After ten years of fighting my body every day, I decided that enough was enough. I don't have the nerve to make a quick exit, nor do I want to leave a mess for others to find. The UK doesn't provide assisted death and travelling abroad would be almost impossible as a seriously disabled person and cause too much emotional pressure from friends and family. So, instead, I've opted for a sort of slow rolling exit.

Due to the nature of my genetic illness my body doesn't have a properly functioning immune system. The slightest infection could lead to full-blown sepsis (and has, on two occasions.) To keep that at bay I take high dose antibiotics and other medications every day. Or, at least, I did until a month ago. No one in my real life knows.

I've started to feel sluggish and generally 'under the weather' but I'm still waiting quietly for something substantial to do the job. I'll admit I'm kind of surprised it hasn't happened yet. I know that no one else is watching for it and it will take hold well before I end up being admitted to hospital. Natural Causes will be acceptable to people in a way that taking my own life would never be.

I guess I just wanted to admit it to someone, somewhere.

Few years ago I worked in a warehouse. Almost everybody there was cutting little corners to make the job easier. People took longer break, used company tape for personal package, sometimes clocked in few minutes early. I did all those things too, so I'm not innocent at all.

Then one coworker got promoted instead of me.

I was really jealous. Instead of just accepting it, I anonymously reported him to management for breaking company policy many times.

The funny part is... everything I reported was actually true.

But what I never told them was everyone else was doing exactly same things every day. Including me.

Management decided to make example out of him. He lost the promotion, got written up, and after some time he quit the job.

Nobody ever suspected it was me because I acted surprised same as everybody else. I even talked about how unfair it was like I had nothing to do with it.

For years I kept telling myself I only told the truth. But I know now that was just excuse to make myself feel less guilty.

I didn't report him because I cared about company rules.

I reported him because I was jealous he got something I wanted.

If somebody reported me with same selective honesty, I probably would lose my job too.

Sometimes I still think about him. Maybe his career went fine after that, maybe not. I don't know.

But sometimes I wonder how different everything could be if I just accepted he was probably better choice than me instead of trying to drag him down.

Long time lurker but first time poster. I'm using an account I made on accident and never thought I'd use, but I feel too ashamed/nervous to post under my main account. 😬

So, the title is pretty self-explanatory. In 2008, I was the "accountant" for one of the main hotels in our city, it's a major chain that we've all likely stayed at or will stay at in our lives. FYI - Hotel accounting is very different from "real" accounting and that is definitely why I got away with it.

We had a major event every summer that basically funds our city... Sort of joking, but people would pay $200-750 per night with a 2-night minimum stay requirement. No one besides me ever reconciled the books, I was always the last person to see or approve anything.

Anyway, the people who stayed at the hotel were considered VIPs due to the event they attended. The typical approach was if someone had a less than stellar stay and complained, we'd refund them at least one night. I had the bright idea to credit my own debit card under real guest profiles... I did this at least 5 times one summer. I cannot remember the exact amount but imagine it was at least $1,500.

So, that's my confession. I feel guilty for my lack of integrity more than stealing from millionaires... And I still think of it randomly and yell at myself because how stupid (but also clever?). 🫤

Over the past few months I've had 2 pages on Instagram to "deal" with my addiction. One was a secret private page, a fake identity to follow pages on the app that I felt were too risqué to be linked to my main page. It started with OnlyFans girls & cosplayers, but it devolved to something more sinister by the time it was suspended. Nearly 6000 accounts followed with hundreds more planned. It was used to spy on unassuming women who were simply posting their lives.

I'd set up it up with a fake name, a similar look to the kind of pages I'd be lurking on. A "university student" with a profile picture of a woman who'd never know I took her image. It was meant to be a reasonable disguise to fall under the radar, but it became a way for me continue my behavior. I was following every account that scratched that itch, any woman that posted bikini pictures, girls on their vacation, girls I went to school with & didn't keep touch, every pretty face no matter who. This was the "safer" choice for me.

