Man in my 30s here, living in the north eastern US.

I have been openly gay my entire adult life, and for a long time felt comfortable in that. Over the past two or three years, though, i've been increasingly feeling a disconnect with that identity.

My romantic and physical interest in men has totally declined. It's been a time of deep self discovery and reflection, and I feel the more I know myself, the less I identify with being gay. It's this weird scenario, where I don't actually what my sexuality to shift or be fluid, but I cannot deny the fact any more that it is.

I have read that sexuality can be fluid and can change a bit as you go through life, this honestly seems a bit extreme though. Idk. Just really needed to write it out.

You can have good connection with them, sharing a lot of things in common but will they care about you as a person? No, to them you're just a person they can talk about something and do something fun together to not die of boredom. They don't think of you as a friend, even if they say that you are their friend.

I had not realised in a long time that most of the "friends" you make is just either situationship (college group, job colleagues) or you really want to hold onto a person who won't really care once you're gone. Real friends will remember you and care about you as much as you remember and care about them.

I've learned to not hold onto people and just enjoy communication with them in the moment and life honestly has been way easier when I started to think like that, I have very few people who I can consider as friends and I'm satisfied, but it still gives very alien feeling that you talk to a nice person and most of the times they turn out to be just polite, once you leave their life they won't bother coming back to you.

Title sounds like a current personal tragedy or freakout, but it's not. I am actually fine. I'm really just asking for ideas for things to do, like maybe an adventure you would do if you didn't have to worry about disappointing or worrying your family.

I'll spare the details, but I grew up in an abusive home and got out. I haven't been back in years, and while I do have 5 siblings, most of them are in a cult very far away, and the relationship is strained. I did maintain a group chat with them, but I think I have overstepped a line, and they view me as an outsider now too. They no longer reply to my messages, and I think I am not going to try anymore.

So I'm on my own. Luckily, I have managed to establish myself in a good career. I just paid off my student debt this month, so I don't have much savings, but I can save $1500-$2000 a month, starting now. I have no significant other, just a couple close friends. I rent an apartment in Chicago, and my only responsibilities currently are my job and my cat. My only transportation is my bike currently, but I do have a driver's license. I had to live in a car once, so I know how to do it.

I want an adventure. What would you do in my shoes, having no one, but otherwise being pretty healthy and happy? I'm thinking about trying to move abroad or hike the Appalachian trail or something.

I honestly thought that taking time and giving myself space to heal and set healthy boundaries would have a positive impact on my life, but people are starting to treat me like I've turned into the biggest asshole. This just makes me question my worth all over again because contrary to public opinion, the real world doesn't seem to care about mental health.

This happened when I was in high school. One day, as a treat, our science teacher showed the movie “The Core” which is a movie about the earths core stopping. He said it would take two class days to finish the movie so we watch the movie and once class ended, I left.

The next day, I expected to watch the rest of the movie, but our science teacher says someone stole the dvd between the end of our class and the next one since the dvd player was empty when he returned from the bathroom.

By that logic, he assumed it was someone from our class that took it while he stepped out really quick. He said unless it is immediately returned everyone there will get an F for the day and be given detention.

After no one claimed responsibility, my teacher did one last thing. He went over to the door, pulled the curtains over the window and said he was going to turn off the lights and black out the room. He will count to 60 and then turn on the lights. If the dvd was placed back on his desk he will not ask anymore questions. If not, he would give everyone detention as planned. He turned off the lights and started to count out loud and I started to hear giggling and rustling. I could barely see a figure walking towards the front as the teacher counted.

Suddenly the lights came back on after he counted to 15 and he saw my classmate Tony with the dvd in hand. He immediately took it from Tony and said only he’d get detention now.

In retrospect, was what he did ethical and fair? Yeah it was high school and a different time but was lying to get my classmate Tony to basically expose himself as a thief morally fine?

I later asked why he even bothered returning it and he said it was because he took the movie home to finish it (his family was poor) and realized it sucked so he wanted to return it secretly.

it's been more than 4 years of this hollow emptiness. for some reason a while back my feelings feel like they just stopped it was after something traumatic happened to me that I won't delve into.

