My roommate loves singing in the shower.

Not humming. Full-volume performances at 6:30 in the morning. Same four songs, every weekday.

A few months ago I was exhausted and told him, completely off the top of my head, that the bathroom vents in our building are connected vertically and everyone above and below us can probably hear him.

I have no idea if that's actually true.

He looked horrified and immediately stopped.

Problem solved.

Except a week later I heard him warning our downstairs neighbor about the "weird vent thing" because she mentioned doing karaoke at home.

Then she apparently told someone else.

Last month a guy from two floors up was in the elevator talking about how sound travels through the bathroom ventilation in this building and how "management really should fix it."

I said nothing.

Yesterday our landlord emailed everyone reminding tenants to be considerate about noise because he'd received several questions about the bathroom ventilation.

There is now an actual building-wide rumor based entirely on a lie I invented before coffee because I couldn't listen to Mr. Brightside one more fucking time.

My roommate even told me this morning, "See? I told you that vent thing was real."

I agreed with him.

I didn't know a better title. This is my first time using reddit. I'm gonna try and make this shorter but I doubt it will be. Anyway, I (15F) am the middle child of nine. Which is hell. Our dad died seven years ago so our mom's a single mom and can't work. I went up and spent two months at my grandparents house. It was originally gonna be just one but ended up longer. And honestly, it was the best part of the last seven years. Everything there was better. I never ran out of food there, while at home we run out on around the twentieth and can't get more food until the third of next month. I didn't have to worry wether we could pay the bills. We had wi-fi there, which with so many people and screens it's not much of a thing at home. We had clean dishes, while our dishwasher works terribly and our mother denies it. It was quite which obviously isn't much of a thing with ten people in the house. Our grandparents are those people who have the TV on all the time even when they're not watching. And they're hard of hearing so it's usually louder. But even that's better than people screaming and yelling all the time. And all the walls are paper thin. All the little problems I have at home aren't even thoughts there. At home everything feels gross. Some of our siblings are unhygienic and our mother has no plans of helping them. I'm a germaphobe and outside and public I hate. I'm trying to find gloves to wear when I go out. It was nice having a home were it feels clean and safe. Every inch of our home feels gross and filthy to me. I wanna Tare all my skin off touching anything there. Its always messy no matter what. While at our grandparents it feels clean and tidy and I don't feel constantly stressed about it. There, I actually had motivation to get up and take care of myself and keep my room clean. I felt more independent. Even the stuff out of our control was better. The city they live in is so calm and beautiful. The weather is great although very windy. I did stay through a heat wave but, maybe I'm just used to worse, but I wasn't more than warm there. At home on the other hand, it's usually hot as hell. The average of inside is 86 but went up to 106. Hotter outside. Not to mention we don't have AC. Today it was 103 in September. It's very humid here and the average is around 75. When it does rain it storms so hard. Thunder so loud it hurts your ears. It shakes the house and knocks trees down. It rains so hard you can't see through the windows and you can hear and smell it from inside with the windows shut. And it floods lots. There have been floods and heat waves a week apart. We also live near "chemical valley" and our town is known for how bad the air quality is. Like you can feel the difference. Not to mention when I came home the fires were going on and polluting the air even more. And there was a flood warning on my way home. My home life isnt great too. With so many people theres always a fight when we're together. Eventually we stopped trying to avoid it and just prepared to fight any moment at the smallest things. It's like walking on minefields constantly waiting to blow. With so many children you're bound to have unfair treatment. It's proven you can't treat them all equally no matter how hard you try if you have over six or something. Our mom, whether she consciously does it or not, has a favourite. And spoiler, it's not me. Infact I'm one of the least. I know "everyone thinks they're not the favorite" or whatever but I actually know it. She doesn't hide it much at all. I'm not getting into all of it cause it'll take hours but my moms really not a great mother. I know being a single mom and all she deserves lots of grace, but it's been six years and she don't really parent us much at all. I feel like katniss resenting her mother for shutting down when their father died. But we're left to parent our younger siblings. We do so much infact even they've caught on. Our five year old sister has made some unintentionally passive aggressive comments like "now that (me) is leaving you have to take care of us." Whenever we're tired our mom just says "that's what parentings like." But we didn't ask to be parents, you did! I won't get into any more of my family troubles now. I could've stayed a little longer there but apparently my mom called me grandma almost crying cause she missed me. I was a little skeptical but believed it til I got home and she didn't even say hi to me. Infact she didn't say anything to me until like ten minutes after I got home and I was standing next to her and she said "Do you need something?" And now I'm back. I had a panick attack the night I came home and lay on my bed in the dark crying trying to convince myself I was dreaming coming home. I've wanted to move out for at least two years already. I know it's like "you always wanna grow up til you do" but I don't care. I know I'll be better not here. Obviously there things I'd miss, like my siblings and stuff. Honestly I didn't really miss my mom much. I feel bad about it but I didn't. It's like I had everything I wanted and it was all ripped away and I'm all back to square one. I've been home for about a month and a half now and I want to go back every single day. I hate my life. Honestly I just needed to vent. And sorry this is so scattered I'm bad at putting my thoughts into words and I have bad adhd. I doubt anyone would read all this anyway. I didn't know where else to post this.

