a bitch, join them. I can never forgive myself for that. that. Hi, Snook. I've been a great fan of yours for the last couple of years. Your stories help me fall asleep and put my mind off of things. It's been incredible to see your following grow. You truly deserve every bit of it. I'm currently one and a half years clean and I will never go back

to the madness of active addiction. I've lived a crazy life. And two years ago, I decided to finally start taking responsibility and fix my lifestyle before I lost every year. everyone and everything. Please keep my email private. You can call me S. Here is my confession. Back when this happened, I was living on an island in Spain. I lived a reckless lifestyle, partying basically every day and staying awake for multiple

days at a time. As you can imagine, I was surrounded by people living the same way. Somehow, this island has its way. way of making people lose touch with reality and let themselves go all out. My friend, Max, however, was not aware of this. He came to visit me from my home country. I hadn't seen him in quite a while and didn't have much contact with him. But one day, we started talking again over WhatsApp. And soon enough, he asked if he could come visit me. Of course, I said yes. Why not? When the time came, he arrived and we had some drinks.

We hadn't really discussed any plans for his stay, but as things usually unfolded for me back then, I got a message from my friend named Roxy. She invited me and some others to a festival. She was actually one of the organizers, so we could get free VIP. Max was initially excited, but later he told me he'd been trying to stay off drugs and wanted to be careful. I assured him everything would be fine,

as long as he didn't take anything from strangers. He'd been to the island before, so he knew his way around. I wasn't worried. We started the night with drinks at my favorite bar. At the time, I was basically constantly on booger sugar, which I didn't tell Max. I was feeling myself talking to everyone and inviting random people along to the festival. Max seemed awkward, struggling to interact as much as I did. Upon arriving at the festival, we were greeted by security and brought to a table

Roxy had set aside for us. I was super excited, introducing Max to everyone I knew. As the evening progressed, I saw him enjoying himself more and more. It felt great to reconnect, but I could tell we had grown apart. I wasn't ready to let go of my lifestyle. He was more mature and reserved. He told me there was a girl and introduced him to that he was. really liked. Anna. She was very pretty with a great character. I tried to get them together,

but eventually I left them alone because I could only do so much. What followed was a blur of crazy shit. I was talking a lot with Roxy. I was really attracted to her, but the problem was she was married to a much older, wealthy dude. I tried to impress her by buying bottles and all the superficial nonsense you do on Booger Sugar when you think you're the man. You're the man. and somehow it worked. I guess it also helped that we took a bunch of pills and booger sugar together. In the end, we hooked up and decided to have an after-party. While all this happened, I hadn't been paying attention to my friend.

Turns out, he had been doing the same. He hooked up with Anna and had taken other pills with her, even though he said he wasn't touching drugs because it was problematic for him. But hey, who cares? We had fun, right? As the festival ended, we planned the after-party at Roxy's villa. She had staff who set up everything while we made our way there. It sounded perfect.

Max was super excited to go as long as Anna was coming, and she did. We brought about 50 people back to her house. It was a massive place with multiple levels facing off a cliff into the ocean, featuring a big infinity pool on the lowest level. We were partying on the main top floor in the roof terrace. Booze flowed freely. A DJ arrived and drugs were being given out for free. Things got wild quickly.

Some people got kicked out by security, but after that, it felt more relaxed. Max seemed to be enjoying himself with Anna, so I left them alone. At some point, Roxy and I decided to sneak off to the pool for a swim. Being high and focused on her, I lost track of time. Soon enough, the sun started coming up. We laughed and chilled a bit more before going back upstairs to check on the others. When we rejoined the party, I noticed I couldn't find Max anywhere. I asked around and a girl told me he had been kicked out three hours ago.

