I went to shopping recently for clothes and tried Walmart, Ross, Marshall’s and old navy. I couldn’t find anything! Everything was ugly! Has anybody else noticed this?

Let me start by saying that I’m not here to discuss politics, immigration, or debates about who belongs in this country. I just need a place to vent about something that happened to me.
I’m a lesbian Desi woman, and one of the biggest reasons I moved to the US was because I wanted to find a place where I could be myself. Ever since I realized my sexuality, I’ve struggled to imagine a future for myself in India. I wanted the freedom to live openly, meet people who understood me, and build a life where I didn’t constantly feel like I was different.
For most of my life, I’ve carried this feeling of not quite belonging. I thought moving here might finally change that.
But recently, I’ve been feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the way Indians are being talked about and treated. I understand that people have different opinions about immigration and the economy, but it’s difficult to watch an entire group of people become targets of hostility because of their nationality.
Today, a random stranger shouted at me to go back to my country.
I was just going about my day. I wasn’t bothering anyone or doing anything to provoke this person. And yet, someone felt entitled to look at me and decide that I didn’t belong here.
Honestly, I’m still upset about it. What bothers me most is that the experience has made me feel scared to go outside. I never expected a random encounter with a stranger to leave me questioning whether I feel safe simply walking around in public.
The irony of my situation is that I moved here because I wanted to find a place where I could belong. As a lesbian woman, I wanted the freedom to be open about who I am without constantly worrying about how society would treat me. And while I’ve found acceptance here in ways I struggled to imagine back home, experiences like this remind me that I can still be judged for something as fundamental as my skin color or nationality.
It’s exhausting to feel like you have to navigate different kinds of rejection everywhere you go.
I’m angry that someone could make me feel unwelcome in a place I’ve worked hard to build a life in. I’m hurt that, despite everything I’ve done to create a future for myself, a stranger can look at me and reduce my entire existence to where I was born.
I know people have their own struggles, frustrations, and concerns about what’s happening in the world. But I wish more people understood that there’s a real human being on the receiving end of their hostility. You don’t know someone’s story just by looking at their face.
I’ve been seeing so much hostility toward Indians lately, and experiencing it personally has made it feel much more real and frightening. The growing acceptance of openly expressing prejudice against people based on their backgrounds genuinely scares me.
I don’t want to spend my life feeling like an outsider. I don’t want to be afraid of going out because someone might decide that my presence is a problem. And I don’t want to feel like I have to prove that I deserve to exist somewhere.
I’m not looking for a political debate, and I’m not asking anyone to agree with every opinion I have. I just needed to get this off my chest because today’s experience really affected me.
I moved here hoping to find a place where I could live freely, love openly, and feel like I belonged.
I just wish I didn’t have to keep wondering whether a place like that exists for me.

San Antonio. 45m, single, divorced. Ridiculously lonely. I went to a strip bar the other night and after sitting and a server took my order (just a coke please), I watched the entertainers walk around and sit with other men. At most gentleman's clubs i go to, girls usually come over and sit with me and chat and i love that. At this place i felt very awkward and just watched the stage with disinterest. I suddenly saw a very pretty server wiping down tables and she smiled at me from afar. She walked over, introduced herself with a handshake and a beaming smile, and offered to "get me whatever I needed." I smiled and thanked her and she walked away. After a little while longer i decided I'd rather just leave, but before i did, I found her and handed her a $20 tip. I told her "Hey, you're the only girl that came over and made me feel welcome. It's not much but here's something." She smiled and thanked me and i just took off after that.

Do with that what you will.

I don’t really know what I’m looking for in terms of replies I guess. But I just wanted to talk about this with someone.

My Pinterest is completely flooded with pictures of luxury lifestyles. The old money kind. And then when I log onto Reddit I see similar things too. I see people talking about those people live such completely different lives to the average person and idk. I guess it just gets to me.

I try to be grateful for what I do have but it’s not like I have much. I’m broke, and my job hunts are going no where. Just rejection letters over and over. I just barely managed to pay for my first ever skating and ballet classes this season, I had to borrow money to do it. But I’m so in love the with sports and I thought I’d be able to make the money back once I got a job, but of course no one is hiring me.
Then I see online that amount of kids would get to the things I dream of because their parents were rich and can afford classes. How they dress, what they eat. It’s so different.

I don’t want to be sad about this, I try my best to make the most out of my life but it’s just so discouraging. The person I’ve always wanted to become is out there being able to exist because they’re wealthy enough to live that life. And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I just won’t ever be able to get lucky enough, or work hard enough to achieve that at an age in which I can enjoy it.

I cried at a bus stop after work once. My job was 2 hrs away by public transit. It was dark and cold, in the middle of winter. My toes were almost frostbitten because my boots had holes in them, I’d had those boots since grade 7. And this Porsche drove bus the stop, and its engine was roaring. I watched it drive away and I guess it all just got to me at once how miserable I was. I was so sad and embarrassed, but ultimately depressed about my situation.

I don’t need another lecture on how rich people can be sad too. I don’t doubt that. I’m not even angry, I’m just so defeated. Honestly, I just wish someone could sympathize with the people who have so much less and dream of a life where they can afford happiness. I’m just tired of waking up and hating who I am, and not even being able to afford to change.