Okay, this is a little embarrassing to share but back when I first started to experiment with self pleasure I thought a blowjob meant you literally blew air on your dick… I remember I literally blew air on my meat for 35 minutes straight and almost passed out… I was so confused as to why I wasn’t feeling any pleasure and still chuckle to myself when I think about that moment… I think I hadn’t even watched porn at that point and heard one of my friends talk about it and that’s what sparked me to attempt my solo “blow” session… hopefully that made yall giggle… have a great life my fellow redditors :) !

There are two normal bathrooms on my floor and then one single-person bathroom tucked around a corner near an old storage room.

Almost nobody used it, but once people discovered it existed, it became weirdly popular.

I loved that bathroom. Quiet, clean, actual door, no coworker three feet away fighting for his life in the next stall.

So about eight months ago I printed a very boring little sign that said:

“OUT OF ORDER

Please use main restrooms”

I taped it to the door.

Nothing is wrong with the bathroom.

The first week I assumed somebody from facilities would remove it.

Nobody did.

So now every day I walk past the sign, unlock the perfectly functional bathroom, do my business, put the sign back and return to work.

I've watched coworkers read it and turn around.

I've even heard one guy complain that “they still haven't fixed that bathroom.”

Last month facilities actually inspected it because somebody apparently reported it.

They found nothing wrong and removed my sign.

I printed another one two days later.

At this point I realize I've basically stolen a bathroom from an entire office floor because I enjoy pooping alone.

I should stop.

I probably won't until somebody catches me.

For the last eight months I've been doing something I call neighbor nosing. I'll take pictures of my neighbors while they're taking out the trash, for example. Then I'll zoom in on their face and upload the image to ChatGPT and ask ChatGPT to output coordinates for a 3D model. Then I'll bring that into my 3D printer software and print a version of their nose that's slightly bigger than my nose. I'll then put adhesive tabs on the inside of my neighbor's printed nose and put it on my nose and wear it outside when I'm doing things like bringing out the trash from mowing my lawn. It's important that you find filament that matches your native nose color otherwise it's too obvious. But you want to see how long you can wear your neighbor's noses for without them noticing. When they do notice, you can't admit anything. If they say to you, "Hey, why are you wearing my nose, or at least a 3D printed version of my nose but slightly bigger?" you can't admit anything. You have to talk about, for example, the weather or talk about your mailman and say how annoyed you are that he keeps losing your mail and then go back to mowing your lawn. If anyone is interested in the ChatGPT prompt I use to make this work, please let me know and I'll tell you in the thread.

I regret not giving my dad his last ice cream and slapping him a few days before he died.

Long story short, both of my parents had an accident on aug 12, 2025. Before aug 2025, they were a happy, loving couple without many serious health problems. That accident changed everything.