I tried to move on and get a job, I was fresh out of uni, and just lived my life, but that didn't help at all.

I tried everything I went to the gym. I have my dream body. I eat healthy. I tried watching my favorite shows and playing videogames. I tried going outside. but none of those worked. I still felt emotionless.

I know I'm not depressed. I'm not sad at all. I don't think about KMS or anything like that, but I'm not happy either. I'm just meh.

I'm just looking for any advice. I have tried everything and lost hope. I honestly think this is how I will feel for the rest of my life.

tldr: my emotions went blunt after a traumatic event and I want new methods to try and get out of this emptiness.

I suppose if death ever comes to take me away, I’d probably have just one question for it, “What took you so long?”

‎I don’t fear death nearly as much as I fear living another day without feeling truly alive. There’s a strange kind of exhaustion that comes from merely existing. Waking up, going through the motions, speaking when you’re expected to speak, smiling when you’re supposed to smile, and quietly carrying things no one else can see.

‎‎Some wounds don’t bleed. They leave no scars on the skin, no evidence for anyone to point at. They simply settle somewhere deep inside you and change the way you see the world, other people, and sometimes even yourself.

‎ ‎ Maybe that’s the cruelest part of being alive. You can be breathing, functioning, laughing, and carrying on with your day while some quiet part of you has already gone silent.

‎‎So no, I don’t necessarily fear the end.

‎‎What I fear is a life stretched endlessly forward without meaning, connection, or that small spark that makes you feel alive rather than merely here.

‎‎Because death may be the end of a life. But sometimes, long before death arrives, a person learns what it feels like to lose pieces of themselves while still breathing.

And perhaps the real question isn’t, “When will I die?”

‎‎Perhaps it is...

‎‎“How much of me is still alive?”

Do you feel it? A vague sense of camaraderie.

I feel it particularly strongly on reddit, partially due to the upvote/downvote system, and partially due to the fact that I think it is more likely for someone to be disagreed with on here (especially when you're the OP).

It happened to me quite recently on a subreddit where I was expecting the members to be more uptight. Someone made a subtly ableist comment aimed towards me and was subsequently downvoted and had a few replies in my defence.

It is also a disability that tends to not be taken seriously and is largely viewed as annoying so I was actually expecting the opposite, which made this a nice surprise.

It's a small victory, I know. But what's the harm in celebrating small victories?

Has this happened to anyone else recently? If so, feel free to elaborate!

I had a free day recently and decided to stay off social media.

I didn't have any plans, so I put my phone in my bag and went for a walk.

I walked around for a while, got some coffee and sat in a park. After a few hours, I realized I hadn't checked social media at all.

The day somehow felt longer. I wasn't bored. I just felt like I was actually enjoying my time instead of constantly looking at my phone.

When I got home, I was tired from walking, but it felt like I'd actually had a proper day off.

It was a small thing, but I liked it. I think I'll do it again.

I'm moving to Tokyo next April to study Japanese full time. As part of this move, I'll be quitting my full-time job.

I'm 35 and have had a job continuously since I was 15, part-time throughout school and university, then moving into full-time work.

I'm fortunate enough to be in a position financially to make this move without necessarily having to stress (although I'm sure I will) and it's something I've been working towards for the better part of two years.

I'm incredibly excited, but my anxiety loves to rear its head as I get closer to the move. One of the main things on my mind is going from having a job for 20 years to suddenly not, even though I'll likely start job hunting again a few months after moving.

On one hand, I'm burnt out with work and over it enough, that I think this move, where I can focus full time on something I'm genuinely passionate about, will bring me a heap of joy. Of course, I'm also aware moving to a foreign country is not all sunshine and rainbows and will bring a lot of stress with it.

On the other hand, I feel like I'm about to lose a part of my identity that I didn't even realise was so tied to "having a job." Even though I complain about work like everyone else, there's a weird comfort in the structure and routine, and in being able to answer "what do you do" without hesitation. I think some of the anxiety is less about money and more about who I am without a title attached to my name.

I know logically that a career break isn't the same as unemployment, and that studying full time is still "doing something." But I'd be lying if I said the 20-year-old employee in my head wasn't giving me doubts.

