Anonymous People Reveal Their Deepest, Darkest Secret

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Secrets. Every one of us has them, and we all try to do our very best to keep them away. The darkest secrets never really get to see the light of day, but for those that do, there’s normally a whole bunch of consequences that get to haunt most of the guys involved for days on end.

Despite all this, few things compare to the huge sigh of relief that comes after coming clean and getting everything off your chest. That’s probably why some Redditors thought it best to share aspects about their private lives with anyone who would care to know.

Here’s what they had to say about their deepest, darkest secrets. Due to the nature of this article, some of the stories included contain dark and sensitive material.

 

#25 Didn’t Think I Had It In Me

Once, a lady ran up to me at a really bad corner in town. I thought I knew her from around since she ran towards and hugged me immediately. She then backed off and started speaking in a way I couldn’t understand; she is one of the many mentally ill substance addicts of the area.

A few minutes later, she does the same to a 50ish-year-old guy. He gets very weird with her, pushing her against a bus stop and stating in a dark, matter-of-fact manner, that they’ll probably be spending the night together. She is looking downward all the while, half in tears, mumbling, shaking her head violently while he inappropriately touches her.

I start yelling at him. He yells at me a bunch, and I back down.

Then he grabs her by the wrist and starts pulling her towards the alley. I’m terrified, in tears, under the influence, and very angry. She screams. I pull the bottle out of my bag, yell at him, and get hit in the face. I hit him back with the bottle. She runs. I hit him again and he falls. The last time I hit him it broke over his face, then I gave him one deep cut across his cheek area, maybe hitting his eye a bit.

I ran away crying then puked. This is the only time I’ve ever been in a fight, and I’ve become a bit afraid of myself because of it.

iknowthatuknow

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#24 Good Riddance!

When I was about 9, my dad got wrongly diagnosed with a couple different psychological disorders. His psychiatrist prescribed medication which after he took, it felt like he wasn’t there anymore. He was in his own world most of the time… So, that leads to this…

My dad remarried to my stepmom, who had 3 children, 2 boys, and 1 girl. I was 9 at the time, my brothers were 5 and 13 and my sister was about 7. My oldest stepbrother regularly assaulted my younger brother and sister. This problem carried into a lot of other things as well as acting up. My little brother used to run around the house throwing stuff all the time. He would do it as bad behavior, but would mainly do it when my oldest brother was chasing him to hurt him. I would wake up in the middle of the night to him really disturbing them, and telling them to be quiet. To this day, I just remember the look on his face and in his eyes while in the moment. I will never forget it. He was eventually put in juvenile jail.

Also, my stepmom used to make me sleep outside on the ground. If I fell asleep inside, she would wake me up, drag me by whatever limb she could hold onto and put me outside. No blankets, no pillow. Nothing. 100 degrees or 25 degrees. It didn’t matter. I was often locked out of the house when my dad was gone to work also. The minute he left, my stepmom would just make my life really hard.

I bring up the medication my dad was on because he was a very good dad and my best friend, and in the right mind, he would have never allowed that. He eventually went to a different doctor, started taking different medicine and left her. I’m so glad all that suffering got to end. I still remember the day it finally broke. My dad and stepmom were screaming at the top of their lungs and my dad told her that he was gonna leave her and told me to get my stuff. I jumped on the kitchen counter, got right in her face and basically told her that from that point, whatever she says doesn’t really matter to me anymore.

cameron0208

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#23 Better This Way

When people ask me about my siblings, I will first tell them that I have an older brother (8 years older) and a younger sister (4 years younger). The full truth is, I once had another sister, Brittany; she was a year and a half younger than me.

During my mother’s pregnancy with my sister Brittany, a test showed that my sister may have had a birth defect (maybe Down syndrome), but a later test showed that everything seemed ok. Nobody suspected a thing, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she was born.

When she was born, they saw that she had a cleft lip and palate; this was how they first noticed her problem. My sister had Edwards syndrome, a chromosomal birth disorder. Pretty much no one that has it makes it to adulthood; someone with the disorder is “lucky” (if you can call it that) to survive a year. (Wikipedia says 8% make it beyond 1 year). She lived a year, a month, and a day.

In addition to her cleft lip and cleft palate, my sister was deaf and mentally challenged. She was unable to eat and had to be fed through a feeding tube, which would make her cry and often throw up. Her head was somewhat large, relative to her body, and her muscles weren’t well-developed, so she was never able to sit up by herself. (Most babies are able to sit by around 8 months). They couldn’t take her outside in the sun for very long; she would get red and irritated.

Initially, my parents didn’t want to do the surgery to fix my sister’s cleft palate. She couldn’t have surgery anyway until she was (I think) ten pounds because she would need anesthetic… so they had to at least wait until she was older. When she made it to one year old (beyond anyone’s expectations), my parents began to consider that my sister just might survive for a while, so they decided to go ahead with the surgery to fix her cleft palate. She didn’t wake up from the surgery. My mom says that it was likely for the best; my sister didn’t live a very pleasant life.

dc880610

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#22 The Things We Do For Love

I’ve always looked after my little brother and have stepped in to fill the role my dad left behind. I’m 26 and my brother is 15.