My mom broke six ribs, and my dad broke three bones in his legs. They were out for their morning walk when they were hit by a tipper truck carrying dairy products.

After their surgeries, my sister (15) and I (18) thought that maybe everything would finally be okay. We had no idea that it was only the beginning.

In November, my dad's legs started swelling. We thought it was because of the accident or the surgery. 4 days later, he started talking nonsense and became extremely confused so we rushed him back to the hospital. The doctors told us that his kidneys were severely damaged and that he needed emergency dialysis.

He remained hospitalized until feb. Finally, we thought things were getting better. He was discharged on feb 11 and started doing dialysis twice a week from home.

Things were relatively stable until june when he suddenly stopped producing urine. The doctor said it wasn't normal, but there wasn't much they could do except give him a medicine called torsemide 100 mg. Even then he was producing very little urine, maybe 150 ml a day at most.

Then the bloody august came again.

He suddenly stopped walking and barely ate. He was extremely confused and wasn't acting like himself at all. The walking itself wasn't what scared me because he had already been bedridden since aug 2025. He hadn't really been able to walk much since the accident.

On aug 24, something happened that I can't stop thinking about.

He had 4 pieces of apple stuck in his mouth. He wasn't chewing or swallowing them properly, and I was terrified he was going to choke. I slapped him 4 times. Not because I hated him. Not because I was angry at him. I loved my dad more than anyone.

I slapped him because I panicked. I was trying to get the apple out of his mouth because I thought he was going to die right there. I opened his mouth and got the pieces out.

But now, knowing what happened afterward, I can't stop regretting it.

On the night of aug 25, I brought some ice cream home. He asked for some, so I gave him a little cream on a cone. Then he asked for another one.

I told him, "Tomorrow is your dialysis. Let's get you another one after that. Not today."

He said okay and told me goodnight.

That was the last time my dad ever spoke to me.

On the morning of aug 26, he wasn't blinking his eyes. I went into his room and found him like that. His heart was still beating and his chest was moving, so we rushed him to the hospital.

The doctors admitted him to the ICU. They told us he had gone into shock because of heart failure. His kidneys had already failed, and he was also having serious liver problems. He needed to be put on a ventilator.

We said okay.

Then it became one test after another. One medicine after another. Every day, his condition got worse. Eventually, even his food had to be given through a tube in his nose.

He died yesterday, sept 2.

He never spoke again. He never opened his eyes again after aug 25 or aug 26 morning to be exact. He was kept alive by the ventilator until his body finally couldn't take it anymore.

And now I keep thinking about that stupid ice cream.

I wish I had given him another one.

I wish I had given him the whole damn thing. I wish I had given him can after can after can of ice cream if that's what he wanted.

And I wish I hadn't slapped him.

If I had known that just days later he would be gone, I would've held him instead. I would've given him whatever he wanted. I would've done anything to have one more normal conversation with him.

I know I slapped him because I was trying to save him from choking. I know that. But knowing it doesn't make the regret disappear.

I would give anything to go back to that night and give him that second ice cream.

Man, I miss my dad.

My little sister isn't doing well either, and I don't even know how I'm supposed to manage our family without him.

Dad, you were the strongest soldier I've ever known. I tried for a year, dad. I really did. But what was it all for? I just couldn't even give you the one thing you asked me for at the end.

I'm sorry.

I hope you forgive me.

I love you more than anything.

I miss you, dad.

I recently found out that my boyfriend is actually very wealthy. When I first got with him, I genuinely had no idea. I fell in love with him because of who he is, and money was never something I considered.

Now he’s offered to pay for basically everything for me, and I feel really uncomfortable accepting it. Part of me feels guilty, like I’m taking advantage of him, even though he’s the one offering and doesn’t seem to have an issue with it.

What makes me feel worse is that I’m scared he might eventually think I’m only with him for his money. The irony is that I didn’t even know he had money when I fell in love with him.