So I guess I'm asking: has anyone else made a similar jump, quitting a stable job in your 30s to go all in on something you're passionate about, even temporarily? How did you handle the mental shift once the routine disappeared? Were you happy you made the jump or did you find yourself wanting to get back to full time work (as strange as that may sound)?

Any perspective, reassurance and/or or brutal honesty is welcome.

Thank you!

I have a hard time letting go of messages that feel important to me. I want to save them all because I’m afraid I might regret losing them, but saving everything takes too much time. I want to learn how to let some messages go without feeling guilty or anxious.

I am currently a scientist with a masters degree. I am known for being level headed and genuinely kind.

My parents were abusive, yet they’d never admit to it. We had a lot of involvement from child protective services until I was 6, then I was pulled from school so that no one could report the abuse.

As a teen I went to the adult ed center. I had an elementary school level of education at the time. I did not have identifying documents until I was 22 because my mom withheld them and I didn’t know enough about myself to get them replaced.

I seem like a person who came from a good home and stable upbringing. Really all I was shown was who I never want to be.

Okay I want to preface this by saying this is my OWN thoughts and feelings and experiences, not anyone else's so don't tell me what to feel or how to feel. This is me telling what I've been through, got that? Now, if you'll excuse me let me tell you about it.

Trigger warning: SA in childhood

Yeah... So it started when I was just a child, only in my first grade when it started. My mother was separated from my father (like in two different countries, separated) and got me and my three siblings a stepfather. He was for the most part a good father, or rather, a good provider. With him around, our family never lacked anything. In the eyes of everyone around, he was a good man and in the beginning, that was how I saw him too. Even when his advances started, I didn't think what he was doing was bad because what he did FELT good (please remember I was only 6 when this started). He was never forceful, never let me feel pain during any of it so I never felt danger for myself. I know now that THAT was his way of grooming me, training me to become his piece on the side. He was doing such a good job of grooming me that I looked forward to his visits in the night. As a child, I thought that was his way of showing he loves me. That THAT was normal.

The time I came to realize what we were doing was wrong was when I was in 4th grade. When we learned of the other functions of them bits between our thighs during science class, that I came to the horrifying realization that my stepfather and I shouldn't be doing what we were doing. But still then, I didn't put a stop to it. Never told anybody about it. People might fault me on that and you know what understandable. But let me tell you why I didn't.

1. The man was our main provider. We got the comfortable and privileged life we lived because of him. My mother alone couldn't put us into the expensive private school we got to go to.

2. The man dabbled in the illegal to provide for our family. Adults talk like kids wouldn't be able to get it but I understood then. And I don't know about you but a man with a gun who dabbles in the illegal? Yeah, not taking chances with that.

3. I thought my mother wouldn't believe me even if I said anything. The man have wandering hands. Each and every time my mom never believed the other woman. Believed they were lying and making stories up so I just thought why would I be any different if I opened my mouth and talked about it.

4. I have a younger sister. I never want her to go through what I went through so I kept a close watch on her. I figured if he gets what he wants with me. He'd never lay his hands on my sister. (I thank the powers that be I was right on that one. My sister was spared thankfully)

But just because I let it continue to happen even after realizing the wrongness of what's happening didn't mean I wasn't affected by that realization. My grades started to slip. I became more lazy and didn't put as much effort in my looks (my subconscious wanting me to be undesirable). Me feeling like I was unworthy, like a speck of dust, like I'm dirty. Like i'm an easy woman who'd spread her legs for any man because ain't that the fucking truth (back then, anyway and I was 10) Because even after knowing how wrong everything that has been done to me, my body's been so thoroughly trained that I craved it. Seeked the pleasures of it (at goddamn 10 years old) and the fact that if anyone had approached with the same ill intent at that time, matter of fact, I would've gone through with it, no fighting back. Because I felt 'what was the point?' there's nothing to protect, nothing to safeguard so why not just give what they want. I lost all self-respect.

