Anonymous venting

In a relationship that seems perfect from the outside, it's funny how there can be an undercurrent of secrets just beneath the surface. My boyfriend, Jake, is everything I thought I'd ever wanted: charming, funny, and incredibly attentive. He knows how to make me laugh, how to listen when I need to vent, and he seems to genuinely care about my feelings. But there’s a layer of my life that he knows nothing about, and I question whether I should ever reveal it to him. Have you ever felt trapped by your own secrets, teetering on the edge of wanting to share but terrified of the fallout?

For the past year, I’ve been living with a burden that’s becoming increasingly heavy. Before I met Jake, I had a different life filled with reckless choices and a wild side that is almost entirely hidden from him. When I think about those times, I can't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. I was carefree but also naïve, often putting myself in precarious situations that could have gone horribly wrong. It was the kind of life that seemed exciting at the time but ultimately lacked substance. As I delve into this side of myself, I realize how juxtaposed it is with the woman I’ve become since being with him. Would he still love me if he discovered what I had done, or would he see me in a completely different light, one that I can’t control?

The catalysts for my decision to hide this side of me were many. My past includes nights out that ended in chaos, relationships that were toxic, and moments where I put myself at risk, all in the name of fun and adventure. But I want to be seen as a responsible adult, someone who has their life on track. I carefully crafted a narrative to present to Jake; one where I’m a woman who’s made some mistakes but has learned from them, rather than a wild child who danced on the edge of danger. I often wonder if I'm betraying his trust by not being transparent about my history. Is holding back information simply an act of self-preservation, or is it a deceitful act in itself?

Moreover, I often find myself questioning the future we might have together. Will this secret haunt me, or at some point, will I feel compelled to share the truth? When we talk about our dreams and plans for the future, I can see us building a life together filled with happiness and love. But will I always carry the fear of him finding out on my shoulders? Would his perspective on ‘us’ change if he knew the entirety of my past? I can't help but to think: how would you respond if you found out your partner had a side they kept hidden? Would you view them through a lens of judgment or understanding, or would it make you question their integrity?

The thing is, I love Jake and appreciate the stability he brings to my life, but the shadows of my past loom over me, whispering that I am not the person he thinks I am. There’s a nagging sense of hypocrisy in presenting myself as someone who’s grown past that old life when parts of me still feel that urge for freedom and recklessness. Still, I choose to remain silent, at least for now. The thought of losing him terrifies me more than my own memories. Yet I am left wondering: is it fair to keep this piece of myself hidden, or is a relationship built on half-truths worth having at all?

Dear mummy,

words can't even begin to describe the kind of pain it is to be your daughter. I've known you my whole life yet I've completely failed to understand you and why you choose to be the way you are. I've failed to understand your refusal to take accountability for the problems you continue to create within our family.

I understand that you were born in a different time where abuse was a style of parenting, and where children were seen but not heard. I understand that you were raised to think that these sort of things were okay. but in your 50 years of living how have you failed to see that this behaviour you continue to do is exactly what's affecting your relationship with your children. A relationship you so desperately want yet refuse to fight for. I don't understand why you're afraid of your children leaving you when you're older, but you refuse to care and nourish them while they're still here with you. aren't you contradicting yourself mummy? why do you make it your life's mission to create division between the children in this family and the turn around and ask us to be united and love one another. are you not being a hypocrite mummy? why do you continue to coddle the boys in the family and forbid them from lifting a finger, and then turn around and blame us girls when they behave like selfish, inconsiderate bastards. Was it me who raised them mummy? I don't think you understand the kind of environment you created for us mummy.

I was raised in a house where I wasn't allowed to make mistakes. a place where my opinions didn't matter. a home where facts were void because you're the only one who could ever be right. I can't even count the amount of times where you made me feel so ashamed for existing in the body I do. If it wasn't my weight that was the issue, it was my gender, and if it wasn't that then it was the fact that I was unfortunate enough to look like my father. You quite literally raised me to hate myself! but on the few occasions you take an interest interest in what I have to say, you act surprised when I tell you that I don't really like the way I look. One time you actually had the audacity to ask me why I wasn't confident in myself like the other kids. I even specifically remember you asking me why we're not close, and why I don't tell you things. You expect me to behave like a child who was raised in a home where her voice mattered, a place where her questions weren't dismissed as disrespect. but honestly mummy your like a sculptor who never touched the clay but demands a masterpiece. And for that I will never forgive you, no matter how much I love you.

I used to believe you'd change, but time and time again you proved me wrong. I hope you know that all those times we argued and disagreed on what you were doing, I was trying to mend to our relationship. I hope you understand that all those times I was being a "disrespectful child" who "talked back to her elders", I was hoping you'd understand that I fought because I wanted a relationship with you. But now I understand that you are simply too proud to change. Too proud to even consider that maybe you went about motherhood the wrong way. But it's ok. Knowing this has honestly freed me. I'm no longer the girl who's filled with jealousy when I see my friends have fulfilling relationships with their mothers. I'm no longer the girl whose eyes fill with tears when I see someone on TV who reminds me of you. Because at least now I know where we stand.

