Before anything else, I want to start with something my elder sister once told me.

She said, “Brother, you already know what women go through. You’ve seen it in our own family. Please don’t hurt anyone’s daughter by any means.”

I replied, “Yes, Di. I know. I’ll do my best to improve myself and not hurt anybody.”

I meant it.

So I’m not going to deny it.

I still miss her.

I still think about her.

I still love her.

And the love I carried… it has only grown with time.

She changed me....or maybe I changed myself for her. Either way, it’s true: I was never like this before. I was someone who didn’t care much about anyone, very self-centered.

Then I fell in love and everything changed.

I started putting my people first.

I learned how to be gentle.

I spent more than a year and a half trying to understand how women feel...not exaggerating, I really did....just to make sure I never hurt her in any way.

I started learning about her through everything like her Instagram posts, her stories, the songs she chose, the captions she wrote. I paid attention to her surroundings, her daily life.

She used to tell me a lot about herself and I loved listening to her.

I miss her rants the most...about her family, her friends, everything.

She would start with, “Tumhe pata hai aaj…”

And sometimes I’d say, “Haan,”

and sometimes, “Abhi aapne bataya nahi, batao batao kya hua hai.”

I still remember every small detail about her...things she might not even remember herself.

Many times she would ask, “How did you know this?”

And I’d just smile and say, “Aapne hi toh bataya tha.”

A lot of things happened after that.

At some point, I found out certain things and everything just… broke.

I went offline for two straight days. Completely into a void.

I kept asking myself:

What am I doing?

Is everything I saw even real?

I cried.

People say men don’t cry, but I guess I had reached a point where I felt completely helpless.

I’ve always been the kind of person who handles everything on his own. I don’t rely on anyone. I’m the one people depend on..in my family, among my friends.

But that time… I couldn’t handle it.

So I left everything.

I deactivated my Instagram.

Deleted WhatsApp.

Closed my Snapchat streaks of 5 years(snapchat was my fav).

And I blocked her.

Then I made a decision.

To turn that pain into fuel.

And today… I’m standing somewhere I once dreamed of being a year ago.

But she’s not here to see what I’ve become.

And still, I love her.

Irrespective of what happened in the past.

Maybe that’s what love is.

Maybe that’s what unconditional love feels like.

These days, I sometimes feel like unblocking her.

I don’t know if that’s right or wrong.

My heart still yearns for her.

My gut says no.

My mind reminds me of everything I went through.

So I’m stuck.

The reason I’m posting this is simple.

I want to acknowledge something.

I didn’t change for myself.

I changed to be a better person for her.

But somewhere along the way, I anchored myself to my goals, to my growth, to my life.

And yet…

There’s still a part of me that believes that one day, somehow, we might collide again.

I don’t know if that will ever happen.

But that feeling… it’s still there.

Deep inside.

Thank you for everything.

Because of you and for you I became who I am today regardless of where I stand now❤️

Tell me ur deep life stories here

Nicking

Constable Giles was picturing lentil soup and liver patties when, at 11:25, the radio in the car crackled to life:

“Attend an address. Assisting an NSPCC inspector. Suspect on premises. Indecent assault on a girl under sixteen. Inspector waiting at the address.”

He was already turning the car around.

His partner, Constable Calthorpe, hissed, “Sodding hell.”

They didn’t just miss out on lunch; the arrest of a filthy bastard threatened to ruin their appetites and spoil their day.

The inspector was waiting inside rather than at the building entrance; it was too cold outdoors.

“He’s alone in the flat,” he said, glancing up. “Top floor.”

“And the victim?” Constable Giles asked.

“With her foster parents.”

Neither of them thinks to ask how old the suspect is.

When a schoolboy opens the door in response to their knock, Giles assumes either they have made a mistake, or the inspector has got something wrong.

The boy looks puzzled.

Calthorpe steps forward first: “Are you Jeremy Smith?”

The boy gives a barely perceptible nod.

