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I used to have this imaginary friend when I was a kid. His name was Ray. But he wasn’t a human. He was more like a ghost or a demon or something, all tall and shadowy and see through and black all over. The first time I saw him he scared me but he told me that he was my friend. After that, he just started appearing at random times. Mostly when I was by myself. He had this weird obsession with the piano that was in our living room. Every time he was near it he would examine it closely and then say something like “what a stupendous make of a piano” and I’d shrug and say “big deal.” He hated when I said stuff like that. He always said he was my friend but I wonder if that was true because he always made me feel bad about myself. He would always say things about how we think we're so important, so great, when really we’re nothing. He always said that his people were better and smarter because everyone knew over six thousand languages while we only knew one or two, and how his people never died and that everyone he knew was over nine thousand years old while we humans only lived to be eighty. Stuff like that. Sometimes I would be alone in my room just drawing or whatever and then I’d turn around because I felt something and Ray would just be standing in the corner of my room watching me. I'd say hello and sometimes he would say hello back, other times he would ignore me and just look around at the stuff in my room. It always made me feel kind of nervous. But I never told anyone because I knew he wasn't real and I didn’t want people to think I was crazy. When I turned 13 he stopped showing up. I never saw him again. But I still feel his “presence” sometimes. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I know he’s there watching me but I don’t see or hear him anymore. I feel it right now, too. Like he's watching me write this. He doesn't want me to post this, I can feel it. But I'm going to do it. I often wonder if he really was just an imaginary friend I made up or if he was an actual demon. Part of me wants to believe he was real. And honestly, even if he was made up I kind of miss him and wish I could see him again. Is that weird?

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  • Sounds pretty weird, but who knows? I've been wrong about lots of things.

  • I've seen a spirit, that was sitting on my body. I had a spontaneous OBE. It ran off, and jumped through the wall. I came back into my body and had to review what happened. At the time it was as if I had two minds. That instance happened once. I feel presence, rather than see them. I just move on and realize that I don't have anything to fear. Good conquers evil.

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My mom had me at 16, my sister at 17, my brother at 19, and my youngest sister at 22. She is 28 now. Our father left us when I was five so for the past 7 years my mom has been raising me and my siblings with no trouble at all, being a stay at home mom and having two jobs to support us. She is an amazing woman and I'm not ashamed to have a 'teen mom'.

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  • What yo mom look like 👀

  • My heart fuzzed up when I read this because I'm just like u. I couldn't wait to turn 16 and find a job. Even though ur 12 u sound very mature, grateful, and understanding. Hang in there it will get better 🙂

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I've crossed out theater as my career of choice and I fear becoming famous if ever because I've lied too much in the past about my identity because I was formerly insecure about it. Now I stop lying that much and I'm pretty sure people would still remember me and I can't afford the hatred. Becuase I know there will be a massive amount of people that will hate me. Its not a harmful lie but it can be hurtful lie... Now I just want the simple life. The past will always chase me forever because now that I have no choice because I made that choice. It's my greatest mistake and I its also my greatest regret and it felt weird that there's no truth can set me free because I've fully drowned from those lies. Pathological lying isn't good. I was it and it's the worst thing I've ever done but it was my mental illness and its hard to break that problem. I don't know how long I've been off of the habit but as far as I know I still lie a bit but I have the control. I only do it when I have to defend myself or if people would tend to ask about me too much in which I don't trust that person I just met.

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  • Same here. Ive denied so many opportunities because i couldnt help but lie in the past. Like my identity and stuff because i couldnt reveal it

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When my mom disowned me at age 15, I lived on the streets for a few weeks. I was completely homeless and I was starving and freezing and alone. I ended up prostituting myself to a gay man for money and a place to sleep. He liked me because I was young and attractive. He took my virginity and, while I know it was my decision to do it, I’m still disgusted with myself sometimes. I had to perform sexual favors for him whenever he told me to. And I had to let him do whatever he wanted to me whenever he wanted. Sometimes it hurt, badly. Sometimes I lost consciousness from the intensity and terror. Sometimes I would cry, but I wasn't allowed to say no because he gave me food, a bed, clothes, money. He helped me get my life together, but, I never would have wanted to do that sort of thing with another man. It messed me up really bad. I just had no choice. What was I supposed to do? What would you have done? I couldn't get a job. No one would hire me because I was too young and too dirty. I had no other family. I didn’t want to go to a foster home because the guys there beat me up. I just, I really was left with no options.

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  • Never feel guilty man. Remember, always keep telling yourself this, you're a survivor. You did what you did because you had to, because you chose to live instead of starving to death or freezing into an icicle. Never forget that fact, no one can give you shit for that, never let them.

