Sometimes i just feel like the most crappiest friend ever, i never know how to comfort or calm people down so in most cases i just stand there like a fucking goldfish. they say that sometimes you dont even need to talk as long as you're there to listen and that may be therapeutic to some people but i can't help but feel so fucking defeated and useless. This morning my friend had a mental breakdown and she was ranting but im shit at talking let alone give good constructive advices so like the fucking goldfish i am i just stood there hugging her not saying anything afraid i'll fuck up and say the wrong things. whispering sweet nothings and constantly reminding her shes not alone will only get her so far, i love her and i hate seeing her like this but if only i can actually TALK would actually be great. I'm not actually trying to make this about me because this confession was actually supposed to be about her but i can't help but be pissed at myself, i'm so angry at the fact that i'm actually fucking useless and i can't do shit about her problems. It's one of my biggest flaws and it's a personal issue that affects my life in general. I've also learnt that i can't properly talk or express myself unless if it's over text cause that way i have time to at least think of a good answer, and it sucks to be me and i realised how fucking 1st world problem and unimportant this all sounds so i'll shut the fuck up
I find the idea of being intimate in a romantic or sexual way with someone really abhorrent.
People think that I'm a loser, an asshole and a retard. I do too
There's a contest on the radio giving away money... they played it last year and one of the people who won was a coworker of mine who gets close to 3k a month from the government, brags all the time that he doesn't really need his job. and he wins. this time. my bf's mother just won. her new husband abuses their kids (she does nothing... and no he doesn't abuse her), she disowned the eldest kid and her own mother, she's cheated on practically every guy she's been with and on her spare time she critisizes every decision my bf and I make about our life, they have a huge house, motor bikes, snowmobiles and 2 trucks they treat better than their children.... and so the universe is just like here, have some free money.... fucking hate how life works
My brother is 20 years old and fat person. he shouldn't be eating junk food. and yet every single time my mom goes to the store, she buys him a pint of ice-cream. and almost every time she and he go out somewhere, she buys him fast food. I know this because he always has a drink in his hands from chick-fill-a when he comes home from an outing with her. But I am a skinny girl. I weigh 115 pounds, I'm almost underweight. She never buys me any food. She always gets my brother food from his favorite place, and I'm left with only rice or soup to eat. I think it's unfair. Just now, my mom made a batch of brownies and I was so happy. when I went to the kitchen, I couldn't find the brownies anywhere. I honestly think she gave them all to my brother. a whole batch just for him. how is that right? I don't know what to do. I've told her that this is my point of view, but she's always favored him, so she doesn't care.
i want a hug right now
My therapist says that deep down I miss having people in my life. While true I think it's too much trouble trying to make things good with everyone around me.
I barely watch any porn these days and when I do the scene is pretty vanilla mature women getting banged by dudes under 30. I'm almost 40 btw. It's just that I'm disenchanted with sex and relationships. I have many problems in my life right now and not having a gf or fwb is the least of my worries. Yes, you can say that porn or a real woman ain't supposed to solve my problems.
I'm a loser. My life is so empty. I don't have a goal in life, no friends, no gf, no job, no money. I'm gonna end alone and poor.
I kind of had a mental breakdown at my boyfriend's house yesterday. It was the middle of the night and we were in his bed when he asked me about the scratch marks on my hips. He’d asked me about them before several months ago, when he first saw them, and I was too scared to talk about it then. So I told him to ask me another day, and I guess that day was last night. But I froze when he brought it up, the same way I did when he asked me about it for the very first time. He said he needed to know. When I didn’t say anything, he said “Did your mother’s friend do this to you? She did, didn’t she?” and I instantly started hardcore dissociating, like my sense of reality was beginning to slip. He knew. I don’t know how. I never told him. But he knew it was her who was responsible for the scratches on me. He only met my mom’s friend once, but he must’ve seen her nails. She always, since the day I met her up until the last time I saw her, had these horrible, sharp, artificial nails. And yeah, she used to hurt me with them. The memory of what happened next is kind of a blur. I just remember panicking so much that I went numb. I remember getting off his lap, leaving the room, staggering down the stairs, and ending up in the woods behind my boyfriend's house, somehow. I remember him coming out after me, asking me where I was going, telling me to come back. I didn't know what I was doing or how I'd gotten out there. I kind of just wanted to run away as fast as I could because I was so terrified of the conversation that was about to happen, but I didn’t run. So he walked me back to the benches on his back porch, sat me down, and asked me what was wrong. All I was able to tell him was: they used to be worse. The scratches on my hips—they didn't always look like the thin white lines they are today. They used to look like they'd been put there by an animal. They used to feel like it, too. Back then, I was the only boy in my P.E class who changed clothes in the bathroom stalls instead of out in the locker room with everyone else, and I was the only boy in my neighborhood who wore a t-shirt whenever my parents made me to go to the pool. And it was because of this. I couldn’t look at the scratches on my hips without thinking back to how I got them, when she was pinning me down, sinking her horrible, horrible nails into my sides and… well, I’m not gonna say what she did next, but it was awful. I couldn’t look at my own body without wincing. I told him all of this. I told him everything. All my secrets, all the details, all the things I’d been terrified to tell him, it all just spilled out of me. I didn’t even realize I was crying until he wiped my eyes and nose for me. I told him I’m sorry he has to see me like this, and that I hate that I have to burden him with my trauma. Then he pulled me closer to him and quite literally held me until I stopped crying, and he said he never ever wants me to be afraid of talking about these things with him, because nothing I could possibly tell him will make him stop loving me, and that even if he can’t always understand my pain he’s always going to listen to me. He also said "I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault, okay? It's not your that fault this happened to you, and it's not your fault that you couldn't stop her." And that was the first time anyone in real life ever said that to me. I had no idea how badly I needed to hear that. It was two in the morning when we finally went back to bed, and I couldn’t stop looking at his sleeping face and wondering why I was ever so afraid to tell him what happened to me. He’s such a wonderful guy. I had no reason at all to be so worried. But still, it feels strange, knowing that he knows everything now. It feels strange knowing that there’s no more secrets I need to keep from him. I’m not gonna pretend like I’m not embarrassed after I told him all of that, but I’m glad he knows and at least that's all out of the way now.