I obviously appreciate that he wants to take care of me, but I also want him to know that I’m with him because I genuinely love him, not because of what he can provide.

Would you feel uncomfortable accepting this? How do you accept generosity from a wealthy partner without feeling like you’re using them?

For the past 1.5 years, I have experienced something interesting. Whenever I take my morning walk through my neighborhood with my dog. I see one of my neighbors in the window. Her bathroom has a small window, and she is almost always topless and in clear view. At first I thought it was accidental, but it seems to happen 3-4x a week at various times. I usually do a few laps with the dog… for the last several months, she has been in her bedroom window on my second lap. Like clockwork, the blinds open and the lights kick on as I approach the house. She is fully nude and I can see everything. She dresses in front of the window and then walks away. We are both married, but I kind of wonder if I should approach her… maybe ask her why she does it... Thoughts? She is extremely attractive. I have definitely had to walk off an erection a time or two.

My dad used to dress for work in nice slacks, a button-down, and a tie. He also used to make a dozen hard-boiled eggs at the beginning of the week.

One time, I slipped an unboiled egg into his bowl of hard-boiled eggs. Dude goes to crack it on his desk at work, and that thing absolutely exploded all over his desk and suit. He was actually amused and didn’t even get mad.

I’d give anything to hear him laugh about that again. I miss him more than words can say.

This happened about three months ago and I have zero plans to ever admit this to anyone in real life.

My roommate (and long-time buddy) had been unemployed for almost half a year. He was getting desperate, but he had this one stupid faux-leather jacket from high school that he swore was his "lucky interview jacket." Problem was, he hadn't washed it in probably four years.

It didn't just smell bad; it smelled like stale sweat, wet dog, and old grease. You could literally smell him coming from down the hallway. He went to like 8 different interviews wearing this toxic hazard suit and couldn't figure out why he kept getting rejected after the first round. I tried telling him nicely, "Hey man, maybe wear a clean button-down without the jacket," but he’d get super defensive and throw a whole tantrum about how I was "ruining his mojo."

One night he got super drunk and passed out early. He had a huge final-round interview the next morning at 9 AM. I looked at that hideous jacket hanging on the chair, and I just snapped.

I grabbed it, stuffed it into a black trash bag, ran down three flights of stairs, and threw it deep into the apartment complex’s main dumpster right before the garbage truck arrived at 6 AM.

When he woke up, he went into full meltdown mode searching for it. Screaming, tearing up the living room, accusing me of misplacing it. I played completely clueless. I even helped him "look" for it under the couch while secretly praying he wouldn't check the dumpster.

Since he couldn't find it, he was forced to wear a normal, clean, navy blue blazer I lent him.

Go figure... HE GOT THE JOB.

He still brings up that "mysterious loss" at least once a week, talking about how someone must have broken into our apartment just to steal his favorite jacket. I just nod along like "Yeah man, absolute tragedy, people are crazy."

I feel a tiny bit guilty for destroying his favorite item, but honestly? I saved his career and my own nose. I'm taking this secret to my grave.

TRIGGER WARNING: THEMES OF MENTAL HEALTH AND SELF HARM IN THIS COMMENT. DO NOT READ IF THAT MAY TROUBLE OR ENDANGER YOU PLEASE!!!

I have schizophrenia. That statement makes people flinch back and retreat. It makes people not just uncomfortable, but scared of you. The revelation ends friendships very early on. My schizophrenia is not what you may think. I do not have multiple personalities. Nor does my neighbors dog tell me do bad things. I have empathy for others, perhaps even more than most because of what I have to go through with schizophrenia. I am not violent. I do not have thoughts or harming others. I cannot speak for all schizophrenics but I can share my own experience. That is why I am posting this. To share,vent, and offer to answer any questions you may have. All questions are welcomed, nothing is too personal. I will first share misconceptions that people have, then I will share the juicy stuff you are probably actually here to learn about.