  • You gotta do what you gotta do, man. Glad you're doing well now at least.

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I hate my life. I was abused as a child by my own dad and I grew up to look exactly like him. I had to run away with my family to escape. I’ve been all over the country. I got molested by my classmates. I became overweight and had been bullied for the majority of my life. My sister became depressed and constantly let out her anger on me as a child. My sister hates me. My mother is sick and tired of my whining and complaining. I’m a pushover. I’m social but all that comes out of my mouth is a jumbled meaningless mess. I get laughed at a lot. I can’t stop smiling and it’s killing me. I’ve been straying from my religion. My cousins act slutty and I hear them fight in my old bedroom which has been inhabited by them for as long as I can remember. Everytime I try to confess my feelings that person has either exited my life, done nothing about it, or made it so much worse. I’m failing my schoolwork and I’m about to be excluded due to my low attendance and lack of effort. I’ve never had a stable place to live. I’ve never had anything of my own that isn’t torn, broken, lost, old or worthless. I’m constantly punching, scratching and tearing at myself and it leaves no marks. I get hit by people and never fight back. I have literally have no friends. I can’t talk to on any meaningful level. Everyone thinks I’m a happy go lucky idiot. Oh and- I’m twelve.

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  • I know you probably hear this a lot, but you're young. Very young. There is still a lot of time for you to grow as a person and improve your life. When I was 12 I was in a similar situation, but now that I'm 21 life is better. It can be a slow process, but you can make things better. Start by fixing that attendance, kiddo. You can control that. You can show up. You can try in school. You have power over yourself to do anything you want, and you can make something of yourself if you just try. Life sucks, but we make the best of it. As for the bullies: stand up to them. If you just sit there and take it, they'll keep doing it. I learned this the hard way because I never wanted to be mean to anybody, even the people being mean to me. They bullied me so hard that I look in the mirror and still see nothing but a fat cow even though I've lost so much weight. But the thing that made them stop was when I snapped at a girl. I yelled at her and showed how angry I was instead of hiding it under the sadness. It scared her and she never bullied me again. Nobody did. I scared her so bad that no one messed with me again. Anyway sorry this is long, but I guess my main point is don't lose hope. Do not give up. You have so much life ahead of you, and there will be many opportunities to make things better. But as the King of Pop said, 'If you want to make the world a better place, you gotta look at yourself and make a change.' Start with the man (or woman?) in the mirror. Best of luck to you, kiddo.

  • Your life matters. Please don't hurt yourself. Stay determined. You have strength within yourself, even if it's just a little, I believe you can move forward with that. You could do that with small things, like start doing one more part of your homework than you usually do. One thing is better than nothing. Please hang on, it will get better even if the wait is long.

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I barely live when I was born because I have this fucking disability but my mom love me anyway. grew up having my mom to always not around as well as my dad. 5 years old I was sexually abused and I get very nervous inside everytime I'd see, sense, or hear my cousin. 1st grade and 2nd I was bullied that I'm ugly and stupid because I always have short hair and dark skin (because a Filipino thing to be called ugly when you're dark skinned). i move to a different school at 3rd grade and I was picked on by these girls, gossip about my hair about my quietness, about everything they see on me and sabotage my grade once, these girls would spread these message to other grade levels so others would avoided me and I wasn't friends with anyone, all they would gossip that I was only rich because my dad is in the mafia but honestly he works in an agency in the US. I didn't study and I failed the classes then. I just don't want to do it even though I know everything I just loose interest studying then and because why bother when you'd fail anyway from their sabotoging thing (because these girls were the class president and vice president). Then I move again at 4th grade and 5th grade. I was bullied by this guy who had a friend that falsely claimed I have a stinky arm pit. This guy's friend was actually just quirky and he just do that to irritate me because he likes to see me that way I don't know he had a crush on me then because he thinks its cute.. but this bully.. nope very rude. I would walk everywhere and he would follow me and scream "putok!" meaning stinky pits and other guys would laugh at me and girls would just avoid me. The guy's friend kinda just didn't say anything. Then I move to the US at 6th grade from the philippines. I experienced racism about Filipinos from these white people. yep they said I might stink because my country is the same. I was the only one whose Filipino in that school. I move in a different state again and there are no white people much - racism is opposite (because white people are kinda discriminated against). I thought its better for me because people seemed chill and diverse. I though good timing to be myself. So yeah I did. I was nerdy and love books but I was shy because I had a traumatic incident in the past but I was bullied again because of my nerdiness. I have no friends and girls would physically bully me. No words just pushing off the stairs. Then 8th grade I tried to fit in but I get their drama which is very dumb but I was hated. high school, I had friends from all these comotion in 8th grade. I was picked on by my friends and I experienced depression finally. sophomore I was bullied because I'm the science classes and people judge me that I'm dumb just because I have a dyed hair and i'm the type of kid that don't study and probably do some weed. junior year, rumors spread about me that I'm a slut when I never even had sex before. senior year academic stress, expectation from parents and their control on what college I should go to and yeah more rumors about me. so yeah i thought this is gonna end because teenage years is done and I'm finally gonna be happy and not pretend to be this and that. But nope it's all different in college. The stress, the amount of energy you need to use for work, studying and time. I feel alone, I can't even fall in love or what else.... I can't even make friends because now I have PTSD. But you know what, screw that! I'm at this point of my life and experienced the shittiest things in life so why the hell do I fall now seriously?? I've almost killed myself from cutting, hanging, overdosing on sleeping pills but then I still can't do it. why? I love to explore the fucking timline of my life. and then I look at myself "hey! look I'm still alive and studying and a researcher in the STEM field and living in America and a state with the most opportunities! Plus I have good friends they're not around physically but at least I had real friends still" If I would talk share everything, more shitty things happened to me than the good ones but the way you see things helps with the quality. Quantity wise bad things won but quality wise good things won and I always value quality than quantity so.. Plus I have a mother and brother that I care about if die my mom will be crazy and my brother will be alone so nope not today depression. Not today PTSD. To me I just always look at one light I can find even though everything is dark around me. Imagine the sky at night where everything is dark and yet there are still things shining especially when you search for one. They're beautiful yeah? light within the darkness is beautiful if you can't find the light then be the light alright...