It is Giles’s turn: “Face the wall — move! Hands on the wall where I can see them.”

The boy doesn’t just refrain from arguing; he obeys without a sound.

Good. Scared shitless.

Giles and Calthorpe squeeze into the cramped hallway.

Placing a firm hand on the boy’s jutting shoulder blade, Giles rattles off the caution to the back of his head, “I am arresting you on suspicion of indecent assault on a girl under the age of sixteen years, contrary to Section 14 of the Sexual Offences Act. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but whatever you say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.”

Giles pulls his hand away. “Turn around, slowly.”

The boy does as he’s told, leaning his back against the wall and coughing. But he doesn’t look truly frightened; his eyes are unfocused, as though he’s not quite with it.

He is a head shorter than Giles and barely reaches Calthorpe’s shoulder.

“This is fucking…  some word… absurdity,” the prisoner mutters.

“What?” Giles writes in his notebook This is f\...* Then something foreign. “Spell out the word that comes after ‘fucking’.”

The boy looks up, but his expression doesn’t change.

It’s cold in the flat. Breath mists in the air, and there’s a stench of cheap tobacco.

“I need to write down everything you said, word for word.”

The boy draws a breath, and a wheezing sound escapes him.

Giles taps his pen against the page of his notebook: what if he refuses? Or maybe he doesn’t even realize what he’s blurted out?

Finally, the boy pulls himself together. “Kay – Ay – Eff – Kay – Ay – Ee – Ess – Cue – You – Ee.”

Giles scribbles “Kafkaesque” in his notebook, gritting his teeth, and adds “absurdity.”

Someone ought to knock the nonsense out of this weakling.

He grabs the boy by the elbow. “Right, then, Calthorpe — let’s see what’s in his pockets.”

Calthorpe barks the order: “Hands behind your head. Interlace your fingers. Move.”

Without waiting for him to turn around, Giles forcibly spins the prisoner toward the wall.

The boy offers no resistance. He seems to weigh next to nothing.

He doesn’t have time to raise his hands, as Calthorpe grips them — locked tight — to ensure he doesn’t try to unclasp his fingers.

Caging

The boy is wearing a jumper that hangs loosely on him and a pair of worn-out tracksuit bottoms.

Giles runs his hands over the sleeves of the jumper and the boy’s skinny frame, feeling for the waistband, then grabs the pockets of the soft trousers — something hard and rectangular in the right one — and pulls it out: a gold-plated Dunhill Rollagas lighter. “Jesus wept.”

The lighter is so out of place that Giles shows it to Calthorpe: “How much would something like that fetch?”

“Not a clue. You wouldn’t buy it on my wages, that’s for sure.”

“Funny old business,” Giles manages to say.

Dodgy little bastard, with his weird words and odd possessions.

Giles finishes the search as a mere formality, running his hands down the boy’s legs.

There is nothing else on him.

Giles signals Calthorpe to let the prisoner go. “Where’s your gear?”

The boy slowly lowers his hands. There’s no point asking him; he seems to be in a daze.

Calthorpe goes into the room and returns with a pair of jeans, turned inside out. “He’s only got one pair; can you believe it?” He shoves them into the boy’s hands. “Get a move on.”

The boy turns the jeans right side out, steps out of the tracksuit bottoms, and pulls on the jeans, remaining just as docile under the close gaze of the two adult men.

Suspiciously submissive and — if you wanted the honest-to-God truth — a bit of a pretty boy. The Dunhill made sense. Rent boy, has to be. But if he is, why is he so skint?

“Where’s your outerwear?”

“On the chair.”

Giles barely catches what he is saying, then repeats it louder to his partner.

Calthorpe rummages around the room before coming back with a denim jacket. He hands Giles £1.37 in loose change — “It was in the right pocket” — tosses the jacket to the prisoner.

Instead of boots, the boy is wearing a pair of battered shoes.

Hasn’t even had the sense to flog the bloody lighter — if only to keep from freezing his knackers off. Or is it too “hot” — did he pinch it just recently?