Sincerely your daughter

No I'm not the Joker. I had an unnecessary argument with some trolls online. It made me realize that I hate how everyone's an asshole and no one wants to have conversations or be civil. Even is always in the right even if they're wrong, especially influencers, they can't take accountability for their actions at all. I hate how billionaires get a free pass on taxes while some people in my country are debating between rent and food. I wanna go back to pre-iPhone era or go back to when we had trains. To be honest, I'd rather not exist at all.

My parents are very religious like extremely and they just found out I vape. They were really mad and tried to take it away from me so I told them no and kept it. We haven’t really been talking since then she keeps telling me I need to confess to god and that I’m a sinner but I don’t want to quit vaping it helps with my anxiety so

What do I do?

Too exhausted and drained of energy from a relationship filled with deep affection and forbidden love. It often feels like all the effort in this relationship is one-sided. I always give, but never receive anything in return. The love bombing phase has ended. There was a time when I felt genuinely loved and cared for wholeheartedly. We both already have partners and children. We only meet in person at work, in the office. The relationship began when we started sharing stories about our lives, which eventually developed into something more intimate. The love bombing phase was the most beautiful period—it felt like being young again, like a first love. The relationship was full of excitement, with a constant desire to meet and be together. Every effort was made just to stay close, no matter what. It felt like I couldn’t live without them.

But lately, what I feared has started to happen. Their true nature is beginning to show. They lie often and look for reasons to start fights—just so they can spend time with others, which they never used to do before. They’ve also been interacting frequently with their ex, claiming it’s purely professional. However, they were once caught alone together in a car in a parking lot. I don’t know what they were doing—they claimed they were just going to grab a meal together. They’re increasingly working together on the same projects. They seem very enthusiastic when talking about this ex, who holds a high position in the company. They seem to admire them a lot. But they always get extremely angry when I bring it up, which only makes me more suspicious.

The more I express my doubts, the more they lash out—yelling and twisting the facts. They bring up my past mistakes but refuse to acknowledge their own. I love them deeply, so I’ve often ignored their faults and let things slide. But over time, it’s become too frequent and too much to handle. It's started affecting my mental health, making me lose motivation in both work and daily life.

What’s most disturbing is that they don’t let me interact with others. They don’t allow me to go out with friends, yet they often socialize with other men. I don’t know what to do anymore. Right now, I’m in a very sad place and don’t feel like doing anything at all.

Hey everyone, I’m not usually one to air my personal stuff, but I really need some advice here. For the past few months, I’ve had this gut feeling that my wife might be cheating on me, and it's eating me alive. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the signs are starting to pile up, and I’m just not sure what to do.

It all started when she began staying late at work more often. At first, I didn’t think much of it—she’s always been dedicated to her job. But then, she became super protective of her phone. She used to leave it lying around, but now she keeps it close and seems to be on it all the time, even at odd hours. And when I casually ask about her day, her answers feel...vague? Like she’s hiding something.

Then there are the little things. She started dressing up more than usual, even just to “run errands” or meet friends. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone. I’ve tried to brush it off, telling myself I’m being paranoid, but every time I bring it up, she gets defensive or says I’m just being insecure. It makes me feel like maybe I’m overthinking, but part of me feels like my concerns are valid.

To make things worse, I found a receipt for a fancy dinner that she said was a "work thing," but I know her company usually doesn’t do dinners like that. I keep second-guessing myself, and now I’m stuck in this loop of anxiety. I don’t want to accuse her without solid proof, but I also can’t keep living in this uncertainty.

So here I am, asking for advice. Has anyone else been through this? How do you confront someone you love without it turning into a huge fight? Should I even bring it up again, or am I just being paranoid? Any advice would be appreciated—I feel like I’m losing my mind here.

For the longest time, I’ve been stuck in this cycle of excuses. I’d wake up every morning telling myself I’d make changes, that today would be different, but by the time the day ended, I was back to square one. Whether it’s eating healthier, exercising, or even just cleaning my space, I keep putting it off. I’d tell myself, "I’ll start tomorrow," but tomorrow never seems to come.

Yesterday was my breaking point. I was scrolling through social media and saw an old friend post about running their first marathon. I remember how we used to run together, how much I loved it back then. And now? I can’t even jog up the stairs without feeling winded. It hit me like a ton of bricks—what am I even doing with my life? Why do I keep finding reasons to avoid what I know I need to do?

I looked around my apartment after that. Clothes piled up on the floor, dishes in the sink from who-knows-how-many days ago, and a gym membership card collecting dust on the counter. That’s when it finally clicked—it’s time to stop. It’s time to stop avoiding the hard stuff, time to stop pretending everything will fix itself, and time to stop being my own worst enemy.