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  • You are amazing, my friend. The toughest days are the ones that build character,and though you don't know me I am proud of you. I spent 35 years in prison for something I didn't do, and the only thing that got me through it was this: I woke up every morning and literally told myself, out loud, that whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger. Your method was different, but just as effective. I am so glad you made it! Dragonhunter2651@gmail.com

  • I'm glad you're still trying. Never give up.

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I think my grandfather had an influence on my parents divorce, lies were spread and my father had to spend 10 years in jail. Not having my father in my life effected me deeply. I have been spending time with my father, and we are so alike in many ways. It still hurts him to this day. It was 33 years ago. He had experienced his first child given up to adoption, because a woman didn't tell him she was married. She became pregnant with my father's son (his first child), and her husband made her give him over for adoption. My father tried to petition to get him, but the power was over married couple, and they wouldn't let him have his son. He had other children and I was the last one. I was told he hurt me, but I don't recall any moments like that. I only recall small memories of him singing, playing the guitar and sitting beside him on the piano bench at two years old trying to sing and play with him. I started visiting my father three years ago. He is 76 years old now. I drive him to the store, and help him with his groceries. Sometimes we would eat breakfast in the morning or have lunch after the shopping was finished. He would say, I remember when you were little you used to pretend to read the newspaper to copy me reading the paper. He said that I could sing my ABC's by the time I was two years old. Often times he would ride in the car and with anguish he would say, I hate that they (my mother and grandfather) took you away from me. I would never hurt you. I can't believe they lied on me. I can't help but to believe him, because I had three other half sisters and a brother (this is the second brother, not the one taken for adoption) who he had before me and he took care of them . I am his last daughter, the youngest. My two of my sisters have had children and the other married. Now at the age of 35, I have not had any children or married. My experiences with other people, have felt distant, I felt I didn't belong. My mother, raising me as a single woman, would have other people watch me in our family watch me, because they had children. The sad part is that some of their children were abusive. I have had people who would end their friendship with me, or some sort of verbal or emotional abuse from them. There were also times I felt anger, I would distance myself from others and would just rather be alone. I visit both my father and mother every two weeks unless it is a holiday. Though I try to pick up the pieces, and try everyday to figure out life, I still live in solitude, mental stagnation and unexpected feelings of agony. I did see a therapist, but couldn't afford it, even with my medical plan. For now, I just get up everyday, go to work when I am scheduled to go, pay my bills. I am glad that I get a chance to improve my life with each day that comes. Tomorrow is another day.

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When I was about 14 I faked something like a panic attack to get out of doing a semi-scary dare. It was at my friend's birthday party, no less. I drew attention to myself unnecessarily when my friend was supposed to be the the center of attention. And I gave a wrong image of actual panic attacks. I'm ashamed of this.

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  • Self-defense, man. You gotta do what you gotta do.