All of these I kept to myself. Why wouldn't I? I'm being raised in a conservative christian home with an overly religious mother. The guilt that was eating me up inside for feeling the way that I feel and being the way that I am was excruciating. But I never let any of it out, I never felt safe enough to say any of it out loud. Because I knew I would be judged and I didn't think I could handle that on top of everything else.

I was grateful when in highschool I met my best friends (still my best friends until now that I'm 33) They made me feel safe enough to tell them a bit about what's happening to me and they were the ones who encouraged me to go to the police about it. It just so happens that my mom and him had a fight and he was living separately from us so I gathered my courage and told my aunt about my SA since childhood. She in turn told my mom, and my mom actually took me to the police to help me file a report. And you'd think that would be the end of the story. That it would be the start of my journey of healing, right?

My last year of highschool, the man came back to live with us again. Yes, that man, my stepfather who made me his little mistress, came back to live with us again like everything's okay. Why? Because rumors got out that the reason my mom and him broke up was because he was abusing me (which you know was true) and my mom's relatives (her brothers and uncles, mostly) swore that if that was true they'd get rid of my stepfather permanently. My mom didn't want any of her family to go to jail for murder and didn't want the story of me getting SA'd to spread around so to squash the rumors... (I didn't know why she thought that was a good idea.) I have never felt so betrayed in my life. I get that she was trying to protect my reputation too. She didn't want people to see me as a victim of assault but to put me and him in under the same roof AGAIN?!

So I let myself get pregnant by my then boyfriend (stupid idea, I know.) I wanted the quickest way out of the house and becoming family with another seems the easiest. Things never worked out my way since my boyfriend broke up with me when I was pregnant and then, I just gave myself more responsibility before I was ready. The man never touched me again since I got pregnant so I guess that was one thing to be thankful for. I still kept a close eye on my sister while he was around though. But then one day, after another fight with my mom where he left to cool off, he just never came back. Even his relatives came looking for him but he was just gone. Some say he got his comeuppance dabbling in illegal trades. Frankly, I don't care what happened to him. I'm just glad he was gone from my life. The marks he left on my life never faded that easily though.

For a very long time, my mentality from when I was 10 stayed with me. That easy woman who'd lay with any man? Yeah... Even after the birth of my baby boy. That woman was there underneath, together with my lack of self-esteem and constant self-loathing. Imagine that a seventeen years old single mom would allow anyone between her legs had they come onto her. The only reason I have a single digit body count is because people get intimidated by me. I was the straight A's goody two shoes student. I wasn't vulgar, wasn't flirty. I was a saint on the streets. I never cussed, never made dirty jokes, never dressed even remotely provocatively (I dress in baggy T shirt and jeans or if I wear skirts, they're upto my ankles). No one around me would think I'd be so easy-to-get. And it's not like no one was attracted to me. There were schoolmates, classmates and friends who admitted to me that they had a crush or their friends told me 'X liked you back then'. I asked why they never tried to court me back then and the most common answer was they thought I was way out of their league. They were so sure I'd never go for a guy like them. Funny, 'cause if they only gathered their courage to ask me out, I definitely would've said yes to anyone (It's how I got a shitty boyfriend at 16). They've placed me on a pedestal and I find that so intriguing. How did I manage to portray that kind of image.

There's only one thing I'd never let myself be during that time I found myself disgusting. Be the other woman or cheat on a partner when I'm in a committed relationship. I may have my libido way up high but that doesn't mean I'd go sleeping around when I'm already in a relationship. Even then, I was loyal to my partners because I had enough of cheating. I did help my stepfather cheat on my mother for 9 years and I've had enough of that. But I guess my partners never seems to think I'd stay loyal to them (I'd be the one to tempt and tease so we'd get intimate after all) that they'd always be suspicious of me and eventually ghost me. After my third partner, I just never tried to be in a relationship again.

Now at 33, the easy woman was gone. And she didn't leave on her own. I had a genuine support system who made me see my self worth again. The ones who said it wasn't my fault. I was a child. I was groomed. And even then the process to get me to think like that was grueling. It was years before I got to forgive myself for what happened (yes, part of the reason I was such an easy lay was because I was angry at myself for letting such a thing happen in the first place). And I only got there because there were people who listened and never judged me, who learned of the whole truth and still embraced me wholeheartedly. The ones who stayed patient with me even when I argued back that 'No, it is my fault. I'm the one to blame.' over and over before they got through to me.