Anna had complained he was acting weird and took too many drugs. And apparently, he kept pushing her to sleep with him. I was shocked and worried. I apologized to Anna and tried to get to. in touch with him. When I opened my phone, I saw 20 messages from him saying he was outside begging to be let back in and saying he was sorry that he felt out of control because of the drugs. I tried calling, but there was no answer. Eventually, it went straight to voicemail. I assumed he was mad and had gone home. The thing was, he was driving one of my cars, and he was super fucked up. Back

then, I always drove under the influence, so I couldn't judge, but I was still worried. Roxy told me to calm down and that he'd probably just gone to my own house to sleep. Being the addicted, irresponsible person I was, I accepted it and used more drugs to take my mind off of it. The party finally ended the next day at 11 p.m., 32 hours after we started drinking. It took me a long time to wake up from that hangover. In the meantime, I had completely forgotten about me. Max in the situation with Anna.

About 48 hours after the whole thing started, I finally woke up and remembered, oh shit, where is Max? Zero messages or calls from them. But I had two miscalls, one from a number I didn't recognize, and one from Anna. Anna had also messaged me, and reading it almost gave me a heart attack. She said, after Max was kicked out, he said, sent her over 100 messages. He started by begging to

let him back in to make things right. She had turned off her phone to continue partying. When she turned her back on, she saw the messages had turned dark. He wrote that no one ever loved him. No one cared. And the drugs made him realize

what the world really meant to him. His last message was, fuck it, I already started. I might as well keep going now. It sunk in. He was talking about drugs. Since he had stopped for a while before coming to the island, his tolerance was gone.

The only place to get drugs at that time of night was in sketchy, dangerous trailer parks. Him being a white guy in my car, he would stick out. My body filled with anxiety. I contacted everyone I knew to find my car, but Max still wasn't answering. He was supposed to stay for four days. We started partying on the first, and now it was the fourth, and I had no idea where he was. Filled with guilt, I called the police and told them my car had been stolen so they would locate it. After another day passed, and I just numbed myself with more drugs to suppress the shame, then the call came.

The police found my car parked outside a trailer park, notorious for being an open drug in weapons market. it. They didn't just find the car. Max was inside. Dead. All the doors were open and the car was still running. His wallet and belongings were gone. The only thing left was a syringe and the tools used to cook H. They told me he died of an OD and was likely robbed after he passed out. I feel immensely guilty. I struggle with addiction myself and I know the feeling of being so depressed you don't want to keep going.

All I can do now is stay sober and pray. I have lived a lot of life in the shadows and I can share more stories from my past if you want them. Just let me know. I tried to kill my roommate's dog. Hi, Snook.

This is not only a confession, but also a way to spread awareness on postpartum psychosis. You have a large following that I feel can shed light on what I went through and help others who may have experienced it. Otherwise, I'd never tell the internet this. Some background and build up. I had never seen a professional for my behavioral issues growing up, so I was never diagnosed. Nor did I know mental illness was even a thing. I was just raw dogging it.

Fast forward to 2018. I'm 19 and I just had a kid. I spent two occasions in the behavioral hospital while pregnant due to what I now know was intrusive thoughts to harm the baby in utero. I ended up getting an appointment with a friend at the time at the end of 2019. I documented in journals sleeping for days at a time. Not sleeping four days at a time. Intense flashbacks of things I had done to people in my past.

I had hallucinations that caused me to do things to myself. My child spent a lot of their time with their grandparents and not with me because I couldn't stand the sound of crying and had thoughts to permanently hurt them, though I never expressed that to anyone. 2020 hit along with the pandemic. I lived in an apartment with a toddler, two adults who didn't work, and a dog who was untrained in every way.

I was the only one working to support us. So not only on top of my hallucinations and breaks from reality, I had a house full of literal dog shit because he was never, ever, ever taken out. One night in specific, I woke up from my sleep to sleep paralysis. I looked ahead to my child's toddler bed and saw my hallucination there. I said in my head, don't hurt them. Hurt me. Then my child started to cry and the paralysis broke.