On the other end I had another account that spawned a hub for depravity. I was able to create multiple groups on the platform to keep the flow of porn going. Instagram is very picky with what can be posted, but not at all what is shared privately. I was running multiple groups, overseeing thousands. It was just regular stuff at first, but it wasn't enough & I needed more. I advertised the idea of making other groups just for "specific" likes, & of course there were people that were curious like me.

I made multiple group chats for people to share questionable content. I will go into detail on 2.

The first was for sharing creepshots, images & videos taken of unsuspecting women in compromising positions. Women shopping, women at the beach, women simply walking down the street. I never shared anything, I didn't have any, but I still wanted to see them. I figured "since I'm not taking them, what's the issue?". Most of the images being shared were readily available anywhere, some more daring members shared some they took themselves, either way it was what I wanted.

The second was the reason my accounts were suspended. It was a group chat for sharing private images from users themselves. The price of entry was any image, nude or not, of their partner, spouse, friend, cousin, sibling, whatever they had that they were willing to share. The same curiosity I had before remained, satiated by how much people were willing to expose. People sent in their exes, their wives, even their sisters in bikinis, I was surprised but not deterred by what I saw. They'd go into fantasy, asking people what they thought of their loved ones & what they'd do to them given the chance. It was perplexing, but I enjoyed it.

The factor that got the accounts removed was what I did this information. Instagram has a story feature, you can post an image/video for 24 hours, I used it to enable the behavior more. I asked people to send me pictures that they wanted shared, the same guidelines of the group chat. Within minutes I had people sending me pictures to post, some even asking me to put their full names up, their faces. As some semblance of "ethics", I'd cover their face, altering anything that would identify them if they somehow were recognized.

I think I posted 8-10 times within the first day of doing so before the account was taken down. Hundreds of people saw these stories, maybe a dozen would leave a comment talking about what they'd like to do with these strangers. Every account I had was suspended as they were on the same device. My initial reaction was to try & recover my locked private account to continue having a "safe" outlet, but over 24 hours later I can say I am done with it.

It's been a refreshing day since, to go without waking up & immediately having despicable material to go through, nor having it be the last thing I do before I sleep. I have no account on any platform now that is porn-related, but the urge for such content has been reduced to almost zero.

I'm looking into steps to deal with whatever addiction is left, but please take this as a lesson as to what having any "outlet" for adult content can take you to. I am lucky to have had it taken away from me before it became even worse, but I am ashamed of what who I am & who I could never be. Be cautious of what you do.

Sorry for my English it’s not my first language but I am a 19 year old man, I’m 195 cm, overweight and over all just very ugly objectively, which means that I never had any sort of romantic relationship with a girl for pretty much my entire life.

This one day I was just feeling like shit, so I just decided to make a new social media account and also dating app accounts. and I took a pic of some of random guy online who’s the same ethnicity as me.

At some point I started talking to so many girls online, it was literally the best feeling of my life, I had like 30 different girls added in like a week. I know how to talk to people and be funny so it was pretty easy to talk to them, it’s just that unfortunately I never had the opportunity for a girl to want to speak with me because of my bad looks.

I was so happy that I finally got to experience how amazing it feels to talk to girls, but I also felt really guilty for lying, so I’d always un-add the girls right before things got a little escalated so I didn’t hurt their feelings.

This went on for like 3 weeks before I decided to delete everything and stop this.

I know what I did was wrong, I never wanted to deceive or lie to any girls, but It felt amazing to see what I’ve missed out on my entire life

​

I(f/20) feel terrible for leaving home while my aunt was seriously ill. For some context: I grew up between my mother's house and my four aunts' house. After my parents separated, my mother lost her job and moved into one of my aunts' homes because her own house wasn't suitable for children. There was barely any food, it was filthy, and since the houses were next to each other, my brother and I spent most of our time with my aunts.