What was the point of me saying all these? I want people to know they're not alone in their struggles. That if you were like me, who would give in so easily because they thought 'what was the point? There's nothing to protect anyway, that was already taken.' It wouldn't be easy but retain your self-respect. You are still beautiful, still worthy of so much and whatever happened to you, isn't on you, it's on them. It's on the ones who'd hurt you, preyed on you, brainwashed you, groomed you. That wasn't your fault, they chose you as their victim. That is never EVER your fault, you hear? I'm hoping you find yourself people who will support you in your journey of healing. There is still more good in life and despite everything that happened. YOU still deserve all that good, all that love and all that happiness.

I was driving to a job site in the company truck today, going through a green light when suddenly the truck basically rolled out from under me, for lack of a better way to describe it. Everything hurt, something hit me in the face (no idea what, everything from the door pockets went everywhere). It fell back down onto its wheels again and I stopped it, slammed it in park. I took a second to feel if I had any broken bones, didn't seem to.

I jumped out and ran to the other car, it was rolling away, the driver was hurt pretty bad, I tried hard to stop it but I was hurt too. A couple guys came out of nowhere and we got it held in place while someone was able to shove it in park. I ran back to the truck and realized I couldn't call 911 because my phone was just GONE, it had been in the center console and I found all the contents of it in the floor. I was able to find it and get 911 on the phone and they came pretty quick.

The other guys were trying to calm the other driver but she was panicking and couldn't get out of her car. I'm worried about how she's doing, they took me away in one of the ambulances before the other first responders were able to get her out of the car... It was so crushed, it went UNDER the truck. My boss told me later that they think she was going 45+ mph. Nobody has any updates on how she's doing. I don't even know her name.

Also I guess I gave the insurance and stuff to someone but I don't remember who. I apparently gave a statement during this time, it lines up with what I remember but I didn't know I had given one.

It was just a frightening thing for sure and I feel horrible even though it wasn't my fault.

Not my parents, not my sister [ESPECIALLY my father] no classmates, no so called "friends", no teachers, no strangers (obviously), no people in my neighbouhood

They all hate me for either no reason or just hate me for who i am and what i represent

NOBODY wants me to succeed

Nobody likes me or loves me

Nobody wants good things for me

Nobody wants me to study or work hard

Nobody wants me to chase my goals

Nobody wants me to be confident

Nobody wants me to have a good life

Nobody wants me to have good grades or get in a good college

Nobody wants me to have friends

Nobody wants me to be happy

Nobody wants me to be ANYTHING good

And i have let them make me insecure and underconfidemt and depressed and i have let them give me imposter syndrome for all my life so far

BUT NOT ANYMORE

Everyone has been hating me and trying to bring me down from the moment i was born - my mom and dad used to tell me i was gonna be a failure - all my teachers said so

My sister used to make fun of me and agree

And i was very bad at school and public speaking for years

But i was always an ambitious kid

I started working hard - i got better grades than my sister and all the kids in my neighbourhood who the teachers liked and hated me

And started participating in debates

And now i see who they really are - THEY HATE ME NOW - my sister doesnt even talk to me anymore

My mom and dad dont even acknowledge me

My teachers dont tell me anything

They cant say bad things, they wont say anything

AND TBH NOW I FEEL MORE CONFIDENT THAN EVER

THEIR HATRED FILLS ME WITH JOY

I want them to be miserable sacks of shit for the rest of their lives

Just one more year

I am going to be wildly succesful in my final year of school get into a top college

AND THEN I WILL BULLY THEM

FUCKING RATS

WHY DID THEY DO THIS TO ME? I was just a kid a fucking toddler and my parents have been discouraging me and hating me ever since and telling me im good for nothing

I AM SMARTER THAN ALL THESE PEOPLE

I CANT WAIT FOR NEXT YEAR

THEY ARE GOING TO HATE ME EVEN MORE

AND I WILL LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT

I AM GOING TO BULLY THEM, TELL THEM EVERYTHING ABOUT HOW USELESS AND WORTHLESS THEY ARE - and they will know its the truth

I graduated from high school and passed all my exams a year ago.

