As much as I hate to admit it, I hate being a mother. My own family was extremely dysfunctional and so, I always thought that when I had a family, I would break the cycle. I waited until my 30s to even consider marriage and kids, because I didn't want to be financially or emotionally not ready for them. Days after my wedding, I found myself pregnant. My family and friends made me feel like I should feel nothing but blessed to be a mom at 35. But I was on the fence, going back and forth between worried and happy. Around the 7th month, I was 99% sure I'd made a mistake and desperately wanted an abortion, but it wasn't an option that late. The other 1% of me stayed hopeful that the mommy instincts would kick in once I gave birth. They never did. Seven years later and though I'd die for my son, at the same time, I wish he didn't exist. I've contemplated divorce and leaving his father to raise him but I would hate to cause him the same emotional scarring my own parents caused me.

I get very turned on by and irresistibly attracted to any beautiful girl who smokes cigarettes. I love it when a girl lights up and drags on her cigarette right in front of me and carelessly lets her exhaled smoke sail towards and dissolve right in my face. I have no idea exactly why I'm so attracted to girls who smoke or even when this attraction started. I just know that it has provided me with many years of visual pleasure and seduction and therefore much like the act of smoking itself, my urge to meet and admire girls who smoke has become its own addiction. I'm a nice harmless guy and all I wanna do is watch. To me, female smoking is art.

I was engaged and fell in love with my best friend. After ending my relationship I only waited a month before starting the new one with my friend. My new partner kept the relationship a secret. Said they didn't want my ex to know and hurt themselves. And this continued for six months. Six. Until the stress of the secrecy, lack of communication, and pandemic became too much to bear and we split. Knowing we still loved one another we split. It just wasn't working out. Be it different love languages or something else we just couldn't make it work. So now I grieve a relationship that was both my best and worst. I wonder how to move on when you lose your best friend and lover all in one go.

Teacher at an urban Title I public middle school in a large US city. I hate my job and almost everything about it. All it took was one year at this school to destroy any passion I had for teaching. I took the job because I had no other options, and I regret it. The families are garbage, the kids are horrible (not their faults, tbh...I blame systemic poverty), and the admin is useless. I can't talk to anyone about it because the other teachers there either like it because of the challenge or have just gotten used to it - but those are the old teachers (I'm 26). I'm known at work for having -the most positive attitude- but it's all an act - I'm drained, I'm demoralized, and I'm resorting to unhealthy means to deal with it all. Work gives me nightmares; I just want them to stop. I'm in too deep with student loans to get here in the first place, so I can't just quit - especially not in 2020. I want out but have nowhere to go. I'm stuck. I'm trapped. I'm in too deep. I am Sisyphus.

I'm 17 years old and back in 2018 I met a guy online who I had a semi-sexual relationship with. He was in his early 20s. Our relationship was very complicated due to a lot of other people becoming involved in our situation. I broke up with him last year and didn't talk to him for about 7 months. in recent months we got back in touch and became friends again. But just this month, a lot of shit went down and we had to part ways for good...Over these past few months, I realized I'm still in love with him...and what breaks my heart is that I'll never see him again...I still have his contacts and I could reach out to friends of his if I wanted to, but I won't. I just miss him...he was the kind of guy who was great at being a friend but wasn't fit for relationships...Whoever reads this will think I'm kinda fucked up in the head, but that's ok. I've accepted that.

I have feelings for my assaulter’s brother. I was drunk at a party (which he was aware of) and he was sober. He engaged in sexual acts with me when I had told him that I did not want to do sexual things with someone I was not in a relationship with prior to him making a move. I had no sexual experience before him. I still blame myself because I couldn’t bring myself to say no when I wanted to. Later in the year I coincidently met his older brother through some mutual friends. He happened to be interested in me but I knew that it was morally wrong to have any kind of relationship with him; other than to be friends (he has no idea about his brother). As I began to hangout with/see him more often as a group, I found myself to have developed some sort of feelings but nothing serious. Out of respect for myself and him I have absolutely no intention of acting on my feelings. However I can’t help but feel guilty for feeling this way about him after having been involved with his sibling.

I don't like the wedding dress I just bought. I just picked it because everyone else seemed to like it and my mother made it clear she did not approve of the dress I chose because it was too modest. In order to avoid another stressful day of shopping I just bought the one she liked and am calling it a day.

My mom's dying of cancer....and I'm okay with it. This woman has made my life a living hell ever since I was 8 years old. Supposedly, I've forgiven her--which is what I tell everyone else that I have done. In all actuality this woman has damaged me in irreparable ways to the point where I am barely functional as a human being. She's a borderline narcissist--the profile of abuse fits her to a T. Most of the abuse would range from emotional to mental. She'd degrade me for my self expression, make unwanted comments on my body, tell me to 'drop out' of high school, call me names, mock me for crying when it was too much, and scream about how she was -giving up on me-. Truth is, I was the one carrying her emotional baggage--remaining calm while she would act erratic and abusive. Truth is, I gave up on her. Finally I have the chance to move on and heal.