TW: suicidal thoughts

I’ve had major depressive disorder for about 20 yrs now. I have absolutely horrid suicidal thoughts at times, and I have to put so much work into not turning those thoughts into plans, etc. I’m at a much better place than I was even a few years ago. But I usually keep these episodes to myself (aside from talking to my therapist and psychiatrist).

Both my therapist and my psychiatrist say I should tell my friends and family when I’m not doing well. They want me to make sure I don’t isolate myself from the people around me when I’m already going through a difficult time. And I get it, but it also doesn’t feel worth it?

I have the emergency plans in place and I call the suicide prevent hotline when it gets real bad. My friends can’t jump into my brain and fight the thoughts for me, so I’m not sure why the point is in telling them??? I’m also not great with taking outside feedback when I’m really in the thick of it. Like people saying how much they value me and love me is genuinely nice, but, when I’m literally fighting for my life it doesn’t really feel essential.

I remember when I went through an extremely horrible episode a few years ago and I told a couple of friends. They felt so bad for me and I felt so guilty for putting them through that. I even had to give one of these friends my therapist’s number because she was super worried. I went to an outpatient psychiatric program (basically the experience of being in the psych ward without having to sleep there). These were 8 hours each days of being locked in a facility doing different group sessions with different purposes until I got better. It was really rough. I get why I would need to tell people in that case, but when I’m not in that headspace, I don’t get why anyone needs to know. I remember a conversation I had with the friend who talked to my therapist. He basically said he’s responsible for me if I end my life. Like it’s on him basically. I never want to put anyone in that situation again.

So my question is: is it worth telling others when I’m going through a tough time with suicidal thoughts? Especially when I know I can get through it alone? I mean ultimately, if I can’t get through it alone, it’s best for no one to have known I was in that headspace before hand, right? So they don’t feel guilty if I go through with the thoughts.

I’m hoping for honest feedback. Also not sure if this is the best subreddit for this question. If there’s a better one, please let me know.

​

I’m 30M, I regret so many moments in my life where I could have done something, taken a chance, or put myself out there, but didn't.

I was always a shy kid. School bullying made it worse. Somewhere along the way, I developed this fear of being judged, embarrassed, or rejected.

In college, I wanted to participate in activities, make friends, and try new things. I love movies and drama, and I always wanted to participate in college plays.

But I never had the guts to audition or even approach the people organizing them.

I would watch other people do the things I wanted to do and convince myself that maybe I wasn't interested anyway.

But the truth was, I was interested. I was just scared.

And this happened in so many areas of my life. Opportunities came and went, and I kept holding myself back.

Now, at 30, I look back and feel this overwhelming sense of regret.

Not because I failed at something, but because I never even gave myself the chance to fail.

I know people will say I'm still young and it's never too late. And logically, I understand that.

But you cannot go back to college and participate in that drama competition. You cannot recreate those moments you missed because you were too afraid.

I wish someone had told me when I was younger that being embarrassed for five minutes is better than regretting something for the next fifteen years.

I wish I had been a little more bold, a little more reckless, and a little less concerned about what people thought of me.

I'm trying to change now. I want to take more risks and stop letting fear make decisions for me.

But sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been if I had just been a little more confident.

Does anyone else feel this way?

Do you have regrets about opportunities you missed because you were too shy or scared?

And if you managed to overcome this later in life, how did you do it?

I don't want to spend the next 30 years looking back at my life with the same regrets.

What incentive is there not for me to undergo hospice? Since i’m not paying rent my mom is gonna kick me out on the 31st. I’m debating on giving my body to science or making her pay for my funeral to make her suffer a bit more

I am grossly addicted to doomscrolling, and it hit me like a truck two days ago where I was waiting for an elevator to come from 3rd floor to Ground floor and in those few moments, hardly a minute, I took my phone out, opened insta and started scrolling, not even consuming the entire content. That was my bubble burst moment that I am addicted, so I have deleted it, it's been 2 days, so far no relapse. I am feeling terribly bored the entire day tho, maybe that's a sign, I have picked up cyberpunk 2077 as my getaway from reality every day after work, if anyone has any other advice on tackling this, please let me know

Yeah, this is one of those, 'what is the meaning of life?' Things young stoners say. I am not a stoner but..

Letters, and words have random assigned meanings.. if you didn't know you would look at gibberish. Ancient language. Code is all gibberish til you can find the rosetta stone.. one day it'll all be gibberish again. There might be a new English, like with old english. Or everyone moves on to using a different language we don't know about yet.. but thats not doom and gloom, general internet theme so, we'll prob all die before then to stay topical .

Yeah, well never know the first language spoken. Yeah, well never know the first Sound people made in object association. And Yeah, we might never know the Official first language written.. so far its sumarian but there could've been something else that used material the disinterested rather than tablets..

Also, different words, or the Same word meaning different things. Tablet, is a pill, an iPad, or a stone rectangle.. orange is a fruit, And color ? we really couldn't make uo any other word. Tablet had to be pill And stone rectangle. Kind of like Canada has two football teams called the rough riders.. there wasn't Any other combo ? Really? Though on the other side.. there are so many words most average speakers don't know half of them. Like Effervescence. Or ineffable . Most words, You, in fluency. Dont Know

So I get it, reusing words. Still pisses me off though. And through, though, throughout, trough.. thats a combo that's been said. But really shows how words have random meaning where That, doesn't sound similar. At all

Also, Apparently if you don't learn language by 7, your brain has trouble processing the concept.. I know there was one situation where someone was found apparently raised alone on the woods 300 y or so ago.. they got Some basic words but once they were found as an adult. Was never able to fully grasp language.. as well prob some other horrifying studies

Medical Science is also the conglomeration of horrifying acts that eventually benefited society.. no one really talks about that.. science in general is mostly, well see if that does something.. Oh it did. It killed it, or exploded ..