First off, a few misconceptions about schizophrenia. The movie or TV show you saw was probably not even close to accurate. Many mental health problems get falsely lumped in with schizophrenia in those shows. Schizophrenics do not have multiple personalizes. That is not a thing. Well it is a thing, just a separate and unrelated thing that has nothing to do with us. Schizophrenics are not inherently violent. We are far more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators of it. It is not untreatable. Most schizophrenics are very functional with medication and therapy. Most lead fairly normal lives and you work with them every day and don't now it. That scary look your imagining, not usually. Schizophrenics almost all suffer from what is called a flattened emotional expression. Not a frantic emotional look. That can still be disturbing to people, but the guy that looks just bursting with crazy energy, different mental condition entirely. Or just a really unfortunate perception. We don't all believe some conspiracy about the government controlling us with secret mind control. There is a subset of Schizophrenia that presents with extreme paranoia, but not most. Ok, now onto what it actually is.

Now what is real about schizophrenia? I will only tell you my experience. I can't very well share others stories fairly after all. I have symptoms 100% of the time. About 75% of the time I have control of my conditions, and recognize them as symptoms to be dealt with logically. About 25% of the time I have hallucinations and delusions that are inseparable from reality to me, and believe them at that time. Obviously I am currently in my good place, or I couldn't write this clearly. I hear voices. 8 of them to be precise. I recognize each one as a separate person. All of them are A-holes. The voices constantly try to make me afraid of every little thing. "You are such a loser." "That coffee is poisoned." "That car is way to close they are going to crash into you." "Don't go out of that door, if you go outside IT will happen today, you'll regret it." "They all know you are crazy, can't you feel that, they all know." "He is about to attack you, watch out, here he comes." Or my personal favorite, "You know that you are that kind of crazy that is dangerous, you just don't know it , because you are to crazy to know, (self unalike) yourself and save everyone else." If you are familiar with a hype crew, think the opposite. But with the special insight of knowing what your fears really are at every moment. It sucks, and much of the time it feels 100% real. I also see things sometimes. Much less often, but still l00% believed at the time, they DO exist for me. Mainly I see shadowy figures that I just know are pure evil. Always just a flash, or out of the corner of my eye. They can never been fully "seen" or studied, but they scare the crap out of me every time. Full lock-down mode. Not leaving the house today. I don't even want to leave my chair. Even going to another room is terrifying sometimes. Other times , though not often at all, I have held full conversations with people that just didn't exist. I only realize later that it was false due to the absurdity of the conversation. I am certain that some of my life's memories, only existed in my head, and I still think they happened. Real memory for me.

I Suffer from deep depression most of the time. I have seriously thought about (self unaliving) many times, but have never attempted that. I have trouble with relationships because I ghost people for long periods until I recover. I have on rare occasion been full on crazy in front of people who didn't expect it, then they ghost me. When someone starts arguing with the air, naturally you bounce. Can't blame them. I have had people in my life take advantage of it. One of my exes used it to blackmail me into a very manipulative relationship. She would trigger me on purpose, just to appear the savoir to others and myself. Took me years to realize it, and longer to admit it couldn't be forgiven. In my youth I was the kid everyone picked on because I was too scared to fight back. The all day anti-hype crew will do that to you. It wasn't until high school that I changed that. I have impulse control issues. Usually good things, just taken too far. Several times in my life I have given everything I have to a person or group, then had to start over with nothing. Other times I have taken negative emotions too far. Punched holes in walls etc. I have never assaulted anyone, but have defended myself and others. Mainly I am just depressed because I know I will die alone, no one wants to deal with my schizophrenia, and I can't blame them. I resent the situation, but not the people.

