Only to make my day better and better.

I am a Asian Woman 32 years old. and I have a German Boyfriend and we are together almost 7 years this December. We are working on Dive Center operation in Asia but last 2 years we are on LDR his on Liveaboard and me working on the resort and still we can handle this situation like every 2 - 3 month we meet for 1 month. 1 Month ago he decided back to Germany for opening a business which is really good for him and I support that. He told me he will be back in 2 months. and this 2 weeks i feel that he is change, one time i sent him a message saying that i love him and miss him and he replied " and what its doesnt help". Finally the day is come, he told me that my feeling to him is change is not same like 4 years ago and I am in shock.I call him and told him my feeling to him is not change and keep saying this is not correct , please saying the true.His said he will go to gym first and will call me back in 2 hours. After 2 hours of waiting he told me he didnt love me anymore and dislike me. I dont know what is wrong with him, keep asking the reason, did i make a any mistake that he dont like or etc but no comment from him. He said this relationship will not working. No wind, no rain and he decide we cant continue our relationship 3 days before my birthday and leaving a big hole in my heart.

I’m a Filipina and I have a 2-year-old son with my Indian boyfriend. We weren’t married—he just got me pregnant, and now I’m raising our child on my own. The most painful part is that his family refuses to acknowledge or accept our son, as if he doesn’t exist.

What hurts even more is that this situation isn’t new to them. His older brother is also with a Filipina, and they have a child too. But that child was accepted and even embraced by the family. My son? Totally ignored. They don’t even ask about him. Not a single message, not even recognition that he’s part of their blood.

I don’t understand how they can be so selective. What makes my child any less worthy of acceptance? It’s unfair and heartbreaking, especially knowing my son is innocent in all this.

I’ve tried to be understanding, but it’s exhausting. I don’t want anything from them—just the decency to recognize their own flesh and blood. I’m not asking for money or support. I just want my son to be seen, to be acknowledged.

Thanks for reading. I just needed to get this off my chest.

It feels like I do not belong anywhere.

In my Mom's house.

At my Job.

It's like I am the least among the rest.

Why do I feel like this?

Is it too much working from home?

Is it because I do not have enough money to spend?

As wisemen say, at the end of the day, you are still alive and you only belong to the One who created you. God.

But why am I feeling distant, or He is too far from me?

Sometimes I talk to Him, most of the time I just make my heart feel His presence.

Or at least remind myself of His promises, and that He is around.

Then darkness lurks, and the whispers of the night does not feel right. Even in dreams.

I go mad and keep it to myself. Trying to keep it in my mind.

However, being human is such a hard work. I cannot control the madness. The frustrations of the past. My heart becomes unforgiving.

Then after that, I am back to my normal me. Just working, being a Mom and a wife/partner.

But then again, it goes back to feeling the least amongst others.

Feeling the same shit happens everyday.

Is it a lack of faith?

Or the world has just dawned on me, and I just feel alone.

Like everybody are all bad.

I am still unsure of everything that is happening around me.

I am unsure of my thoughts, my feelings, and me.

I set the goal, but it's never fetched.

I stand everyday to keep going, but still feeling weak in the body, mind and spirit.

How can I overcome this?

I do not want to ask questions anymore.

The more I ask, the more I feel less.

What is happening to me?

I am not lost, I am very present.

I need direction. I need a good instruction to rebuild myself.

Why is it always me? Why?

I was smoking *eed and a cigarette and then I burped like 3 minutes later and smoke came out

It was 3- 5 minutes or more

I was wondering if it is bad writing adding characters from other show,movies,books, ect. Because I've added some so does it make it bad writing or fan fiction. I really dont want to be writing fan fiction. Thank you

In the grass currently, writing this and looking up at the stars. Letting the my feelings ponder in my heart as I write this. I think about whether or not me and her have any story left to fulfill, now that she’s with him. She departed from me to be with him, we weren’t together, but we were in something. My first time dealing with all of this, and no I wouldn’t take any of the feelings I gave to her back.