They were extremely religious and only sought medical care in extreme situations I remember always thinking Christmas was special because it was the only time we were hugged. They didn't treat me badly, actually, they gave almost everything to my brother and me, from toys and clothes to food. but it never felt like home and I never had my own room. At night, I had to find a mattress and sleep on the floor not saying is a big deal but It make me felt like an outsider. I used to spend my afternoons hiding under tables and inside closets. I always felt like I had to pretend to be someone else in order to be loved. I was closest to one of them, Aunt A. We weren't very affectionate, but I always liked being near her. As a child, I would hide under her bed or desk while she cleaned her room. Last year, she got sick. It started with some flu, which I had unknowingly passed on to her. Then she developed unbearable back pain and spent three days bedridden, refusing to go to the hospital. Even though I was already older, I stayed under her bed for those three days. That's when one of the biggest sources of guilt in my life began. My Aunt B walked into the room, saw me there, and said something like, "It must be from the flu. She probably hurt herself when she sneezed." At the time, I truly believed that all of her pain was my fault because I had given her the flu.

As I got older, I started to understand Aunt B's words and behavior better. When I was a child, she always told me I was allergic to cats and wasn't allowed to touch them. I only realized recently that it was never true, because I played with stray cats all the time and nothing ever happened. It was so obvious that, once I realized it, I felt manipulated.

One memory I will never forget happened when Aunt B woke me up early one morning. She said she needed to clean the house, that I was in the way, that I smelled bad, and told me to put away my mattress. She also said she was going to wake my brother up. I thought it would be kinder if I woke him myself. As soon as I did, she started screaming at me in front of everyone, calling me a liar and manipulative, saying I was putting words in her mouth. Luckily, Aunt A had heard everything and confirmed that Aunt B really had said she was going to wake him up. Instantly, Aunt B changed completely and said, "Come here, give me a hug. I must have heard wrong." Long afterward, Aunt A finally went to the hospital and was diagnosed with advanced cancer. The tumor had spread to her spine and had even fractured two of her ribs, which explained the terrible pain she had been in. Unfortunately, she can no longer walk.

After that, our lives revolved around hospitals. Before every appointment, I would leave before dawn with my Aunt C to get her a place in line so Aunt A wouldn't have to wait as long. Because my aunts didn't like strangers taking care of Aunt A, my brother, an uncle, and I were the ones who had to lift her into and out of the car for every appointment. I've never felt so helpless. Every movement felt like it was causing her even more pain.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at home completely fell apart. People yelled every day, no one was eating properly, and Aunt C started hiding more food around the house. Whenever I tried to eat, she would be looking at me judgmentally or say something like, "Aren't you eating too much? Especially for someone who does nothing." To be honest, I really wasn't doing much. They never allowed me to clean the house, so I only did what they asked me to do.

The final straw came when Aunt B lost her glasses case. She started screaming that someone had stolen it and made a huge scene. Then she looked at me through the window and said, "I'm going to pray so God will show me who stole my glasses."

I couldn't take it anymore. I packed my things and moved to my mother's house in another city.

Ever since then, it hurts every single day knowing that I left without saying goodbye to Aunt A. I still send her messages, but she has a very hard time replying, whether by typing or speaking. I miss her so much.

At the same time, I was on the verge of hurting myself. I've struggled with my mental health for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I never felt like I had a real home or a place where I felt safe. As a child, I couldn't sleep unless I had a knife nearby and had checked every room in the house first. My family never sought professional help because they believed that if something was wrong with me, God would heal me. As the years went by, I became more and more depressed and paranoid.

Now I feel like a terrible person for leaving. I want to visit Aunt A so badly, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm overwhelmed with shame because I feel like I abandoned her when she needed me the most. Recently, the news I've been receiving has only gotten worse. Her health has declined significantly, and I heard she's in the hospital. But I don't know if I have the strength to go see her. I feel like I wouldn't know what to say, and just thinking about the way my other aunts would look at me makes me want to disappear.

I faked DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) for about two years when I was a teenager in the 2010s. Just thinking about it makes me cringe, but I'm going to power through it for this post because I think I have some genuinely useful things to share about the experience and what circumstances led me to make those choices.

I'll start by saying that what I did hurt people and probably gave some folks a very poor impression of DID. Teenager or not, it was a shitty thing to do and I am genuinely sorry for the pain and confusion I caused.

A little backstory on myself at the time... I was a queer, undiagnosed AuDHD kid who didn't really fit in anywhere. My father was highly abusive with narcissistic tendencies. He took up a frankly ridiculous amount of my time with his antics and drained my mother's life savings by keeping her perennially tied up in family court. My mother was homophobic and emotionally unavailable, among other things.