Anything that has a set pattern or specific way of doing something is weird. Especially medical, because people are so complicated we prob haven't figured out Half the ways to cure, or heal most things even though we moved from using coal tar as a asthma medication to gene therapy in a decade, theres prob things Now people would think barbaric not too long from now.. you used to do what?? Cut people Open?? You just get a shot now.. What?? Shots used to be Needles !?

I'm 21 and many of my peers younger or older have either done multiple drugs, or gotten so drunk that they ended up sleeping at god knows where, like a strangers house, on the street, some of them threw up on themselves etc etc now I drink a bit but not too much i know my limits and im not really a party person and it makes me feel like im the odd one out, it makes me feel like a boring weirdo that out of so many people im one of the exceptions, now it's am entertaining the idea of getting drunk at some point in the future, in a safe environment of course but under no circumstances do I plan on ever doing drugs, however sometimes I have passing thoughts of 'what if' just to have stories to tell like everyone else 😞😞

Good evening.

I made a comment a few weeks ago and one reply really stuck out to me: They said I was a narcissist.

I went and did a google search and it seems they are correct. I think I might be a vulnerable narcissist. But I wanted to see what others thought and even if this is the correct subreddit. I don't trust anyone but myself. Eventually everyone will hurt you so I don't let anyone in to protect myself.

I am the oldest of my siblings. I have always thought I was better than everyone else. That I was going to be great and succeed my peers.

Then it hit me. I am in my mid 30s. I have failed so many times. I am behind my peers. I literally have nothing. It's just me and my dog.

But I want money. I want power. I want to succeed. I hate being wrong. I hate being the butt of a joke. I can't stand being criticized. It makes me so angry. So angry that I am just average. I hate it so much that I can feel it burning inside my soul that I am just average and not good at anything.

Anyway, thanks for any feedback. I honestly have no idea where to go from here. I can't afford to see anyone for mental health but I would love to see what others think and how I can try and improve my thinking and accept that I am just like everyone else.

I am married with three girls. I work a professional job and my husband and I are financially secure. We live a pretty cookie cutter life. Every area of my life is simple and predictable , I don’t deviate from what society would say is normal. These experiences don’t show up anywhere else in my life which is why I have come to the conclusion that I’m not experiencing a psychiatric illness or episode.

It started in December of 2023, I was on 12 hour road trip back home from Christmas break. I had run out of podcasts and my brother had a book on audible I hadn’t listened to, so I started it. It was the 4 agreements by Miguel Ruiz. It was a short book but it struck something in me.
I started to question life. I became more open to secular beliefs.

At the time, our family had relocated and it was the first time I was going to stay home. The kids new school schedules were not conducive with working full time. In my newly found free time I started reading, something I’ve always enjoyed but never made the time for. I had a book a friend had given me years ago but I had never read it, as it wasn’t the type of book I read. It was just The Silva method of mind control. Really it was a guide to mediation and with my ADHD , it was something I had never tried. Uniterrupted time was something I had plenty of so, I practiced mediation. Every day I made time, within weeks I could drop into a deep meditative state within minutes. My mind was clearer , I was in full control of my emotions and It felt as if someone had sharpen my mind like a blade. I didn’t have to think before answering questions , the answers just came and I was able to verbalize them with precision. I enjoyed my mediation time so much that I had started mediating for two hours a day.

A short time after bringing this routine is when the dreams started. Now I have always dreamt , every night and I almost always remember them. They were never significant , dreams like everyone else but these were not that. I started dreaming in what I can only describe as 6 dimensional. It was more real than I sit here typing this. They made waking up in everyday life feel like I was living life through a sketch book. The dreams were vivid in color and everything had energy, there was never words exchanged verbally , it was all telepathic but with feelings behind the messages: there was no room to misinterpret , I even felt what I was thinking in the dreams but with the knowledge of why I was feeling that. Every night I went beautiful places, I swam under water with new ocean creatures I had never seen before, I flew over what looked like old Roman buildings but they were grand libraries. My deceased mother visited me in one but she was a hummingbird , flying at a standstill right infront of my face , carrying conversation with me. I loved going to sleep.

Then I was given the opportunity to go back to work full time. I had become bored at home and I desperately wanted human interaction so I jumped at the chance. Time no longer permitted me to mediate for 2 hours a day but I made time here and there. The dreams did not stop but they became sporadic. At work I had heard a co-worker talking about her crazy ( her words ) mother in law who thought she could speak to her spirit guides. She explained that her mother in law spoke to her spirit guides in her dreams. I was intrigued , so before bed that night I prayed my usual prayers and I asked that if I had a spirit guide, they would reach out to me. That night I had one my 6D dreams. There was an Indian man who was showing me a phone. When I looked down at the screen it was a message that I had blocked him from contact. He then was showing me an image of him putting mail in my mailbox but someone was then removing it. He told me he had to go to work and walked into an office where I followed. I looked around and he asked me his name , I told him I did not know his name and he told me I needed to call him by his name. Then poof … he disappeared and I awoke. I’m not going to go into my interpretation of these dreams as I have no idea if I’m correct or even if it matters. I knew the following day I wanted to know his name though. So the next night , I said my prayers and I simple asked him to tell me his name. Another 6D dream came, this time I was walking down a dirt road and trailing behind me were three dogs. They were protective , I could feel that. I turned back and looked at one of them when the it’s collar caught a ray of sun and gleaned “ OLLIE”. From this point on I called my spirit guide Ollie.