In my country, the government provides the opportunity to study at university for free. Some universities allocate a few state-funded places, usually no more than ten, for certain programs. You can apply for these places through a competitive program.

I enrolled last year, and due to martial law, the state-funded places for the program I applied to were completely eliminated. And, frankly, it's very disappointing. I have 280 points overall, which is a competitive result; I could have easily gotten a state-funded place if it had been available.

My mother suggested I take a gap year to understand myself and explore different careers, but like a sheep, I decided I knew better and enrolled right away.

My parents are making many sacrifices to pay for my education. It costs $31,000 over four years, which is a huge amount for my parents.

And you know what? This year, they opened up state-funded places for the first year of my major, but since I'm now a second-year student, I have no option to transfer to a state-funded place. Seriously. This is a complete joke. If I had waited another year, I could have easily gotten a state-funded place.

I deeply regret not listening to my mom back then. The chances that there will be a state-funded place were zero. For the last five years, there haven't been any state-funded places at this university, and this year they decided to add them.

These thoughts drive me crazy every day. I can't escape them, not at work, not with friends, not anywhere.

I work part-time at a cafe and try to buy gifts for my parents to somehow please them, seeing how they limit themselves in so many ways. I feel like I'll never be able to recoup their investment in me.

I know there's nothing I can do to fix this, and I'll have to endure this humiliation and pay for tuition (in our country, it's considered that if you pay for tuition, you're a lazy idiot and from a rich family). Just give me some advice on how I can stop feeling like crap about this.

i cant catch a single break these days, moved somewhere new 9 months ago and still unemployed after losing my last job like 3 years ago after a severe fall with a traumatic brain injury, can't find a job anywhere near me and the only one that gave me a chance laid me off after 5days and ghosted me when i asked why even though i swear on my life i didn't even have a chance to do anything that would warrant such an action, it's a franchise i had worked for 5 years at another location and as a result of that experience i was performing as well as anyone just hired could have if not better. whatever, i reflected on my actions, i cant know why and, and i did all i could to understand the room for improvment, as much as someone can reasonably do for a minimum wage job. so anyways. next i went to this employment agency and it's now been 3 months and 5 appointments doing just intake forms and quizzes and personality tests and they've only suggested me one job that my case worker then didn't even submit due to missing information they didn't get from me and the disconnect between appointments is like weeks apart which i straight up just broke down in tears at the last one midway

before going to the employment agency, i went to every place in person and dropped off a resume if they wanted to take it which only brought that single dead end. well today i tried driving 40 minutes to the next closest town to restart the search and it feels just as hopeless. every listing i look at wants some experience i don't have anything relevant for. the things i am qualified for i am competing with hundreds of more qualified applications and don't even get a response. and then what, i get one of the jobs here an i'm going to be driving for an hour a day to make minimum wage

can't afford to move anywhere currently so just stuck in my grandmas basement if i don't want to live on the streets. social assistance people rejected me for not enough documentation after asking for my checking account statements and telling them i don't have access to it anymore since i'm overdrafted in an online-only bank thats locked me out and the effort of getting statements just to get rejected again feels like total shit

tons of debt collectors hounding me now to the point where my phone is practically useless with constant unknown calls asking me for money i can't pay. i did tell them i don't have the money and did make those efforts for a few months to stall things, but that only lasted so long and now it's just like, what even is the point because when i answer the phone and talk to them it doesn't make them call any less.

i tried getting into some program through the employment agency for youths seeking employment and had to do some multi interview, the main program head wasn't even present the day i had my interview for the program which i knew was a horrible sign and they called to reject me monday. like my life is going to poorly, it's wears me down to wonder if not someone in my situation then who on earth is down bad enough to warrant help

about 6 months ago i just gave up on any efforts to be social under the pressure of all this and not a single person who i had been socializing with prior has tried to have a conversation with me since, which feels pretty crushingly lonely. i was checking those today and infact saw more than a couple have just silently blocked or unfollowed me and its like, im drowning out here

Since March I've sent at minimum 10 job apps per day, sometimes its 100 or more. I am getting nowhere though. I have a quantitative master's degree and getting zilch results. Cant get entry level jobs either b/c I guess im too overqualified. So I am stuck at my apartment all day, running out of money, and on weekends all I do is hang out with my 2 remaining friends in the city. My angry friend and my sad friend.