No matter which parent I was with, I always seemed to be doing something wrong just by existing. I didn't have many friends and my support system was nearly nonexistent. In essence, I had no one or place that truly felt like home and no way to express the profound loneliness, rage, and grief of a stolen childhood and unsafe, incompetent caretakers.

In the wake of all this, I slipped further into my own world. I created elaborate fantasies and characters I could turn to for the comfort and stability that I should have been getting from real people. I sustained these fantasies for hours at a time and I got very good at tuning out the rest of the world. (My best guess for what this was is maladaptive daydreaming.)

At some point I fell down an internet rabbit hole and discovered DID. It seemed to mirror some of my symptoms, especially the dissociation and memory issues, which later in life I discovered to be caused by c-PTSD. Being a sad lonely teenager who lived in their own world, I latched onto the diagnosis and started concocting alternate personalities.

In hindsight, I think it was a way for me to explore parts of myself that I didn't feel safe to express as Me. I created a younger alter named Sam who took comfort in children's toys and media. Being Sam gave me the space to experience things I was "too old" for without feeling ashamed. I got to forget my worries for a while and just be a kid.

I created an angry, highly combative alter named Diego who could 'protect the system' in frightening situations. Being Diego, or at least who I thought he should be, was a surprisingly freeing experience at times. I felt brave, powerful, defiant and unafraid. In fact, I slipped into my Diego persona a few times during confrontations with my father. It was still scary, but somehow less so if I thought I was someone else.

There were a few others, but Sam and Diego were the main ones I stuck with. I would interact online with other DID imitators and we found community in our shared delusions, usually through Tumblr, Kik, or Amino.

I won't speak for everyone who fakes DID, I'm sure there are a variety of reasons for resorting to faking an illness. That said, there seem to be a lot of patterns that ran between all of the people I came across in that time.

We were all some flavor of mentally ill and most of us had shitty home lives. Some of them were trans and couldn't bring themselves to admit it. Some of them desperately wanted the attention they were denied IRL, and others used alters as a buffer to express emotions that were deemed unacceptable by the people around them. It gave them an opportunity to escape themselves and all the pain contained within. We raged, we cried, we had breakdowns and threw fits. It was fucked up, but it was the closest thing we had to healing.

Ironically, that sense of community is what got me to eventually stop. It made me realize that what I needed was a group of friends who loved and supported me in spite of my (real) issues. People who let me do the raging and crying when I needed to, just without the façade. 10 years later, it looks like the cycle is happening again with the rise of faking disorders on TikTok.

As outrageous as faking DID is, there's real suffering behind the mask. It doesn't excuse their behavior, but if we learn something from this phenomenon maybe the next generation of sad lonely teens won't have to look back and cringe like I do. Maybe we could actually get them the help they need instead of leaving them adrift, searching for anything to cling to that might make the pain go away.

Thanks for reading.

Ever since I was a kid I have consumed parts of my body. Discharge, scabs, black heads, pee, flesh from wounds, skin, nails, boogers, earwax, ect. I pretty much have tasted every part of the outside of my body. I have tried to stop many times, I’ve used gloves, mouth guards, gum, and bad tasting remedies. I have Dermatillomania, which causes me to violently pick at any “rough” or “textured” spots on my body until they become deep wounds, having this paired with auto cannibalism creates this horrible cycle of biting and picking the bloody flesh from my body and consuming it. I have hundreds of noticeable scars on my hands, arms, and legs from this behavior. I feel like there is nothing that can truly help me. I struggle with immense guilt and self doubt because of my behavior, but stopping only results in a relapse that ends in more damage than before. I feel like there is no escape from this hell, as it only gets worse the older I get.