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My dad did some fucked up things to me when I was a kid. Things I will never forget. Things that haunt me to this day. I remember this “game” he used to force me to play with him back when I was 12. He would back me up against the wall and get so close to me that our noses were touching. Then, the first person to break eye contact would get struck in the face with a wooden plank. I was always the one to break eye contact first because there’s nothing more intimidating than having to look straight into the eyes of a person who’s done unspeakable things to you. He would lock me in a pitch black room for hours at a time. I remember groping the walls of the room in the darkness, feeling the texture with my fingertips because it was all I could to do confirm that I was still alive. He would blindfold me and make me walk barefoot across a forest with his hand tight around my arm until we reached his cabin. Once, I stepped on a shard of glass and began to cry. He hit the back of my head so hard my ears started ringing and said that boys don’t cry, and that I was disgusting and pathetic, and that I would never be a man. My feet were sticky with blood by the time we got to his cabin. He would suffocate me with a pillow when I couldn’t stop crying. He got drunk and beat me up until I puked. He burned me with his cigarettes. He starved me. On my fourteenth birthday, I ran away. Right on the day. He was asleep on the couch and I stepped outside the house and started running. Just like that. I fucking ran for my life and I didn’t think and I didn’t know where I was going and I had nothing on me except the clothes on my back but I didn’t stop and I didn’t look back. I just ran. I borrowed a stranger’s phone, called my 21-year-old brother, and told him where I was. He picked me up and took me to his apartment. I cried on him so, so hard. I was hysterical. I told him I never fucking wanted to go back to my dad’s house ever again. I told him I’d rather die than go back there, and I meant it. I really did. My brother said he’d let me move in with him if I got a job to pay rent. So I looked for every job I could possibly get at 14 years old. I raked the neighbor’s leaves. I walked their dogs. I cleaned the dishes and took out the garbage at multiple fast food restaurants. Anything I could do. ANYTHING! My brother let me move in. My dad didn’t care. He was happy to get rid of me. And I was happy to get rid of HIM. I started LIVING. I became HAPPY. But, still- when I think back to the things my dad did to me, my chest begins to ache. I try not to think about my past. I don’t want to remember it. But some days it’s all I can think about. Some days all I can do is stare at the ceiling and try not to cry my eyes out. Some nights I’m too afraid to fall asleep because the nightmares are too much. Especially the nightmares of being back in that pitch black room. Some days I get so angry I start shaking and I ask myself what I ever did to deserve any of that. I ask myself where I ever fucked up in my life so badly that made own father treat me like I was lesser than garbage. That’s the question that keeps me up at night. The question that drives me absolutely insane: what did I do wrong? I’m crying right now as I’m writing this. But I also feel relieved, because I’m happy with the way things turned out. I really am. I’m in college, I have a girlfriend, and I haven’t seen my dad since my fourteenth birthday. I’m okay now. For the most part.

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  • Perhaps the most heartbreaking part is that you didn't do anything to deserve this. We tend to cling to the belief that we do, often because it gives us a sense of control. If we did something wrong, we can do better next time, and prevent the bad thing from happening. This isn't true. Some people are inherently terrible, and whatever you do, they'll find away to abuse you as long as you allow them to be in your life. You do no longer allow your father to be in your life. You are a survivor. Your past is still affecting you, and that's normal. You went through more than anyone should ever have to. Therapy would be a good, healthy next step. There is no shame in taking proper care for yourself.

  • Your Dad was/is a douche and you have PTSD. Get help.

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When I was young (16-17) my 8 yr. old sis used to have a lot of her friends over to play for the day, spend the night, etc. My mom loved having me watch them, and they ALL had a crush on me. One day an abaolutely gorgeous girl from next door was sitting opposite me on the floor, her legs spread wide open, wearing loose-legged shorts. She had no panties on, and her perfectly formed, hairless vulva was plainly visible..my sis noticed it too, and later we talked about it, admitting that it was the most beautiful thing i had ever seen! She must have told her friend, because one night when I was babysitting and this girl was spending the night my sis called me into her room, and as soon as i entered they both lifter up the hems of their nighties and showed me their totally naked, completely hairless and swollen pussies! To this day the sight of hairless vulvas gets me soooo turned on! P.S. If anyone has a pic or two of bald vulvas pplease let me see them??? Dragonhunter2651@gmail.com

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  • Right... It was gonna be your lucky day today since i was gonna send over a dozen or so photos fresh out the shower... But then i read "hairless" and realized I didnt mert the criteria! Shit! My bad! But a treat is always a treat right, regardless of the packaging? I might as well feel free lol. No fuck im kidding. But in a serious wtf were you discussing that with your 8 year old sister? Next, wtf did you feel it was okay to look at your sisters vagiba? This sounds like some family incest thing going on. So nasty. Idgaf about what your life is like rn, but at 16 or 17 its just disgusting to take a peek at an 8 year olds vajayjay. Nasty af

  • pedo

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