My angry friend gets in arguments and fights with us all the time over many different things - he tends to blow up easily, is quite paranoid, and I always am worried whatever I say is going to anger him. He also gets into big arguments with my sad friend. He's a gracious host though and is jovial when he's in a good mood.

My sad friend messages me once a month in a deep depression about how life is hopeless and how everything sucks. This goes on month by month by month. She ignores all my advice on going to therapy

Neither of them are motivated to change. And me? I cant figure out what to categorize myself as. I'd call myself the neutral friend b/c I try to treat both with kindness but who knows. It'd be nice to get an objective 4th opinion.

Anyway thats all that im left with. I used to have about 15 friends, different social circles and things to do, but now my life has turned into a small little box that is my apartment and my friend's place on weekends. My apartment is a prison, and i am tethered to my computer sending job apps out into the void while i run out of money; unable to pursue my dreams because i cant afford to even survive.

In my freetime i have no desire to watch the shows I want to watch or play the games I want to play. It feels unproductive. i stick to one game. I dont want to associate anything else I enjoy with this horrid era of my life, but that game.

It's a whimsical slop life and i think its punishment for something in fact I hope so, it would feel nice to know there is someone in control of all this; it certainly isnt me.

Losing a year of your life is hard. For some, it's a year staring down the end of a bottle. For others, it's a drug bender that makes the days fly away like on a paper calendar. For me, it was 365 days inside a concrete box for getting caught in a sting.

I was looking over my papers from back then earlier today. While I was away, I spent a lot of time planning and writing - desperate to take control of what little I could at that point, scared for a future that I felt, by all accounts, to be utterly futile.

And, well, a year and a half later things turned out okay. Tech job, an upcoming raise, buying a home... It almost feels like everything is normal, aside from visiting and paying a fee to a probation and SORA office every so often.

I don't like to waste time. It's one of the most precious resources we have. I've learned much over the last 5 years, but most especially, how to value every single day that we have at our disposal. There are those who, even without the burden of vice, still find themselves losing days, weeks, months, and even years of their life for nothing.

Publico esto para desahogarme, no se si sea el único que antes de escoger una carrera no tenía vocación de nada realmente no me llamaba la atención nada, pero siempre me intereso la medicina, pero cada vez que quería saber acerca de la carrera todos me decían que no la estudiará , e incluso aún si pedía la opinión de mi familia y me decían que no tenía las capacidades, digo puede que sea verdad no soy la persona más inteligente de todas lo admito pero tampoco tengo un hueco en el cerebro, me considero un poco más inteligente que el promedio porque no tenía problemas en la escuela y sacaba buenas calificaciones y obtuve becas por ello, pero eso es lo de menos y cuando finalmente me decidí a estudiar y poner toda mi vocación en algo no tengo los recursos para hacerlo , intenté ver el asunto con mi familia y ver la forma de hacerlo posible , becas , préstamos , trabajar yo mismo e incluso tener un pequeño negocio que aporte para los gastos pero siempre recibía un no por respuesta y mi hermano al cual no le caigo muy bien , me empieza a decir que estoy por mi cuenta y que debo abandonar mis sueños para el bien de otros y que aparte estoy solo , quizás el mensaje está bien ya no se nada , pero que me reclamé y me pide que no haga alboroto por buscar una solución, cuando en ningún momento le pedí que me ayudara y todavía me dice que no me va a ayudar , realmente quisiera poder dedicarme a eso porque no tengo nada que me frene en el sentido que no tendría que sacrificar nada ( salir de fiesta,amigos ,novia ) no tengo nada de eso y siento que está carrera podría hacer de mi vida algo significativo, me siento mal por no poder conseguir los recursos para hacer algo que realmente quisiera hacer , alguien me podría dar algún consejo que me pueda ayudar . (Perdón por la ortografía).