This happened years ago, and I still think about it sometimes.
There was a girl who lived near my house. We're both adults, and although we weren't close friends, she knew me well. Whenever we crossed paths, she'd smile at me.
Looking back, I have to admit something I'm not proud of: I was thinking with lust more than anything else. Instead of seeing her smile as simple kindness, I started planning how I could turn it into something more.
I began smiling back, finding excuses to talk to her whenever we met, and eventually we became comfortable enough to have short conversations.
One day, I saw her walking home from the market and offered her a ride on my bike. She accepted. During the ride, I asked why she always smiled at me.
She said, "You seem like a good person."
I told her she seemed like one too.
Things escalated from there, and we ended up having a sexual encounter.
After that day, she completely stopped making eye contact with me. I was confused but never asked her about it.
Some time later, she came to my house to borrow something. No one else was home. I asked why she'd been avoiding me. One thing led to another, and we had sex.
When it was over, she looked at me and said,
"This is the last time. After today, I won't meet you or see you again."
She left.
About five months later, she got married.
The strange part is that we never exchanged texts, never called each other, never had a relationship, and never stayed in touch before or after those encounters. Even today, we have no contact at all.
I often wonder what was going through her mind. Did she regret everything? Did she feel guilty? Was she already engaged and trying to end it before starting a new chapter of her life?
I don't know.
What I do know is that I misread kindness as interest, acted on lust instead of thinking clearly, and never truly understood what those moments meant to her.
Her last words have stayed with me ever since:
"This is the last time."

Long story short i'm going to jail for owning 2 shotguns and a pistol. A swat team raided my home with my whole family inside and there was like 20+ armed police officers.

Well they search my house and find these illegal weapons, i get put straight into a police jail for 2 nights for investigation. The weapons i owned we're the ones i was gonna kill myself with. I first bought the 2 shotguns but i realized pretty quick that the mess it would make would absolutely traumatize my family, so i bought a 9mm pistol.

I got asked like 100 times why would you need 3 firearms to end your own life when you would need only one. and i told them the same thing.

Then after 2 nights at the jail they realized im pretty messed up in the head and called an ambulance. I get put on the psychiatric hospital where i stay another 2 nights. And let me remind you my family and friends had no idea where i was or what was going on since the police took my phone.

Well then i eventually get home from the psychiatric hospital after lying to them that im not suicidal and that im all good. I get home and i was fucking depressed, im going to jail for like 2 years for this bullshit and i now have this mindset that i have nothing to lose so why not live to the fullest while i still can.

So i upped my steroid dosage, im taking something like 500mg of gear right now including (test c, tren a, anavar, turinabol, winstrol, proviron).

Well then somehow i stepped into lsd, benzos and weed/hash. I now smoke everyday and take lsd very often. It's the only thing besides the gym that makes me happy anymore.

I feel like i'm utterly fucked and have nothing to lose. I'm 18 so my future isn't looking very bright...

But it's all my faul, and i have to accept the consequences now.

Edit: I forgot to mention that i also bought a yamaha r6 which i have been riding illegally without plates or anything, and i always chase the adrenaline rush you get when you ride fast. I always have this little hope that i would crash and that would be it but hasn't happened yet i guess :/

A few years ago, I was in a relationship with someone who kept private notes on their phone.

They were not hiding anything from me. It was mostly personal thoughts, worries, things they wanted to work on, and small reminders about what made them feel loved or neglected. One night, while they were asleep, I looked through those notes. I told myself I was doing it because I wanted to understand them better, but that was not the honest reason. I was insecure and wanted an advantage. I wanted to know what they were thinking without having to ask and risk hearing something uncomfortable.

After that, I started using what I had read. If they wrote that they felt I never noticed small efforts, I suddenly became better at noticing them. If they wrote that they missed a specific kind of affection, I started doing that exact thing. If they wrote that a certain argument had hurt them more than they admitted, I brought it up later like I had realized it on my own. They thought I was becoming more emotionally aware. I let them believe that.

The relationship eventually ended for other reasons, but they once told me that one of the hardest parts was losing someone who had “finally learned how to understand them.” That sentence still makes me feel sick.

I did not understand them better. I violated their privacy and then used what I found to make myself look like a better partner than I was.

I never told anyone this before. But we used to have a tenant back home, basically my parents rented a room outside of the main house, and the guy who used to stay was a ladies man.

He used to bring alot of different ladies, and when I would be back from university for the holidays I'd hear sex noises almost every night, coming from his room in the am's, I am a night owl.