I did not dream of him again after this , even after prayers asking to. Life got busy and I pretty much stopped mediating all together. The dreams became scarce. A year later I had dreamt I was at a funeral and my husbands family was there but my husband was not , I could see the casket but not who was in it. I woke up concerned that maybe it was my husbands funeral. A couple days later we recieved a call from my sister-in-law, her husbands cancer had become aggressively terminal, they gave him weeks. We packed up our lives and we moved back home. My brother in law passed away in the winter months , my husband who had to finish a contract back where we lived was flying back and forth , leaving myself and the girls to live with his sister on a farm in the Midwest. My husband was there when he passed away but the ground was too frozen to bury him, my husband had to fly back and he missed the funeral. There I was , just like the dream. I also found myself jobless again. I was living with his widowed sister whom I really did not know well and I was besides my children, alone. I took care of the animals and tried to help her through this time, but I hated it. That sounds so selfish but I hated the Midwest , the cold , being a single mom , taking care of farm animals, I just wanted my old life back. I started mediating again. It helped me cope.

Then one day as I was mediating, something happened. An image , but a 6D image , again more real than this life. It projected from the space between my eyes right infront of my face. It projected out with a golden hue. It rotated 160 degrees and then 160 degrees the other way , so I never saw the back of it , if that makes sense. I am going to describe it but I don’t know what it was so I apologize if it makes no sense. It was most definitely copper , at least in color but it appeared to be copper metal. It looked like some sort of machine but there were not buttons or gears , just like smooth metal. It was the shape almost of cabinets? If you put one tall set of cabinets next to a shorts longer set. Like this —I but it had some kind of valve .. or tap. I was startled and that brought me out of my meditative state. I tried to meditate on it again and again but I never saw it after that.

Life got really bad , things were terrible. Details of it won’t make a difference in the story but I was in the low of my lows. I started to dream of things again and this time , those things started happening. Not exactly how I dreamt them but they were definitely happening. Just a few example , I dreamt my aunt had come to me and asked me to take her to a friends house, I drove her to a house on a hill with the lights on. A beautiful smiling woman came out to greet her. I could hear them laughing inside. I walked back up and told my aunt that it was getting dark and we needed to go , she smiled and said she was staying and I could leave. She passed away that week. I then dreamt of having dinner with an old friend and his wife and my husband. My husband and his wife had gotten into a heated argument about money and we all left upset. I woke up from that dream with a text from the previous night , my old friend reaching out for my husband number. He later asked him to join a business he was starting, we declined.

Strange things were happening , too many to name. In the midst of a crying session I’d recieve a text from an unknown number telling me everything was going to be okay. While in mediation I would feel this vibration, like I was on the inside of a gigantic bell that someone had just rang. My entire body , every cell would vibrate. Then one night, I started to think about my first dream of Ollie. Was I blocking him from messaging me? I gave permission. That night I said out loud that I gave permission for Ollie to reach out. I awoke around 3am to a voice , not male or female . An echoing announcing voice saying “ HELLO” the entire room filled with the smell of tumeric , ginger … Indian spices? I was sitting up , groggy , scanning the room , I saw nobody but I know what I heard . It woke me up. Maybe my sister in law was cooking I thought but then realized it’s the middle of the night and my sister in law has never cooked , certainly not Indian food in the middle of the night. I was frightened but then a wave of calm and Tranquility came over me and I laid back down and went to sleep. That’s the last time I heard or saw Ollie. So much has happened since then but nothing remarkable , until last night. Which is what has led me to tell a world of strangers the mental box of strange I’ve been keeping for the last four years.
I have questioned the Bible… not god but I like to read and I know much has been lost in translation as well as intentionally manipulated, last night I asked god in my prayers if I’m living the right way and if this god consciousness that I believe in is some sort of new age evil. I was asking if I should folllow the Bible to its word today or accept my own beliefs that I love god and Jesus and maybe the written word has been rewritten by men with something to gain. As soon as I fell asleep I began dreaming. I was walking up to my home , there was an exposed top water slide curving around like a lazy river into my pool. A neighbor has come over , I had never seen this boy before but I knew he was a neighbor. He brought his dog , his best friend. My dog had gotten loose and ran toward the neighbors dog , the two dogs were fighting , they had made their way into the water by this point , I yelled for my husband who walked over calmly but did not break them up. My neighbors dog because so Angry , it has turned on the boy , repeatedly biting his face. LUKE LUKE I screamed. But luke grabbed the dog by the neck and hugged him , while the dog was actively biting his face , he was hugging him with love and compassion and I understood that of course he wouldn’t let go , he loved this dog and this dog was provoked to be angry but did not have intention to hurt the boy. I knew that the boy understood this dogs intention was not to hurt him and he wasn’t angry but loved the dog the same before he had hurt him. I then woke up but the strangest thing happened. When I opened my eyes I was in my dark room but when I closed them , I couldn’t see my iris , every little slit like the under side of a mushroom but in the middle where I would see what blue sky and clouds , as I moved my head around my room with my eyes closed I was scanning the daytime sky, looking around and seeing different clouds but surrounded by my iris.