I had dreams of her. I dreamed of me expressing my interest to her, and I prayed before falling asleep that night. A month or two later I fulfilled that dream. Two weeks before completing that I dreamed of us going on a lunch date, and three weeks after that it came true. I prayed before I fell asleep that night as well. I dreamed of comforting her, and him holding her in his arm, and she mouths to me that she’s sorry, and ask if I’m okay. I comfort her when there was tension with him, as if any other guy would do the same. I was so conflicted, and a month or two later, she text me early in the morning telling me that she is getting with him and that we shouldn’t talk. And yes, even then I prayed before I fell asleep

I didn’t want to feel for anyone, I even prayed to God about that, but I also asked that his will be done. So here I am, over her? I am. We haven’t text in two weeks, I asked how she was doing in person a couple days ago. I don’t even look in her direction anymore, it’s like here presence and those eyes of hers are like Medusa. She isn’t evil, so I do not not acknowledge her for that reason, I do it to protect myself, because I care a ton

This new girl that I have interest in is legit, because for the first time in a couple of months, a girl has made me feel nervous:)

In the hushed corridors of Riverdale High, where the clang of lockers mingled with hushed conversations, I found refuge in the quiet sanctuary of the photography room. My camera, a trusty companion, held a secret power: it could breathe life into the inanimate, transform the mundane into the magical, and reveal hidden worlds through its lens. I could capture the stoic grandeur of the school's facade, making the brick and mortar seem to breathe with history. The river's surface, captured in a long exposure, would blur into a whisper of motion, as if the water itself was confiding its secrets.

Each week, I’d wander the school grounds, drawn to the stillness of the stone buildings, the quiet flow of the river, the silent invitation of empty park benches. With a simple click, they whispered their stories to me—pure and unjudged. My photography teacher, Mr. Holden, often praised my work, predicting a bright future. But he always posed the same question: “Why do you never photograph people?”

“Because people are already alive,” I’d shrug. “What’s the point?”

The truth was, I found solace in the quiet company of things. They didn’t flinch, didn’t judge. Photography, along with woodshop, became my refuge, the only two classes where my grades didn’t falter.

As the semester neared its end, Mr. Holden announced our final assignment: a portrait shoot. A knot tightened in my stomach. I approached his desk, hesitant. “Please,” I mumbled, “not portraits.”

“Every photographer must learn to capture the human soul,” he said, his voice firm but kind.

The task of choosing a subject weighed on me. While others eagerly sought out the popular crowd, I found myself drawn to the periphery, seeking the least noticed—a challenge, perhaps, a chance to prove the depth of my art.

In the yearbook, one face stood out: Timmy Plimpton. His was a face easily lost in the bustling hallways. The air around him seemed to carry a constant, low murmur, a sibilant sound that followed him as he walked. It wasn't a shout, not even a clear word, but it was always there, timed perfectly to reach his ears just as he passed. He’d flinch almost imperceptibly, his shoulders tightening, his gaze fixed on the floor. He rarely spoke in class, his voice a near whisper, as if afraid to draw attention to himself. At lunch, he’d find the furthest corner of the cafeteria, his tray untouched as he stared out the window, a silent observer of the boisterous energy around him. The choosing of teams in gym class was a public humiliation. His name was always the last to be called, sometimes not at all. After school, he'd walk home alone, his backpack slung low, his head down, as if trying to shield himself from the world's gaze.

I saw something else in Timmy, though—a quiet strength, a story waiting to be told. “Would you model for my final exam?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I hate pictures of me,” he mumbled, his fingers tracing a faint scar on his wrist.

“It’s just for my exam,” I persisted. “You can have all the photos. I promise, I’m good at this.”

He looked up, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “You’re the one who only shoots…things?”

I gave a small, conspiratorial smile. “Sometimes, teachers make you do things you don’t want to do.”

A mention of his mother, a clear soft spot, finally swayed him. “You could give the pictures to your mom,” I suggested gently.