I got up and scurried to the kitchen to get them a sippy cup of warm milk to soothe them back to sleep and it grabbed me. The things tormenting me, I felt on my back. I watched myself from the corner of the room go stiff and struggle to move, and I heard something say, you'll kill her, you'll kill her, then commit S word. I don't have to hurt her because I know you will. It broke and I ran into my room through the piss-covered floor and slipped. That was my breaking point. It pissed me off to fall after what I just experienced and I aimed my angeles.

and I aimed my anger at the dog. I went to buy antifreeze, came home, poured a bowl, and shoved the dog's face in it. When he didn't comply, I got angry and grabbed him by the scruff

to the kitchen, where I covered about 15 pills in peanut butter and shoved them down his throat. All the while, I watched myself from the corner of the room again with tears of my eyes, because that wasn't me, the girl who would take animals home in childhood,

to give a warm home, the one who had dreams of becoming a vet, I watched this monster erupt from me. I left him there as soon as I noticed they were ingested. He, of course, got sick. I can find him my partner at the time, and ultimately the relationship ended really nasty. My roommate was very concerned for a sick dog, unable to take him to the vet because they didn't work,

and I can find to them as well. On their bedroom floor, I looked at their sick dog and sobbed the words out. They were kind to me in the moment and soon turned to anger understandably. They told everyone in our town and I received tons of death threats and vandalism to my apartment. I had to change my phone number and move. The dog made a full recovery. He is very well to this day.

I arranged two days later to take my child to their grandparents to go to treatment. I lost custody of my child for four and a half years when they discovered what I had done a few days after I was admitted. I was diagnosed with a plethora of mood slash personality disorders. I sought treatment for my disorders for three years. I still, six years later, to this day, require and go to therapy for what I did to their dog. I do not make comments on animal posts on social media,

due to the fear everyone knows what I did. I do not plan on ever getting another dog of my own due to the guilt I have one I took from my dad because he was abusing him and we had this dog since 2015. I am undeserving of pets. I am undeserving of their forgiveness and love. I will forever see myself as a heartless monster who did an ultimate betrayal to a friend and their companion despite being literally out of my mind. Nothing will justify the pain I cause my roommate.

When you are pregnant, please be aware of postpartum depression. It is so common. If you have a predisposition for any mental illness, specifically bipolar or schizophrenia, please go to therapy and be aware of mood changes during pregnancy and postpartum to prevent postpartum psychosis from taking over. I am very lucky. to have noticed my thoughts and actions were wrong. I was lucky to not have taken the life of my child and or myself despite the urges and thoughts.

Everyone shunned me. Everyone told me I deserved to lose my child and everything life held for me, that I deserved nothing good. That won't stop me from speaking on my experience with PPP. Speak out. Speak out and survive. do not be quiet and die. Thank you, Snook, if you feature the story. I love your videos and getting to hear about the hard and challenging experiences of other people.

I was married to a murderer for eight years and lied to the police about him. He died last year. His crimes going completely unpunished. When I was 22, I fell in love with a much older man, 40 years old, who was in the local crime group. He sold drugs, worked partially in a nightclub, beats women, had a gun on him always, etc. And yet, young me loved him for it. It felt cool to me. I had no education. I was born in the USSR and I had no money. I didn't care. I wanted to be married to a bad boy who provided for me. My alternatives were dull.

This lifestyle was glamorous and sexy to me at the time. Two years in was when I first realized he killed a man at the nightclub. He was covered in blood when he came home, and the news said they found a body near the club. Either he helped hide the body, or he did it himself. I never knew what happened. Then he killed another man only 15 days later. his cousin's friend who I had met before

there was some kind of rift in the business that had lasted for a while between them and the cousin was a drug addict and an arwardist I know he did it he didn't tell me outright but he implied it the cousin's friend himself was a brutish horrific man from what I understand he more than deserved it I have no sympathy for his death maybe five to six years later

he shouted at me to throw down his gun from his bedroom drawer quickly, as quickly as possible. I did. He ran back outside. I heard a flurry of gunfire and a girl shrieking in pain and crying, then another gunshot, which ended that. I locked myself in my bathroom door horrified, literally petrified of what had just happened. I waited a bit, a few months, but that night was the night I realized I had to leave him. During those few months, cops came to my door and asked me questions about that night. I said I knew nothing. Didn't hear anything.