I know this was long and maybe nobody will read it and I had to get it out. What does it all mean.

I feel so alone in my thoughts.

In three weeks, I’m moving to the other side of the world, and I’m honestly so excited to get away from my home country and my family.

It’s not that I hate my family, but I just don’t want them physically close to me. I’ll most likely stay in daily contact with them. However, now that I’m moving, I want to keep my life a little more private.

I’m 30. Single. No kids. I dream of meeting the love of my life and possibly having a family of my own someday. The thought of letting my parents meet my future children makes me feel sick, and I don’t know why.

I think I just want to have my own life, for myself? A life where I get to choose who I let into it. Traditions are one of the things I dislike most in life because they make me feel so trapped. Being far away from home gives me an incredible sense of freedom and independence, which is extremely important to me.

I’ve never heard anyone express thoughts like mine, which makes me feel incredibly alone and wonder if there’s something wrong with me.

Does anyone else relate to this?

I’m a very sensitive person and I HATE any sort of confrontation. I come across very shy and quite, so I’m often having people just kind of walk all over me and push me around, make really mean or passive comments at me, boss me around, etc. The biggest thing I want to achieve is to have a back bone and build some confidence so people can’t just say and do whatever they want to me. But also where I feel my voice is being respected.

I got into an argument with a coworker, a coworker who happens to be new and has waaayyy less experience than I do. She was arguing with me about our job responsibilities and what my job is and what her job is. I would try and explain it to her, and every single time I was met with resistance and an argument. I felt that she didn’t value my opinion in the slightest, she was “asking” me questions and when I would give her an answer, she would debate it and even cut me off mid-explanation to argue with me. So I had enough. I felt I wasn’t be respected either.
My voice and hands started to shake really bad when I was talking to her and I saw her notice it and fucking smile at me, like she was getting the upper hand and she loved that. Even confronted me about talking to my boss about her.

So after that whole thing went down, I was kind of venting to some people and something that honestly bothers me is when I’m told “I would just let them. Not worth it” but why should I? Why when I stick up for myself, I’m told that I shouldn’t have or to let it go. I totally get it, there are some things that are not worth it especially with work but what about when I feel I’m being pushed around? What about when it’s clearly not about work and a personal matter?? It bothers me so much and i never know what to say in that moment. Because it feels like I’m being told that I’m the instigator, that I caused the fight but I don’t want to fight in the first place. But I also don’t want to have people walk all over me all the time

I don't know if it's a proper question when I don't really know who I am. Why I don't know who I am? Maybe because I'm ashamed of everything I do in public, I'm even ashamed when there is only my brother in room. Even when I'm alone I don't do anything meaningful. It's been like that since I was born. I'm always quiet because I'm too shy to say anything, if there is something, because my mind is always empty in any social situation. I don't want to express any emotions at all, because as you might have guessed, I'm ashamed of it. I would love to connect with new people, but my body language pushes people away, also my social skills basically do not exist. I don't go to the doctor because I'm ashamed. I don't tell people about my problems because I'm ashamed. There is only one exception, which is when I write to someone or I'm very drunk. But also I'm somewhat ashamed of writing to people I know too. I don't have any hobbies or any passions. Nothing in this world is interesting for me. I don't have a job and I'm a parasite. I hate being me, who am I anyway? I wish I could just turn off my consciousness because I don't think I should be born and I don't deserve anything. But really, who cares?

I've always longed for a deep connection with someone. Not necessarily a romantic relationship, just a genuine friendship where both people care, remember the little things, make an effort, feel comfortable opening up, and genuinely want to know each other. Someone who doesn't make me feel like I'm just another person they talk to when they're bored.

But I've never really had that, and sometimes I genuinely wonder why. Is it the way I talk? Am I boring? Do I struggle to make a good first impression? Is there something about my personality that makes it difficult for people to get close to me?

Ever since childhood, I've felt different. Back then, I didn't really care who used me, was rude to me, mocked me, or secretly talked about me. I experienced racial comments, mockery, and people mistaking my innocence for stupidity. I didn't always understand what was happening or recognize when people weren't treating me well.

Growing up, I slowly realized that even the people I considered my closest friends weren't necessarily as attached to me as I was to them. My childhood friends became distant as they developed their own friend groups. I understand that people grow up and make new friends, but it still hurt watching people I had so many memories with gradually become less interested in me. Sometimes they would discuss their friend groups even when those people weren't around, and I would just be there, feeling increasingly disconnected.

My cousin and I also grew up together and had a good relationship, but eventually she became closer to my childhood friend. I wasn't necessarily excluded from everything, but I often felt like the third wheel, whether at school or around relatives. It felt like everyone had their person, their group, or someone they naturally gravitated towards, while I was always somewhere on the sidelines.

Then COVID happened. I became quieter and struggled even more with making friends. I enjoyed staying home, drawing, watching anime, and doing things by myself. I was productive and comfortable in my own little world, but when school reopened, I felt completely clueless socially. I would sit alone, distract myself with games, and try to occupy my time even when I was bored. I didn't necessarily want to be alone all the time, but I didn't know how to change my situation either.