I don’t have a perfect plan yet, and honestly, I’m scared I’ll slip back into my old habits. But I know I can’t keep going like this. If I don’t make a change now, when will I? Maybe writing this out will help me stay accountable. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re feeling stuck too, maybe it’s time to stop and take the first step. We’ve got this.

I've come to the harsh realization that perhaps, I'm not the nicest person around. In my mid-thirties, I find myself surrounded only by a single friend and a girlfriend, yet I can't shake the feeling that I'm somehow superior to others. My lifestyle is quite reclusive; I shy away from any social gatherings related to work, and most of my routine revolves around my job, hitting the gym, smoking weed, and cycling. Traveling and cycling in the forest are my escapes, the rare times I don't feel swamped by depression.

Interacting with people, especially in groups, is a daunting task for me. The fear of turning red-faced and being judged negatively is always lurking. Thus, I avoid such situations altogether. There's a worrisome intensity in the way I live; I indulge too often in alcohol or getting high, viewing people merely as elements that enhance my own existence. My eyes wander too freely, admiring every attractive woman I come across, often blatantly flirting in the presence of my girlfriend. Even though these thoughts are never vocalized, I often catch myself belittling others or feeling utter disdain towards them internally.

I confess to being a staunch atheist, holding a disdainful view towards those who are spiritually inclined, believing myself to be smarter, better-looking, and stronger. The resentment builds whenever I see someone possessing what I desire, although I manage to keep this anger bottled up within.

Dominating these emotions is a profound sense of isolation, mixed oddly with a perverse comfort in wallowing in my misery. Sometimes, hurting my own feelings seems like a twisted form of pleasure, perhaps because it means feeling something at all.

My family background does little to lighten my outlook. My brother lives with the dark shadow of being a murderer and a former heroin addict. My father was a violent man, devoid of emotions, who ultimately took his own life. My mother, afflicted by illness so severe that she has been bedridden since my childhood, sparks a guilt within me for not taking care of her. However, I've chosen a path of self-preservation as dedicating myself to her care would consume my own existence entirely.

This life I've crafted for myself is one I despise, yet a part of me feels I shouldn't. With a good education, a well-paying job, and an undeniable appeal to women, I should feel fulfilled. Instead, I’m left feeling empty and, frankly, disgusted with myself for sounding like a self-pitying fool. What the hell is wrong with me?

Despite my efforts not to belittle others overtly, the impression that people don’t like me is hard to shake off. Loneliness is a constant companion.

If I were to join a reality show, my character might be polarizing. Would the audience appreciate my brutally honest introspections, or would they be repelled by my self-confessed arrogance and emotional detachment? It's intriguing yet terrifying to ponder how my persona would unfold under the constant scrutiny of cameras and a public audience.

I chose the friendship stories category but yeah it's related to friendship, love, family, work... I am like that.

I grew up in a very religious family where our faith has always guided our lives and choices. The teachings I’ve known my whole life tell me that being gay is wrong, and yet, I feel these undeniable attractions that make me question everything. I’ve tried to push it down, to change, to pray it away, but it’s always there, a part of me I can’t ignore.

I don’t know how to reconcile my beliefs with who I am. It feels like every day, I’m torn between two worlds: the expectations of my family and faith, and the reality of my own heart. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Is this something I can change, or should I even try? I’ve heard so many opinions, but deep down, I just want to know if I can truly be at peace with both my faith and myself.

If anyone has gone through something similar, or if you have advice, I’d really appreciate hearing from you. I feel so lost and alone in this struggle, and I just need someone to help me see a way through this.

Being a mom is the most rewarding and terrifying thing I’ve ever done. My little girl is only two years old, but every single day, I find myself wondering: am I doing enough? How to be a good mother when it feels like there’s so much to figure out?

Some days, I feel like I’m nailing it. We play together, she laughs at my silly songs, and I can see how happy she is. But then there are moments when I feel like I’m completely failing. Like yesterday, when I lost my temper because she spilled juice on the carpet after I told her three times not to run around with her cup. She cried, and it broke my heart because all I could think about was, “What kind of mom yells at a two-year-old over juice?”

I read parenting blogs and watch videos on how to raise happy, confident kids, but it’s overwhelming. There’s so much advice out there, and half of it feels contradictory. Be strict, but not too strict. Let them explore, but set boundaries. Make healthy meals, but don’t stress if they eat nuggets and fries once in a while. I’m trying to do it all, but is that even possible?

I see other moms who seem to have it all together—perfectly dressed kids, Pinterest-worthy lunches, and spotless homes. Meanwhile, I’m just proud if I can get her to daycare on time with matching socks. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re struggling too and just hiding it better.

I love my daughter more than anything, and I want her to grow up feeling loved, supported, and safe. But how do I know if I’m doing it right? Is there some magic formula on how to be a good mother, or is it just about showing up every day and doing your best?

If anyone has advice or has felt this way too, I’d love to hear it. I’m trying so hard, but some days it feels like I’m just fumbling through.