They told me she was a dancer at the nightclub you worked at. 19 years old. With a child, born in Baku. I still didn't say anything. They didn't entirely suspect them at that point. We divorced. I moved to the UK. Then to the USA.

It has been, let me think, 17 years since I divorced him, I believe. We got married in 1993 and got divorced in 2001, so 17 years. I found out he died of a heart attack recently. Well, I found out recently, but the heart attack was last year. I don't know why I have never told anyone in the West about my experience with them. I tell people I was married before, but to an alcoholic. And that is all I say as to why I broke it off with him. I have never told anyone the real reason.

I feel such immense dread in relation to the fact that I let him kill people and get away with it. He should have suffered and went to jail and I lied to the police. He killed a 19-year-old mother. High-functioning amphetamine addict. If you read all of this and respond, I'm grateful for you. So I've got a prescription to Adderall. Nothing crazy. I started a job in finance and needed a boost to help me while studying for exams a few years ago.

Waring a suit and seeing a doctor made the process easy. I've always had an inclination towards amphetamines and would routinely buy them prior to this new career. I honestly didn't know how much I liked them until I had such a big supply of them. I usually only use them to party on the weekend. Fast forward. What I find myself doing now when I refill a script is taking three or so at a time. I'm super productive for a few days, but also end up staying awake until the early morning. It doesn't matter if it's a school night, I can't control it.

The next day, the only way to get back on the day, the grind is to take another one when I get up, and then another one around lunch, and maybe another one after work. The result of all of this is that it's a bender, that lasts days with very little sleep at all. Funny enough, though, while I'm high, I do great. I make tons of contacts, get clients to do business, make decent money. The problem comes when I run out. A 30-day supply lasts a week and a half tops. That's when I crash hard. I can't do anything but sleep for days, get super depressed, and don't care about any of my responsibilities. I call out of work, miss all of my obligations, and don't pick up the phone. I'm very good at excuses, apologies,

and explanations. I'm also charismatic and personable, so until now I've been able to talk my way out of issues. But that ended last week. I went through my monthly cycle, let a lot of people down, lost a big opportunity in my firm and a spot on a big nonprofit board of directors. I messed up years of hard work. Apologies didn't help. People are disappointed in me and there isn't room for forgiveness. I don't think people know I'm an addict. They just think I'm, unreliable and disrespectful. Maybe drugs took a while, but I feel like they ruined my life. I'm sad.

I'm depressed. I feel worthless. And the worst part is that I know and comprehend what I'm doing when I do it. It's like I have no self-control. I don't know if this is a call for help, but I need someone to say I'm an addict. I haven't said it to anyone before, especially myself, but that's my confession. I am an addict, and it's ruining my life. And all right, guys, with that final confession, that wraps up some unsettling confession threads,

and these were some of the most disturbing confessions I have ever read. This was a wild, wild video, but I appreciate everyone who sent in their confessions. and if you'd like to have your confession in a future video, please send to the email in the description. Thank you. And you guys are the best. Thank you so much for watching to the end of the video. Please leave your comments down below and your thoughts down below.

And yeah, like I said, I appreciate you guys watching. It Means the World. And please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps more than you know. And let me know if I'd like to see videos longer than this, shorter than this, or about this length, about an hour long. Comment down below.

I read every single comment. and this is the best community on YouTube. Hands down, you guys are the best. And yeah, thank you so much for watching, and this is Snook, and I'll see you next time. Bye.