I eventually started meeting people online through Genshin Impact. I made friends, but most of those connections remained superficial. We would talk endlessly about grinding, the game, and random things, but we never really developed the kind of closeness I was looking for.

One girl was probably the first person I considered an online friend. She had health issues and was very private about her life. She would help me in the game, and I appreciated that, but I never really felt like she trusted me enough to open up. Perhaps that was simply her personality, and she had every right to keep her personal life private. Still, I sometimes wondered how close we actually were.

Then one day, she disappeared. She disabled her account, disappeared from social media, and unfriended me in the game. Everything was suddenly gone, with no real explanation. I don't know what happened or why she left, but it felt strange to watch a friendship disappear so completely. I was left wondering whether the connection had ever meant as much to her as it did to me.

There was also a mutual friend of hers, a guy who was around 25 and, as far as I knew, married. He gave me uncomfortable vibes because he seemed overly interested in other women online. I eventually lost interest in the game, stopped talking to them, and blocked him because interacting with him had become exhausting.

The thing is, none of those friendships ever became particularly deep. I had people to play with, but I didn't really have someone I could talk to about my anxiety, my life, or the things I struggled with and receive a thoughtful response from. I tried getting to know people, but I often received vague answers or generic replies.

I was surrounded by conversations, yet I still felt lonely.

Then I met another guy through Roblox. At first, he seemed genuine. He shared personal experiences, talked about his failures, and was casual enough with me that I thought we might become good friends. We even exchanged photos, something I now regret because I don't think I knew him well enough at the time.

Things became uncomfortable when he started acting as though we were much closer than I felt we were. He considered me his best friend, even though I hadn't reached that level of attachment. He was clingy and seemed to need excuses whenever I wasn't available.

He would make me stay up late at night, even when I had college early the next morning. Sometimes I agreed despite knowing I needed sleep, and looking back, I regret not prioritizing myself sooner.

He also shared his Netflix and Amazon Prime accounts, talked about how much they cost, and repeatedly brought up the things he had done for me. He even gifted me a game pass I hadn't asked for, only to boast about his generosity and financial stability again. He flexed his Bitcoin, money, and builds, and it eventually became suffocating.

I started feeling uncomfortable because his favors seemed to come with an invisible obligation. I never wanted a friendship where someone could keep reminding me of what they had done for me, as though I owed them my time, attention, or closeness in return.

We did have some decent moments. We played games together and listened to music on Discord, and I don't want to pretend every moment was terrible. But eventually, his behavior and disregard for my comfort outweighed those good moments.

I communicated my boundaries, told him I wasn't comfortable continuing to talk, and unfriended him.

I regret how much access I gave someone before I really knew him. I regret some of the things I shared and the time I sacrificed. But I also know that I eventually recognized the problem and walked away.

Now I'm 21F, and about a month ago, I met another guy on Reddit. I had commented about struggling with social anxiety and making friends, and he reached out to me.

We started talking regularly about food, religion, family, interests, daily life, and random things. Sometimes our conversations were long and enjoyable. He shared his experiences and opinions, and I shared things about myself, including my anxiety, family experiences, and personal struggles.

For once, I thought perhaps this could become a meaningful friendship.

I naturally put a lot of effort into getting to know him. I remembered little details he told me, asked questions, followed up on things he'd mentioned, and tried to understand his perspective. When he was absent, I noticed and checked in. I wanted him to feel that someone was genuinely interested in his life.

But gradually, certain things started bothering me.

After about a month of regular conversations, he forgot my name and had to ask me again. When I reminded him that he'd already asked before, he simply responded with something like, "Gulp, how did I forget?"

Maybe it was an innocent mistake, and I understand that people forget things. But it still hurt because I remembered his name from the day he first told me. I never forgot it. We had never even exchanged our real names, so the username was the only name I knew him by, and somehow I had remembered it all this time.

I also started noticing that many of his messages felt routine. He would ask how I had been or hope I had a good day, but sometimes the conversations felt as though they depended on me to keep them going.

He talks a lot about himself and his experiences. There's nothing wrong with sharing your life with a friend, and I do appreciate that he shares things with me. The problem is that when I give shorter replies, he often continues talking about himself rather than asking more about me or exploring what I might be feeling.

I notice when he goes quiet. I wonder how he's doing and sometimes reach out. But when I'm the one who's quiet, he doesn't seem to notice or check in in the same way.

I've also shared quite a few vulnerable things with him, and now I sometimes regret opening up so much. Not because he necessarily did anything terrible with that information, but because I'm unsure whether the connection is as meaningful to him as it has become to me.

It's confusing because he isn't necessarily a bad person. He does initiate conversations, asks how I've been, and shares parts of his life. We have enjoyable conversations, and there are moments when everything feels natural. I don't want to dismiss those things.

But I keep wondering whether we're actually building a friendship or simply maintaining a routine of talking.

Am I genuinely getting to know him, or am I becoming attached to the possibility of finally having someone close to me?

I don't want to assume the worst about him, but I also don't want to ignore how I feel.

When I look at all these experiences together, I feel exhausted.

Different people, different circumstances, different kinds of relationships, but somehow I keep ending up with the same feeling: I care, I try, I remember, I ask questions, I make space for people, and then I find myself wondering whether anyone is making that same space for me.