One day my brother breaks down crying and I’m thinking “either our mom has cancer or a girl broke up with him.” I ask him whats wrong and his response was that he wasn’t comfortable as a guy. I laugh thinking he’s joking like he does but he keeps at it. Usually, he will break and admit it but he didn’t break this time. I was shocked and it felt surreal while we talked. We talked for a couple hours and as a loving brother I was supportive and gave him all the information I could.

Well to wrap it up whenever my brother comes to stay with me on weekends and he doesn’t really dress how you’d expect. I always refer to him as ‘her’ and he goes by Brittany.

It weirds me out but I see how much he enjoys being who he wants to be at my place. We still do the usual like video games and movies but he’s stopped working out with me because he doesn’t want to build muscle.

So my little brother turns into Brittany on weekends and very much plays the role. His voice was pretty soft and gender neutral to begin with but now its completely changed.

The worst thing about it is I never have the house to myself on weekends. He will always want to stay at my place because it’s his ‘favorite time’ and I cant break his heart by telling him no since he’s pretty miserable during the week. I’m pretty sure our mom would  get really mad if she found out A) Everything I knew about my small brother, and B) How supportive I was

I love my brother and consider myself his guardian, I try to be supportive even though its weird (I’m pretty conservative) but it’s my brother you know?

throwawaybrosier

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#21 Eye Catching

When I was very little (probably around 3-4) I used to play a game with my parents where I’d go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before bed, and when I got to my room they’d pretend to be asleep and I’d find creative ways to “wake them up.”

Being so young, I thought my dad was superhero-style indestructible, and in thinking so I decided to try something that would hurt a kid like me but wouldn’t harm him at all since he was “big.” I found a pencil laying on the desk and tried to stab him in the eye with it. Luckily, he was peeking and stopped me just before I did it. To this day it gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach, thinking about what might have happened.

L0wRyd3r

#20 Bar Fight

My dad used to go to a bar near the house every night about an hour after he put us to bed. It wasn’t until I was around 12-13 that I realized where he was going. I was fine with it. We lived in a good neighborhood, he would lock the doors, and I knew where his .44 was just in case. One night my dad was gone a while and came home completely under the influence and parked sideways in the driveway. He stumbled in, and noisily went to his room (across from mine). I was awake for all of this because I had a lot of stress with puberty so I didn’t sleep too well regularly. Then, I hear my dad take a leak, stumble around, and then leave his room.

I then hear my sister’s (she was 13-14 at the time) door open. I thought it was her seeing what all the noise was. But sadly no. It was my dad. He went into my sister’s room at 2 AM. This was the first and only time this happened and my father has never been violent towards us in any way, but the moment I heard my sister wake up and ask him what he was doing, I was up, put my pants on, and was standing in the doorway. I became so filled with rage that someone who I was supposed to love and look up to could ever do something like this, that I (and I was pretty well sized for my age) pushed my dad up against the wall and started shouting at him. He threw me aside. Then I picked up a lamp from my sister’s nightstand and beat my dad’s head, face, and stomach with it. He has a pretty big scar on the top of his head (a semi-circle about as big around as a pop can) and to this day thinks he got in a bar fight and got kicked out of his favorite pub.

User Deleted

#19 Past Darkest Secrets

When I was young, my parents divorced and I was put into foster care, spanning either a year or a few months. I was about 8, this older kid named Richie was 14-ish and a perfect example of a really bad sadist. I went through lots of bad stuff, got handcuffed by him and held hostage until I yelled out for my foster mom, beaten, my head stood on once, abused, forced to commit violent acts on the other younger foster kids in the home, subtle and manipulative death threats, and so on and so forth.

Anyway, given that I’d say I could be doing a lot worse. But I worry sometimes. I’ve had multiple bad dreams stemming from it. In the dreams, I’m always witnessing the act. In one of them, someone was trying to do this to my current girlfriend and I had to make it stop. I occasionally wake up and I’m like… full of energy. My girlfriend will tell me about events that I don’t remember, and how she tries to get me back to sleep.

wed_better

#18 For Their Sake

I love my husband but he doesn’t love me. After 5 years of problems, it finally clicked. He loves having a wife, he loves not being alone, he loves our kids. I, however, am incidental. I can’t afford to leave him and I don’t really want to because of the kids. We don’t hate each other by any means but I basically have a roommate that I raise kids with.

But to our friends and family, we are the perfect, super-duper happy nerd family.

Micaroni

#17 Wrong Love

I stole my step-father’s 9mm weapon, made sure it was loaded, put it in my mouth, and pulled the trigger. I had no idea that he had taken out the firing pin, in case one of us kids got a hold of it.

My reason for doing it was his constant assault from the time I was 14 to the time I was 17. I tried telling my mother, but she didn’t believe me. She said I needed to be institutionalized for saying such a horrible thing about such a good dad. So, I thought that she didn’t love me, he loved me in the wrong ways, and everyone at school hated me, so why the heck was I taking up air.