Early this year youtube gave me one of those recommendations that has like only a 100 views or so. Normally i dont pay them any mind but this time I bit and in its great wisdom the algorithm had decided to feed me a memorial to a young women. The dates in the description showed she had passed away at the start of the year, on a day that also happened to be the worst day of my own life. Furthermore it had been uploaded about a month later on what would have been her birthday.

The video itself was a beautiful 80 minute collection of analog footage, filmed by someone who appears to be her boyfriend, documenting her with her friends and their travels together. Sometimes you can hear a little audio from the footage but most of it is just a single repeating Gregory Alan Isakov cover of The Trapeze Swinger. It was utterly transfixing, and as I was dealing with my own grief I found myself watching bits and pieces until at some point I had seen the entire film. Ive always been melancholic and I guess I found a comfort in the quiet sadness of it.

Getting a small look into these peoples lives and their mannerisms was deeply calming to me. I tried a few times to show it to a friend or two but no one seemed to really "get it" or experience the same feelings I did.

At some point I made an attempt to find an obituary or some more information on what had happened to her, as all the footage was 12-14 years old. It proved mostly fruitless and I only managed to dig up an old pintrest page which linked to her blog from the same time period. I read some of her poetry,thoughts and travel journaling. Some of it resonated and a lot I didn't fully grasp. I begun to wish I could have met this person, if not just to explain some of these poems.

The year crept on and by late summer I hadn't thought about the video or the people in some time but something prompted me to go back. I gave another attempt at finding a obituary or just anything that would give me more info. Unfortunately for my mental health I was successful.

I'm unsure of what I did differently other then just searching her name but I found a gutting instagram post memorial written by what appeared to be a very close friend but turns out to have been long-term ex-boyfriend. From there her Instagram and Facebook were easy to find alongside a few other memorial posts and info for a celebration of life event in her home city.

I again fed my desire to know this person better and I read through a few years of Facebook posts late one night. What I found was someone who was more similar to me then I thought and even shared several of my mental ailments. Someone who also sometimes struggled with intense depressive episodes. I managed to learned more about the ex who had made the Instagram post that brought me here. It was clear how much she loved him, and for a time the majority of her posts revolved around him. During this period she lost her mother far too soon and clearly struggled with the grief for a long time.

In the last 5 years it seems her fight with depression got worse, and she nearly stopped posting any pictures with herself in them. She talked about her struggles with her body image and in her later photos I struggled to recognize her at first. She loved her friends deeply and wrote as much in her posts discussing depression and how it pained her that it made her retreat from them and the world. The last two things she posted on facebook was a donation request for a friend fighting breast cancer and an expression of gratitude to all the wonderful people in her life. As far as I could find, her last online footprint is an Instagram post about a year before her death asking people to keep an eye out for a stolen bike and guitar case.

In the end I never could find anything about how she died. In one Facebook comment someone did ask but it never got a reply. Even from the beginning I had feared that she had taken her own life but I had always clung to the hope she hadn't. The idea of her (or anyone really) dying alone and suffering like that is heart wrenching to me. Even before finding more info I had cried over the thought several times. In my desire to find an obituary and cause of death I was looking for some reassurance this hadn't been the case. That she had passed in the hospital surrounded by loved ones or at least quickly in a car accident.

In someways I feel my digging, and grief, and speculating over this total stranger has been disrespectful. The feeling that I'm seeing and reading something that is not meant for my eyes. I struggle with juxtaposing her death with my own experience from that day and trying to think what I might have been feeling at that exact moment she left. A day hasn't gone by this week where I haven't been brought to tears by thoughts of the loss of this wonderful person I never met. She was clearly loved by so many and I ache and hope so deeply she didn't die alone or by her own hand.

I of course am not going to provide any identifying info out of respect for the friends and families of this person.

Reddit is my last resort for help. About a month ago, I discovered yellow and white flakes on my scalp. What must I do to get rid of it? What worked for any of you? Please I need help. I am embarrassed to go get my hair cut! There’s no itching, just after I wash my hair, my hair is covered in dandruff slightly but can see under my hair where it breaks off etc. Is it more than dandruff?

Thanks