I've had people who were distant, people who disappeared, people who crossed my boundaries, and people who were willing to talk but didn't seem equally interested in getting to know me.

I know not every friendship has to become deep. I know people have their own lives, their own problems, their own friends, and their own boundaries. I don't expect anyone to be available all the time or remember every tiny detail I mention.

But I want a friendship where the interest feels mutual. Where I don't have to carry every conversation. Where someone asks me questions because they're curious, not merely because it's their turn to respond. Where I can share something personal without later feeling embarrassed for having opened up. Where I don't feel like I have to earn my place in someone's life by being endlessly attentive, understanding, and available.

Sometimes I wonder whether I expect too much. Other times, I wonder whether I've become so accustomed to receiving very little that even basic attention starts feeling special to me.

Perhaps my social anxiety plays a part. Perhaps I struggle to express myself the way I want to, or maybe I overthink interactions because I'm afraid of being judged. I often question my conversations, my first impressions, and whether there's something about me that makes people lose interest.

I hate that I sometimes turn other people's behavior into a judgment about my own worth.

I also hate that whenever I meet someone new, there's a part of me that hopes this might finally be different. That perhaps this person will become someone I can trust, someone who wants to know me, someone with whom I can build the kind of friendship I've always wanted.

And then I become aware of every little imbalance, every forgotten detail, every conversation that feels one-sided, and every moment when I wonder whether the other person would even notice if I stopped trying.

I don't know whether I'm too sensitive, whether I invest too quickly, whether I choose the wrong people, or whether I'm simply struggling to find people whose idea of friendship matches mine.

I don't want to become cold or stop caring about people. I don't want to become suspicious of everyone or treat every imperfect interaction as a red flag. I want to be able to trust people without feeling stupid afterward.

But I also don't want to keep giving so much of myself to connections that leave me feeling unseen.

I regret some of the people I've trusted, some of the things I've shared, and some of the boundaries I didn't establish sooner. Yet I know I can't spend my entire life regretting every attempt I made to connect with someone.

I was lonely. I wanted friendship. I wanted to be understood. I tried to find those things in the people who came into my life.

I don't think that's something I should have to be ashamed of.

I just want to know what it's like to be someone's genuine friend without constantly wondering whether I'm the only one who cares enough to make it happen

I want to feel chosen sometimes, too. Not because I've done something for someone, because I've been useful, because I've listened to their problems, or because I've made myself endlessly available.

Just because they enjoy who I am and genuinely want me around.

And after all these years, I still find myself wondering: Is it really that difficult to find a connection like that, or have I been looking for it in the wrong places?

Back in freshman year of college (early 1980s), there were two guys I hung out with. We mostly smoked pot together and did stupid freshman stuff. One of the guys, who I knew from high school, flunked out after freshman year and moved back home. The other one dropped out after sophomore year and went to a different school in the area but we still hung out.

Eventually I totally lost contact with the guy who flunked out, but the other guy and me still hung out occasionally after graduation. He moved away and we only stayed in touch via Facebook. He went quiet for a while only to resurface months later with photos from the hospital, saying he had cancer and was probably dying. Shortly after that, his wife posted to say that he had died. Pretty sad.

Every so often, I would think about that first guy, who flunked out and then we lost touch with him. He was a character, so I wanted to find out about him, but nothing would turn up in any of my searches.

Until it did. A few days ago, I did some deeper searches (which were difficult, because he had a pretty common name), and eventually I learned that this guy had also died just over ten years ago, leaving behind a wife and two kids.

That threw me for a loop a little bit. And yeah, it's another thing that makes me feel old. That these two guys who I hung out with a lot all those years ago are both dead. Just another thing that makes me value my own immediate family that much more.

There are examples of this in history such as Winds of Change by Scorpion which primed people for the fall of the Soviet Union.

With as much as the CIA is known to influence culture, and with as impactful and psychologically powerful as music is, why wouldn’t one assume that they are utilizing it as a tool to shape public opinions and larger societal moods.

The CIA might not be writing all of the top 40 chart, that’s not what I mean, but definitely some of what we consume is directly or indirectly manufactured with the goals of the government in mind.

They also use hidden frequencies and other hard-to-hear elements in music to have psychological impacts including in advertisements.

This year has probably been the best year of my life, I’ve started going gym and made great progress, I’ve moved into a degree I actually want to do and know I will enjoy and the work will be worthwhile and meaningful, I quite my retail job and got two new ones that align with my future goals of being a teacher, oshc and disability support, they post better and are so awesome I love the kids I work with. I’ve been hanging out with my friend and we’ve been getting close playing games and studying Japanese for a duo trip next year to Japan. I’ve been going out more joining uni clubs, and have been spoilt rotten with the films that have come out this year.

Yet, I feel this feeling that I can’t explain. It just feels like tiredness. And I get chocked up more easily on things more then I think I should and more then I used to. And I always think so much whenever I’m not doing anything, my mind never feels silent. I can also tend to not be bothered replying or conversing with my family most of the time, they have for the most part started to annoy me when they ask about my personal life when they don’t need to worry(I understand that I’m a dick for doing this).

Can somebody tell me what I might be feeling and how to fix it cause I hate this feeling I want to feel like true self again.