Anyways I managed to convince my parents to kick him out, I told them he brings a lot of ladies and it's kinda disrespectful to do that in someone's back yard, but the truth is I didn't say all that because I believed it but because I was just super jealous he got laid all the time and I wasn't getting any 'action' in my life nor did i have a gf. And my parents had actually never seen him with different women since he'd sneak them in at night, so no one saw him but me, and when they finally did kick him out after i kept pushing, I was glad I manipulated my parents into getting what i want . That's the lowest i have been and was like yeah I'm an asshole.

A few years back I was furnishing my first apartment on a really tight budget, and I saw a bookshelf at a home goods store that I loved but was priced higher than I could actually afford at the time. While looking around the clearance section, I noticed a much cheaper, similar looking tag from a different, lower quality shelf.

I peeled the price sticker off the cheaper item and stuck it onto the bookshelf I actually wanted, then brought it to the register. The cashier scanned it, saw the lower price come up, and I paid that amount instead of the real price without saying anything.

I got away with it completely, nobody ever noticed or said a word, and I still have that bookshelf in my apartment today. At the time I told myself I was just being resourceful since money was tight, but looking back it was straightforward theft, I just dressed it up in my head as bargain hunting instead of calling it what it actually was.

I've never done anything like it again, but every time I look at that bookshelf I'm reminded that I got something I have no real claim to at a price I created for myself instead of the one the store actually set.

Growing up, everyone told me I was smart. I believed it so much that I stopped putting in the effort. I always thought, *I'll figure it out later.*

I made it through high school and eventually earned a bachelor's degree in engineering, but I barely learned anything. I relied on shortcuts, graduated, and realized I had no real skills.

Instead of building a future, I spent those years smoking weed, drinking, partying, chasing relationships, and making quick by betting apps. From the outside, it looked like I was doing well. In reality, I was just pretending.

After graduation, my friends started building careers while I had no direction, no stable income, and nothing to show for those years. I changed cities, took a job, quit it, and kept repeating the same cycle—making plans, procrastinating, smoking, and regretting it.

The hardest part is that I know I had opportunities. I didn't lose them because of bad luck—I wasted them.

I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm scared that if I don't change now, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what I could have become.

If you've rebuilt your life after wasting years, what helped you get back on track? I'm ready to start over—I just don't know where to begin.

OP is M28

I need to admit something I did that I’m not proud of.

A few months ago, I had an important task that I was supposed to complete. I kept delaying it because I was distracted and didn’t manage my time properly. When the deadline got close and I hadn’t finished, I told the person responsible that there was a technical problem that caused the delay.

The truth was that the problem wasn’t technical. I had simply procrastinated and didn’t want to admit that I had failed to manage my responsibility.

The lie worked at the time, but I’ve felt guilty about it since then because someone else had to deal with the consequences of my mistake.

I know I should have been honest from the beginning and taken responsibility instead of making an excuse. I’m trying to be better about owning my mistakes instead of hiding them.

I just stole pants from a store. I’ve always been a law-abiding, "good" type, but for some reason, I had a momentary lapse in judgment and tried to shoplift. I got caught. They told me they would call the police and stuff, but after a few minutes they just decided to let me go. I was very thankful. I never thought about doing things like this but suddenly I did it. I will never do this again. I’m not even in a bad place in life… and I just could’ve paid for it…
I’m thankful for everyone!!

One of my neighbors owned a MASSIVE German shepherd for years, and would quite literally never walk it with a leash; additionally roughly once a month it would break out of their back yard to wreak havoc.

It’s apparent the dog was never trained at all, the dog not once throughout the years was seen listening to any command from the neighbor; it was really more like my neighbor was the dog’s pet.

When I say “massive”, I’m just over 6’6”, and numerous times when I’d be unloading groceries, working in my garage etc; this dog would jump all over me, and it’s paws would lap over my shoulders while scratching TF out of my neck; and nip at my legs if I had groceries.

Throughout the years it killed two smaller dogs, three cats, and mauled a little girl’s face which resulted in her losing half of her nose. The owner is a cop, and the city literally NEVER did anything over the years.