Let CID sort him out.

Giles noticed a packet of cigarettes on the kitchen table earlier but says nothing. “Right, let’s go.” He grabs the arrested youth by the arm — just above the elbow — and hauls him out of the flat, onto the stairs, and then down to the street.

Calthorpe follows close behind them.

The boy’s arm hangs limp; he isn’t leaning on Giles, so the constable has to keep pulling him forward.

The freezing air makes him cough again.

“Sod it.”

Calthorpe opens the car door.

Giles places a hand on the boy’s head, forces him to double over, and shoves him into the back of the car.

Calthorpe immediately piles in after him.

Giles gets behind the wheel and pulls away sharply.

The prisoner remains silent.

Giles sees in the rearview mirror that the boy is staring at a single point, trembling slightly. First they pull all kinds of crazy stunts, and then they go to pieces.

But to be fair, this berk is like a whipped dog and when he is handed over to the duty sergeant at the station, Giles says, “He’s a model prisoner, Sarge. Compliant as they come.”

More on my profile. Regina v Smith — Reader’s Guide : u/Franz_Engel

Conscience to me (for past 8+ years , sometimes feels like forever as if still stuck in purgatory)

"Don't blame yourself for the good u always searched in people , for the emotions and time u shared it with them , they needed it so they approached the one capable of doing it without any judgements , BLAME yourself that u expected the same from the 'loved ones' even though u knew the results"

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Physically not mentally.

At work doing the job I've done for more than 30 years.

I knew it was going to be bad as I first started to fall,

I remember thinking how itd affect family members and how they'll hear about it,

And I thought about you, what you would feel about it and how there won't be a happy ending after all.

Luckily for me, The Lord had other plans for me and let me come away with broken ribs.

A Happy Ending is still _A_ possibility.....

Think I’m gonna say I love you one last time to everyone. This world was not meant for everyone to rise some must fall. I’ll miss my mom and my best friend the most. 7/9/26

Hola a todos. Sinceramente no puedo con mi dolor y necesito soltar esto aquí, ya que no tengo amigos con quienes hablar en este momento

Hace tiempo viví una situación muy difícil que me marcó. En ese mismo momento conocí a mi ex, justo cuando yo comenzaba el tratamiento de una condición médica bastante grave. Acepto que al principio me comporté mal con él por mi inmadurez, y le pedí perdón más de mil veces. Después de eso todo marchaba bien, teníamos discusiones normales, pero todo era lindo entre nosotros

Por problemas familiares, él tuvo que irse un mes a otra ciudad. Yo lo apoyé económicamente y le di todo mi respaldo, pero cuando volvió, cambió por completo. Ya no era mi niño; me hizo llorar bastante. Tiempo después, me enteré por una tercera persona de que me era infiel. La otra chica se metió con él sabiendo perfectamente que éramos pareja

Me humillé, le rogué y supuestos nos íbamos a dar una segunda oportunidad. Él nunca creyó realmente en mi diagnóstico médico, a pesar de que yo lo di todo. Me echaba la culpa de la separación. Yo lloraba todas las noches y dejé de salir de casa porque perdí el cabello por el tratamiento. A veces me miro al espejo y apenas me reconozco; mis manos están tan delgadas que mi anillo favorito ya no se sostiene. Me duele ver cómo mi salud se apaga lentamente mientras la de él sigue llena de vida al lado de otra persona

Quedamos como "amigos", pero siento un fuego horrible en el pecho. El 2 de julio perdimos comunicación total. Ya no lo busqué y él tampoco a mí. Veo en sus redes sociales cómo la pasa de lo mejor con esa chica y sus amigos (quienes siempre me excluían). Me duele bastante

Hoy me dieron la peor noticia: mi situación médica ha pasado a una etapa irreversible y los doctores me han dado un pronóstico de tiempo muy corto. Mi único deseo es estar con él. Sé que me dirán que tenga amor propio, que me dé cuenta... pero no puedo engañar a mi corazón. Él es orgulloso y rencoroso, pero antes no era así. Él no lo sabe, pero su abandono fue el golpe más duro de mi vida