Work. Yes, I worked my whole life. If anything I overworked. Staying busy helped keep symptoms at bay. So most of my life I worked more than 70-80 hours a week. Most of the people I worked with never knew I have schizophrenia. I was almost always one the best performers. I had to be. I often found myself in leadership positions even. Most people probably thought I was a weird. Maybe even aloof or full of myself, as I had to avoid any more socializing than absolutely needed just to mask my condition. I also tend to seem like I am not listening to others carefully, or placing value on their views. No, I am just hearing 9 people talk at once. Trust me I am putting much more effort into hearing you than you are into hearing me. I feel guilty about making others feel that way, so I work very hard at trying to make them feel respected and heard. Doesn't always come across that way, I know but I simply cannot risk sharing the fact that I am having a hard time following you because I am hearing many other voices at the same time. I did finally take disability at the age of 50 because of many factors. 1. My schizophrenia started getting much worse. I just can't focus long enough to finish a task reliably. 2. I also had many injuries, broken back, broken neck, lung issues, etc that just added up over time. 3. Performance. I couldn't keep up the high pace that I needed at work to distract from the symptoms. I am fully aware that I was only given a pass for my oddness because I would outperform the others by a mile. Couldn't do that anymore.

Relationships. Ah yes this is a fun one. Not really though, not at all. I have had many friendships and romantic relationships. Fewer friendships than most. More romantic partners than most. I tend have very close friends only. Sure I know people, but i don't really socialize much. Those friends I do have are really good people. Very close, but I don't spend much time with them. I really have a hard time being friends with someone who doesn't know that I have schizophrenia. It' shard to just disappear or refuse to go do something without explaining. And the explanation immediately scare 95% of all people. So I avoid that from the start usually. I have several newish friends, and 3 really great long term ones only. The kind of friends you can call at 2AM and will be at your house not 5 minutes more than it takes to drive there. Same back. Romantic relationships are harder. I have had an active dating life. but short term situations for the most part. As far as long term relationships, I have only had five. One marriage, which lasted for 15 years. Well longer if you consider the fact that I married her twice. Schizophrenia is apparently not my only mental issue. Each relationship was plagued by my schizophrenia. My tendency to always be at work was problem number one. Until I got older I honestly thought that this was a good thing. That I was using my condition to be a better provider. I was not. I was absent. Also, no matter how ready you think you might be, a partner who just suddenly withdraws for days is a nightmare. I would tend to go from almost love bombing on my good days to isolating to my computer room most days for no apparent reason. Not a stable or reliable relationship that many would chose. I get that.

The meds. Holy hell have the meds been a nightmare too. I have tried no less than 40 different meds to control my symptoms. I finally found a good few that work, but it has been a journey. I have had meds that did nothing. I have had meds that caused ED. I have had meds that made me so nervous I constantly felt like I had drunk 5 energy drinks and 2 pots of coffee. I have had meds that caused intense thoughts of self harm. Meds that caused me to be so drugged I could barely walk, or stay awake. Meds that just made simple decisions impossible to reach. Meds that made every meal taste like aluminum foil and cardboard. Meds that made it feel like ants were crawling under my skin. Meds that increased my hallucinations 3 fold. Etc. You name it. The search for the right meds is a real challenge. Adding to that, is that one simple "bad week" may cause your provider to just start changing things all over again, and actually reverse progress. Even something as random as pain meds for a broken bone might suddenly throw the meds off and here comes a surprise visit from the hallucination fairy. When I had lung surgery I asked the nurse to please get the service dog out off my room because it barked too much. There was no service dog, but fentanyl does react with my antipsychotics apparently. Imagine her surprise. And yes, even medical professionals get suddenly terrified to find out their patient is a schizophrenic some times. She sure did.

So yes, schizophrenia is serious. For some it might be occasionally thinking they hear a voice form the other room, others a nonstop nightmare. If you have any questions feel free to ask. I offer a chance to ask those questions that would normally be considered rude. I am all good with whatever. I've grown a thick skin.

My Christian ex boyfriend recently started dating the person he told me not to worry about for our entire relationship. The only thing making me feel better is that I took his virginity and I know that now he wishes he saved it for marriage. Or for her. When we were breaking up he said he wished we never did anything.

I know it’s horrible but it feels like at least I got something he can’t take back.