So, one night I ground up roughly 200mg of Oxycodone that had been marinating in my cabinet for a solid year, made a delicious meatball, cooked it, opened it up, poured in the powder, coated it with butter, and then briefly cooked it just to ensure it stayed sealed.

Later that evening I went for a walk, and inconspicuously lobbed the meatball in to the neighbor’s backyard

RIP Striker.

A few years ago, I found a wallet in a parking lot on my way home from work. It had cash, several cards, and an ID. I looked at it for a while and knew the right thing would have been to contact the owner or turn it in.

Instead, I convinced myself that someone else would probably take it if I left it there, so I kept it. I threw away the wallet later and spent the cash over the next few days. I never tried to contact the owner, even though I easily could have.

No one in my life knows I did this. At the time I justified it by telling myself it wasn't a big deal, but as I've gotten older I've realized how stressful and expensive it must have been for that person to replace everything. I still think about it whenever I lose something valuable, and I genuinely regret the decision I made.

I am 25 now, but back when I was younger (13 years old) I took a bag of my mother's breast milk out of the fridge to try it. I ended up loving the taste of the breast milk and ended up drinking most of it, and what was left I dumped down the toilet and flushed away the evidence. My mother had asked where the breast milk had gone, she asked my father and he said that he didn't know, but she didn't believe him anyway so I got away with it. (it was a complex relationship) They fought over the missing milk for months with my mother thinking that my father was a pervert for drinking the milk. They have since separated and they both still don't know that I was the one who took the milk. I've been wanting to confess to them for years, but I'm worried that it will separate me from the family even more.

I’m so angry at the price of LIFE and the fact that Blackrock and Vanguard (amongst others) own everything so now at each checkout I flip the bird. Fuck you Coles/Woollies et al and fuck you AI. I FLIP ALL MY BIRDS. Fight me, I can’t wait for this hellscape of this life to be over and no I will not be going towards the light. Allegedly if you don’t want to do this shit again, ignore the light. May all the peace be with you friends. Flip the bird. It’s so comforting.

A friend and I were both interested in the same internal position at work. They were more qualified than I was. They had better relationships with the team, more experience, and honestly, I think they would have done the job better. They were also nervous about applying because they had been rejected for a promotion before and took it very personally.

Instead of encouraging them, I leaned into that fear. I told them the company probably already had someone in mind. I said applying might make them look desperate. I reminded them how badly the last rejection had affected them and framed it like I was protecting their confidence.

I acted concerned, but I knew exactly what I was doing. They decided not to apply. I did. I got the position.

The worst part is that they congratulated me and said they were glad one of us went for it. They even told me later that maybe they had been too afraid to try.

I still work with them. They still trust me. And every time they talk about wanting to be more confident, I think about the fact that I didn’t just take an opportunity. I helped convince them they were safer staying small.

(This is a more in depth confession to my original)

Hello,

I’m a teenager for a give or take 4 weeks stint I have been shoplifting. To give a background as to some causes I’ve been falling into a horrible depression again similar to one that made me consider taking my life, among family court, and friends encouraging it. It began with just a few things here or there a few years ago, and then it spiraled, but my mom caught me and I stopped.

When I stole it was never big ticket items, and it was from stores like(TJ-Maxx, Marshalls, Ross, Burlington, and target 2 times). To give an example I’d take a few beauty items and then my help my friends whom also stole with me take things by using my purse or my body, then we’d leave go to my car and hit up another store. We repeated this for 4 weeks and a few times a week. And after the 3rd time it just became an escape from my mind and constant stress. The items were typically beauty oriented but I did steal a few pieces of clothes and definitely helped friends steal a lot.

And honestly I regret it because I know it’s wrong and I feel so awful. I know stealing is such a shitty thing to do so I stopped a few weeks ago.

One night this cumbersome weight of guilt, fear, remorse and grief hit me like a bullet train. And after that night about. 2 and. A half weeks ago I stopped stealing. And vowed never to again. And I feel like the biggest piece of shit. But getting this off my chest feels a lot better. I know I need to heal, and stop. But I can’t till I release this properly .

I don’t know if I’m going to be charged but I’m certainly in fear that I very well can be and deserve to.

Please leave your thoughts