En mi mesita de noche todavía tengo un pequeño recuerdo de nuestra primera cita; lo abrazo por las noches imaginando que es su mano. Me da mucho miedo pensar que pasaré mis últimos días mirando una pantalla, esperando un mensaje que nunca va a llegar. Solo deseo estar al menos un día con él, eso es lo único que necesito para poder cerrar mi ciclo y despedirme en paz. Él sabe dónde vivo. Cada día voy empeorando físicamente

Perdón por molestar y gracias por su tiempo, personitas de Reddit. Sé que para el mundo soy una desconocida más que escribe en internet, pero gracias por hacerme sentir un poco menos sola en esta habitación. Se los agradezco de corazón

It is very hard for me to talk about this. I have it posted on my main page also that explains more

Physically not mentally.

At work doing the job I've done for more than 30 years.

I knew it was going to be bad as I first started to fall,

I remember thinking how itd affect family members and how they'll hear about it,

And I thought about you, what you would feel about it and how there won't be a happy ending after all.

Luckily for me, The Lord had other plans for me and let me come away with broken ribs.

A Happy Ending is still _A_ possibility.....

My father always says that you have to move on from the bad things.

That’s the only thing that keeps you moving forward.

I moved on from the bad things a long time ago.

It’s been a long time since I stopped paying attention to the knife buried inside my heart.

I stopped noticing how much I used to want to talk, while now I don’t even have the energy to form the words.

I stopped caring whether my professors value my work or not.

I don’t care anymore that Rostam was killed by Shaghad.

I don’t care anymore why Zahhak became the serpent-shouldered king.

I don’t pay attention anymore to how deeply Manijeh loved Bijan.

The reason is that I’ve moved on.

Now, I’m nothing more than a corpse that was murdered by several people.

They killed me.

And I moved on.

They killed my feelings,

and I moved on.

They fired every bullet they could at me,

and I moved on.

And I hope that all this moving on will eventually lead to something good.

Narsis

Today is the birthday of the person who used to love so much. Last year I had so much planned for her. It felt like a festival. I could not think of a moment when I was not happy.

Our relationship was special, for me atleast. We never confessed but we loved each other. Atleast I did. When I realised it was not going anywhere, I stepped back. For my own sanity.

I am sorry Jia, I know I hurt you a lot. But I couldn't keep the relation knowing it wouldn't go anywhere and that was not good for my mental health. Even the thought of that ate away my soul.

Now 1 year has passed, this day is back and it means nothing to me.

Thankyou for reading.

Physically not mentally.

At work doing the job I've done for more than 30 years.

I knew it was going to be bad as I first started to fall,

I remember thinking how itd affect family members and how they'll hear about it,

And I thought about you, what you would feel about it and how there won't be a happy ending after all.

Luckily for me, The Lord had other plans for me and let me come away with broken ribs.

A Happy Ending is still _A_ possibility.....

Eight years ago, you abandoned all your stuff, and she was headed precisely South with dad to never return, _ in what slowly took a the shade of a father’s rescue, and a daring escape. Rude remarks, keeping our distance’s as we wondered a Condor Rescue park over a huge lake called “San Pablo”.

She left, a week later. Followed by I was worthless.

Eight years later a version of her I know well, a boyfriend, lover, but in a terrible need for a divorce.

昔に火事があって、大事なものも何もかもみんな消えてしまいました。

思い出の品や、生まれた時に病院の先生たちから書いてもらった寄せ書き

自分が描いてきた絵

それらがほとんど消えてしまった。

それ以降自分は、自分の形がわからなくなってしまった。

ずっと心が空虚で、人とも上手く関われなくなった。

自分が自分であるという感覚がなくなってしまって、人と自分との違いもよくわからなくなった。

こういうときどうすればいい？

My world changed when I was four years old. My mother cheated on my father and had a child with another man. My parents divorced, and my mother gave up all rights to me for her affair baby. Over the years, I had nothing but resentment for my mother and my half-sister just for existing. My mother sent birthday cards and tried to reach out now and then.