Its starting to get problematic. Im clearly getting used by a girl I met on discord 2 days ago who doesnt give a fuck about me but wants my affection. At begining we were talking about really interesting things music and writing and she was involved in the convo but now she’s so dry, and it comes me, who has social anxiety.

Then I tell her its ok if she doesnt want to speak to me anymore, but then she suddenly say that she does wants to talk to me, and proceeds to be dry again. She told me she loves affection and want cuddles type shi Ive been craving for my entire life.

And now Im still talking to her desesperatly hoping for her to show me affection in return but she doesnt give a fuck. And Im already too attached to her anyway.

Needed to get this out of my chest.

I know the heading is really bad but I promise it’s not as horrible as it sounds. I (25F) have a “crush” on my guitar instructor (34M). Why the quotations you may ask? Because this crush made me see that it was deeper than attraction. All this time I’ve been trying to figure myself out and it took this for me to truly understand a side of me that I’ve never been able to make sense of. This is kinda long so, bear with me

So going back a few years when I was 19, I was in my first “relationship”. It was a LDR that lasted 2 years and lemme tell ya, it was rough. Not because of the distance. But the mental toll it took on me lasted longer than I’d like to admit… 4 years. He started off seemingly sweet as most people do when they’re on their best behavior in the beginning. I grew up with a very religious upbringing and it had become very much apart of who I was, not just tradition to me. So I made it clear of my intentions and who I was upfront. He did not. Over time that grew to be a main point of contention, that, poor communication, and his lack of boundaries with other women. Many times he made it clear that I meant nothing to him while gushing over other girls and never even showing me he was even attracted to me like that. In my early teenage years I really struggled with self worth and identity and so when I finally gained confidence, along came someone (him) to destroy what little I had built. He called me weak often and constantly tried to tear down what little self esteem I had. It seemed like he hated everything about me. From my laugh to my musical taste. He once said that if I ever played the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in his car he’d kick my ass out of the car because he didn’t wanna hear that “white boy sh*t”. He often criticized my taste in rock, metal, country, or anything he considered “white people sh*t” even tho I like many genres. He even harassed me a whole 4 hours about a white guy at his college (yes a college student being this immature) because he posted a video making fun of the guy for having a rolling backpack and I defended him. Asked me several times if I want to suck the guy off and other disturbing nonsense. And one time he body shamed me so bad that I literally shaved everywhere and considered shaving my hair on my head in the back to minimize my neck hair. He made a comment about how gross he thought my body hair was. That the hairs on my arms and nape of my neck bothered him. But to make a long story a bit shorter, eventually my parents found out about him and I was shamed for keeping it a secret, albeit being 19 and technically grown. I was actually in hindsight so glad that happened because my dad was more upset at how I was suffering in silence and in his words being ‘abused’. That struck me differently. I had been abused, without a single hand striking me? Of course I knew other forms of abuse existed I just never correlated his treatment to being that. I always told myself I just made him upset or that when he talked about me and things I liked, that he was just joking around. But all of those things stung and made me feel more uncomfortable in my own body than I’ve ever been. He tried contacting me on several different occasions years apart until I deleted every social media I had, email, and changed my number. I had been nothing but a vessel for 4 whole years. Avoiding people. Avoiding men specifically. Experiencing homelessness and trying to pick up the pieces and find myself. 