Is it possible to feel lonely even when you're surrounded by people who care about you?

It's the best decision i've ever made.

it started off as just a spot for me to write corny messages but the longer i kept doing it, the more people resonated with the things i had to say, and the comments and DM's i've gotten have genuinely started to make my day.

i strongly encourage anyone who is feeling any type of way to just start a scratch tiktok account, throw on a black screen and just type how you feel, you might be surprised at how many people resonate with your feelings

It is possible that depression has roots that grow not deeper, but external. I can’t picture a single human being who doesn’t have enough reasons to end it all with a loud-sweet bullet or a heavenly-pointy knife. But are reasons enough? Are they based on logic or feelings? Does logic matter more, anyhow, or is a persistent feeling of, for instance, utter loneliness, a hollow desperation growing bitter inside of you, sufficient? Is it a motive as good as any? In that case, why would really successful folks kill themselves? Is it because they already had unsolvable issues or is it that their desire was bitterly turned off by the blinding shadows of success?
I’ve always had the impression that depression is the clumsy translation of a universal, even divine, question. If death is around the corner, why would one do anything? (The reverse of this would also exist and should be translated into something like: If death exists, why would I stop? (Middle-class university junkies, I’m talking to you.))
I also believe that, because of its unique, labyrinthine structure, this question may become a prison. Kind of an angsty but nice one, like an eternal adolescence burning up inside your chest.

I often fall into quite a common pattern. I tend to confuse intelligence with sadness. Mainly, I suspect, due to the fact that all of my heroes are culturally sad heroes. But why? What is sadness? What makes a piece of art sad? I mean, what makes a poem sad? Moody adjectives, gloomy themes? What makes a song sad? Minor chords, a ghostly piano, really soft vocals?
Also, why do we tend to bring sadness and intelligence together, or, more properly put, sadness and intellectuality as a whole, as an ying and yang kind of situation? Who determined that everything containing a certain level of sorrow is immediately smarter than things that do not have it? Can absurdity, joy, and laughter be clever as well?
I suppose we can all agree that yeah they can. I don’t know, Ricky Gervais is fucking brilliant with his jokes, they are very well thought out. Fleabag, R.E.M., Pavement, Trainspotting, Tarantino, fucking comedian politicians and the Walt Dysneys of the world, who sell us happiness by using happiness.
They are really smart.
That much we have to give to them.
But, The question remains? Why do we associate sadness with a certain level of intelectual appeal? Why is it that the greatest artists are generally the ones who talk about this kind of feelings whereas more “happy” art is often label as “banal”?

Okay, I need to sleep. This has been my philosofical debate of the week. Leave me more examples or opinions in the comments. Part 2 will either live in my mind forever or I’ll write it one of these days. Who knows?? Love.
India

Some of the wives and girlfriends of my colleagues and long standing patrons keep being rude to me at work, and then make me out to be the asshole when I match their energy or call them out on breaking the rules.

I work in a bar in a “nice” neighbourhood bar in NYC, and we’re incredibly welcoming to everybody. If you’ve ever seen the Netflix series Black Rabbit, that’s almost exactly what it’s like. A little loose, but at the end of the day it is a business, and we need to keep a tight grip on our policies and SOPs, otherwise it’ll snowball into obscurity.

It’s only really been two major instances that rattled me, but it’s becoming more frequent as I’m getting more responsibility. I’m tired of making enemies when I’m literally just following the rules, and not letting people be disrespectful.

Most recently, I refused a woman entry because she ran into the place and past our host, making a b-lone for the bathroom — even though we have clear signage to wait to be seated. This is mainly to control the seating and bookings, but also to asses people’s behaviour. I stopped her initially to see what was going on, and stopped her again as she tried to push past me saying she just needed the bathroom. I let her know there are public restrooms nearby, but she left in a huff. A few seconds later one of our regulars appears at the front and asks what’s going on. I apologised and said I didn’t she was with him.

We have a customers-only bathroom policy, with exceptions to certain circumstances such as children, medical reasons, or at least those familiar with us; i.e. returning customers or regulars. Basically, if we can asses that you’re not mentally unstable, intoxicated, or just using the bathroom to shoot up, we allow it. But running past us as a non-customer or unfamiliar face is suspicious, as we don’t know your intentions.

She came back a week later and ran past our host again, but this time successfully making it to the bathroom. She ran in deliberately avoiding us. Although that was disrespectful in our eyes, once we realised it was the same person, we let it slide, noting she’s the girlfriend of a regular. However, upon returning, she came up to me to berate me about how she felt she was treated last time. Admittedly I lost my temper a bit, because she was name dropping and acting incredibly entitled; even noting how much money she spent there before. I personally, had never seen her before.

She threatened to tank our reputation, and sat herself down at a table. I did not know she was friends with this table, that had actually sat themselves contrary to our policy, and thought she was just attaching herself to them to make it harder for me to kick her out. So I went up to the table twice and told her to leave, but she refused. The rest of the table told me o was making them uncomfortable and I should leave them alone. They accused me of going overboard. I was not going to let this woman disrespect me like that, though.

IMO, these people had a fundamental misunderstanding of how a bar works. Everyone is welcome, but you can’t just do whatever you want. What this particular woman also doesn’t understand is that she was exhibiting all the characteristics of someone we wouldn’t allow in the bar in the first place. Only crackheads walk that fast.