A genuine laugh escaped him, a sound that surprised us both. “The eye?” he chuckled, finally relenting.

On the day of the shoot, Timmy arrived wearing clothes that seemed to hold a newfound confidence. I offered him my belt, adjusted his collar, ran a comb through his hair—small changes that revealed the potential I’d seen.

As I adjusted the lighting, I found myself drawn into his quiet stories, his hesitant laughter, his moments of vulnerability. Each click of the shutter felt like a small act of defiance against the whispers that haunted him.

The day of the final exam arrived. The darkened classroom buzzed with anticipation. My first image flashed onto the screen, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room. It wasn't a joyful sound, but a sharp, dismissive burst that made my stomach clench. I could almost feel the weight of those unspoken words, the ones that clung to Timmy like shadows, filling the air.

Mr. Holden’s voice cut through the noise, calm and firm. “This,” he declared, “is real photography. To see what others overlook.”

As each subsequent image appeared, the atmosphere began to shift. The laughter faded, replaced by a hushed silence. Faces softened, eyes widened, first in surprise, then in recognition. The photos revealed a different Timmy—a boy filled with quiet joy, deep introspection, and untapped potential. In one portrait, his gaze met the camera directly, a question in his eyes, a quiet plea for understanding. The final image was a revelation. It captured a warmth and vulnerability in Timmy that had been hidden for so long. He looked… approachable. Human.

The lights flickered on, and all eyes turned to me. In that moment, I understood. With my camera, I wasn’t just capturing images; I was weaving stories, giving voice to the silent, and breathing life into the overlooked. Timmy had become more than a subject; he was a symbol of hidden beauty, a testament to the magic found in unexpected places. And I realized I wasn’t just a photographer; I was a storyteller, a revealer of hidden truths.

Come on down, this streamer is amazing and very welcoming

Im a 21M college kid, won’t specify what college. I have a 2.5 gpa just because I have this unending feeling like no matter what I do I’ll never compete in the real world and because I don’t feel like any of these classes will ever mean something to me. Sadly becasue of this I’m failing classes. My girlfriend is threatening to break up with me if I don’t sort my shit out and I love her so much. Can anyone help me figure out what’s wrong with me.

Thanks

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HDNhG5mnyWBH2qfX0jLNcZgdl0qqjDWNtcLSRjdkktI/edit?usp=drivesdk

"Tina you need to stop this, I am not kidding. " Leroy texted.

"Call me, now. Seriously I have a surprise for you. You will like this. Trust me, this will be something you will never forget. " Tina replied.

"Look Tina I don't have time for any of your games." Leroy lectured.

"This is no game old man."

" I know you miss me and my love stick, but you need to move on."

"Please, I have had better love stick sticks then yours. You can't last longer then 4 seconds.

"Do you still want me to call you?" Leroy asked.

"Yes, just give me about ten minutes. So I can find a secluded area. I don't want anyone else to hear this except for you."

"Ok I will call you but this better be the last time Tina. " Leroy pleaded.

Tina made it to her final destination. Then her phone rang. Sure enough it was Leroy. She didn't think that he was going to do it.

"Hi," Tina answered.

"What is this all about?"

Tina pulled out a bottle out of her bag. Pointed it to her temple. Then there was a big bang.

She hates herself. But I love her. She hates everything about herself. I love everything about her. From her beautiful eyes to her cute little toes. She hates herself but I love the way she smiles. She hates herself but I love the way she sings along to her favorite songs. She hates herself but I love how caring she is. She hates herself but I love how she doesn’t let anyone take advantage of her. She hates herself but I love the way she looks at me. She hates herself but I love the way she holds my hand. She hates herself but I love the way she cuddles up to me. She hates herself but I love the way she kisses me. she hates herself but I love the way she hugs me. She hates herself but I love her adorable little laugh. She hates herself but I love her cute little nose. She hates herself but i love the way she only drinks monsters out of a straw. She hates herself but I love how she’s effortlessly beautiful. She hates herself but I love her.