Flash forward to last year. I decided to do all the things (hobbies) that I stopped doing/caring about in life. Roller skating, painting, animating, dancing, singing, and yes, guitar. I hadn’t played the guitar seriously in years and when I tried going it alone, I struggled to grasp concepts. So I went searching for a teacher. Eventually I found one. Very knowledgeable guy. Had a really great approach to the guitar that went well with my learning style. And he was cute… not conventionally but cute to me. After working with him for a couple weeks I immediately didn’t want to study with him anymore. I wanted something more. I was just trying to work up the nerve to ask him out. That’s when I was hit in the head with a huge bright red stop sign. He mentioned his wife one day. And I immediately felt like someone punched me in the gut lol. I had been making all these plans of how I’d tell him I was interested and just like that. Boom! Now over the year long course of being taught by him, the crush never went away. It only deepened. He was considerate, helpful, sweet, and generous with his time and ear. We never really talked outside of music until around holiday time. And I thought that maybe we could be friends. But after Christmas things went back to strictly music. He never showed interest in me romantically, never said anything out of the way, always talked about his wife (even rushed the out of lesson/study time sometimes so he could cook her dinner before she got home from work. He gave me advice on my health and dealing with life/work balance as I felt overwhelmed with everything on my plate outside of my hobbies. And all of those things only deepened my feelings. And the thing is? He treated all of his students like that. I wasn’t special. And for some reason, I loved that. I recently departed from being his student as life has gotten more stressful and I couldn’t really juggle both my hobby and it well anymore. And I felt super sad about it. That’s when I wasn’t so sure if I had a “crush” on him or if it was something deeper. Like yeah we shared a lot in common, he was attractive to me and had amazing looking pecs (his moobies were 10/10) but I loved how SEEN he made me feel. I wasn’t an invisible unlovable worm in his eyes that wasn’t worthy of connection. I was not a woman he wanted to rail. I wasnt seen as a young dumb woman who needed pity from an older man (I say older because the slight age gap not that I think 34 is old lol) but I was seen as HUMAN. And that meant a lot to me. So I’m sorry for the long ass storytime. I just wanted to get it off my chest. I’ve been destroyed for the past few years and this taught me that all I really wanted was to feel seen. To feel human. 

Although I won’t type his name because I don’t want anyone to find him because he’ll know for sure it’s me lol. 

Hey man, if you’re reading this, I really appreciate everything you did for me and showed me. I’ll always remember you and the kindness you exhibited. People like you give this cruel dark world a little light. Thanks for loving on other humans the way you do. I wish you love and life more abundantly. 

Sincerely,

With love and finger callouses,

Your former student

When I was a kid I had compulsive masturbating behavior at the time it happened I (I had approx ten) didn't even know how to masturbate properly and it was just dry humping like with the palm of my hand, also I didn't have my own private space, I slept with my parents so I didn't know what privacy was also in that time my cousins and me used to take showers togheter Wich my family always've seen as normal

Well my cousin went on vacation to my house he was around 9 and I was around 10, we were talking and we were in the same bed, but at the time I was dry humping myself, I had a blanket on I don't know if he saw me but I think he did I feel terrible I've been depressed because of that since thirteen or r

Fourteen that is when I understood what I did was terribly wrong, approx a year later (I was 11) another cousin came to my house, so we were in different rooms, but I was with the door opened and desafortunatily I started dry humping myself I didn't notice but he saw me, then he Js said he was going to forget he saw that

I feel terribly bad and guilty, I didn't know that it was wrong I didn't want to hurt anyone I feel terrible

it wasn’t always this way. i used to absolutely hate it when i’d go outside to visit some shops and come across a smoker, catching a whiff of their toxic stink cloud. accidentally inhaling the chemicals caused immediate offense to my airways and i’d start gagging but now it’s like something switched inside me. i welcome it when my nostrils are flooded with those sharp scents that now seem sweet to me. i immediately feel relaxed too upon drawing it all in and it feels totally intoxicating. i don’t know what happened to me but man am i gonna be fucked if i ever pick up the habit. i find myself fantasizing about it a bit, either smoking a cig myself or just standing there and allowing someone to exhale the fumes into my face. i know it’s gross and i know the damage it causes but it’s got me rather seduced 

After briefly looking at this sub I realize that this isn’t really that crazy, but I love going down on my partners and would say pretty confidently that my coochie eating prowess is that of super star quality HOWEVER COMMA the texture/viscosity of the arousal fluids made (moreso in vast quantity) makes me want to puke. I’m suffering from success :(

This person doesn’t know I know who they are. They don’t know who I am. This person is awesome to work with and I respect them. We have a 100% professional relationship. They are married. I feel like I should never bring it up and call it a day.