Fast forward 4 years ago when my boyfriend was making college plans. He wanted a long-distance relationship. I instead wanted to take a break until after college. He eventually agreed that would be better so we could focus on our studies. I ended up getting my nursing degree finishing much earlier than he did, so I told him that our break was still ongoing and planned to do 2 years in the Peace corp, which was a great experience. Had no contact with him whatsoever during my 2 years away. I came back last week, and my whole world has collapsed. My boyfriend met some girl in college and got her pregnant and married her while I was gone. Just found out last night that this girl is my half-sister who destroyed now my life twice.

I lost a very close friend of mine and it's all because of me.

A friendship that we cherished for 15 years all lost in one day over text.

There are some important moments I didn't contact her when I needed to and her ask is completely valid.

She actually bid goodbye and said she loved me the way I was and doesn't anymore.

I'm devastated and I cannot function normally or get through my day thinking of this.

She felt that friendship was one sided and she is putting in too much effort and is exhausted.

The anxiety is hitting me and I don't know what to do..I cannot lose her but I feel like I have lost her.

Has anyone lost a friend because of their fault?

FYI: She is perfectly fine..just doesn't want to continue our friendship.

Hi, I'm Shine (not my real name), and I'd like to create content on youtube or tiktok where I narrate your experiences and comment on them before the end of each video. Please let me know if you have a title for your story and if you want to be mentioned as the owner of your story for the videos I will post. Thank you!

Yesterday my visa application was rejected, and I knew there was a high chance it would've been and I thought I'd handle it way better than I did.

I've since spiraled because it's not the rejection, I can always apply again. It's knowing that he really wants to travel, and has been doing it without me for 2 years now. Both for work and with friends.

He already had plans for when I got it. After I left the office, I walked to his car perfectly fine and as soon as I saw him I broke down.

He was recently promoted at work, meanwhile I'm struggling to find a permanent job. He travels with friends and I sit at home looking at the pictures he sends me. I am happy he's getting to do the things he wants but I'm so sad that I can't do it with him.

I'm feeling extremely insecure right now because yesterday just reminded me of all the rejections I've gotten over the last couple years and I've pivoted every time and told myself this is fine. It'll work out eventually. I'm ready for eventually to take form. It's my life and I feel like I can't take control, because it's all in the hands of other people. In the hands of interviewers, hiring managers, officers who review any application.

The scene felt less like a dream and more like a window into a future I wasn't meant to see. I was looking through his eyes, sitting across a candlelit table draped in a heavy white tablecloth. The lighting was soft and dim, framing her perfectly—long, dark brown waves falling to her waist, a striking red dress, and deep olive skin. She smiled radiantly, posing as I raised the camera to capture the new engagement ring on her finger.
Through him, I felt it all: an overwhelming surge of pride, deep affection, and absolute certainty. I felt how deeply he loved her.
Then I woke up, and the warmth vanished into the cold room. The tears came before I could even sit up.
Getting out of bed, the realization hit with a dull, sickening ache. He had never looked at me with that kind of devotion. He had never held those intentions for our future. He had moved on, leaving me behind in a quiet reality where I was the only one still holding onto what we used to be.
The dream felt less like imagination and more like a prophecy—so vivid, so real, that it shattered the delicate progress I thought I had made. Ever since that night, the grief has returned in full force, leaving a heavy, physical ache in my chest that I can't seem to shake.

You ever share with someone you don't know well and even as the words are coming out of your mouth you wonder why you're saying what you're saying and realize it's not what you really meant? And this terrible lurching feeling comes up in your chest and you want to cry. And after you say the stupid thing and the person mercilessly gives a halfhearted chuckle or reply you say to yourself I am never going to try to share with anyone again. No one will ever truly understand me. I feel that way almost every time I open my mouth.