I’m better now, but some mornings, I still hear him creeping up the stairs. I live in a completely different town, with a loving boyfriend, but it’s so darn difficult to just let go.

nakoi

#16 Wish I Could Remember

When I was 11 years old, in 2006, my little baby sister drowned in my backyard swimming pool and died while I was at my father’s house for the weekend. I was very close to my sister. I loved her with all of my heart. My mother often talks about how she misses my sister, and I agree with her. There is only one problem. I have almost no memory of my sister. My mom does not know this, and I do not know why I have such a hard time trying to remember. I obviously remember what she looks like, but I cannot remember how she acted or how I acted towards her. I can only remember a few moments of when we were together.

One of the moments was when I swimming in the pool, trying to do backflips… I was yelling out to my mom “mom, watch me!” My mom was holding my baby sister and talking to her, so she didn’t hear me. I, being selfish and rude, yelled at the top of my lungs “STOP BABYING HER” and stormed up the deck, and into the house. I have no idea why I can remember this moment, but not any good moments.

There is this moment that I dream of all the time… As I was getting in the car (on the day she died) to go to my dad’s house on the weekend, she jumped into the car and gave me a tight hug goodbye. I do not know If this moment happened or not, but it just feels so real when I think about it. I hope it happened.

TannerLoL

#15 Need For Impact

I don’t think I’ve ever said this out loud before because it’s so darn weird and people might think I’m more screwed up than I really am, but I’ve always wanted to get into a car accident — like the type that gets you hospitalized and severely hurt. Whenever I drive, I just have this urge to drive straight into traffic or swerve into the opposite lane. People think I hate driving because I suck at it, but it’s really because I have this huge urge every time I’m alone in the car. It’s nagging. I’m in college now and I take the shuttle to school, so I haven’t been driving for a month or so, but whenever I’m in a car I still have that craving.

stopthebeep

#14 A Lie Gone Too Far

I lied. I had to. I was 12 years old and I didn’t know what to do. So I lied. There was no other way for me to do it.

When I was 11 my mother put me into a mental institution. I was angry. Extremely angry. I was the a-typical angry child that was always in trouble with the police and literally was always in trouble at school. By the time I was 11 I had 3 misdemeanors and 2 Felonies. My Felonies were Arson and Assault. I burned down a field hoping that would burn down an apartment building, and I attacked my teacher with a screwdriver, severely hurting her in the process. Looking back, all the trouble I caused my mother, all the attempts to end my own life, I don’t know how she didn’t just do away with me. I tried to harm myself with a coat hanger, take too many pills, damage my wrists. I was angry and honestly, there wasn’t anything that caused it. No abuse, no neglect, nothing. I grew up in a poor, single-parent household. My older brother and I were latchkey kids. We came home from school and then we were alone for about 4 hours until my mom came home.

When I was institutionalized I just… broke. I became a monster. I had nothing to answer for so I unleashed my rage on anyone and everyone. My first year I spent a large majority of my time locked in the Quiet Room. Quiet Rooms were Rectangular rooms with Rubber walls and floors. Basically, you could beat your head off the wall/floor and not really hurt yourself. I think the longest stint I did lock into a QR was around 4 days straight. But I was in the QR at least half the week because of how angry I was. I stabbed employees with pencils/pens. Attacked them randomly. My mood would shift instantly from gentle to raging. They would close down the floor and it would take almost all the staff to hold me down and move me to a QR.

When I was almost 13 they built a new building to house us all. I was the second person to be moved there. I would spend the next 3 years there. I forgot to mention that my days that weren’t filled with QR time, were filled with therapy. Individual therapy, then group therapy, then Lunch, then Individual, then group, etc. Throughout this time the Therapists and Psychologists had tried to delve into me and find the cause of this anger. Was I inappropriately abused? Beaten? Neglected? I denied all and tried to honestly tell them that I was just… angry.

At one point, 2 years into it I had basically been talked into a corner. Every day I was asked why I was lying, who abused me, where did they touch you. Two years of this and every day I told them the same thing. I started shutting down. I was currently on a “Room Program.” I was confined to a room 24 hours a day. This room had no windows, only one door. I had started with a dresser and a bed, with a metal and wood bed frame, but because I had thrown the dresser drawers at employees, and banged on the bed frame loudly it was all taken away from me. I spent my day in an empty room, literally nothing, just four walls and a floor and me. They had stopped all my therapies, only allowing me to go to one individual a day. I took my meals in my room and was allowed a 15-minute shower once a day. After six months of not seeing the sun, not being allowed to talk to anyone, and just generally being crushed, I broke.

In therapy one day I told my psychologist that I had abused my brother and that I had done that because I had been abused myself. When asked who abused me I told her that I used to sneak out of the house late at night, meet a group of people at the grocery store two blocks down, and go with them to parties where people abused substances, and I had happened to have been abused a couple times. Thinking back I have no idea why I said it, but at the time it made sense. What happened next was, I think, worse than the previous two years. My mother and brother were brought in to counseling and I had to reveal, in front of my mother, what I said to the psychologist. My brother, who has cerebral palsy and is slightly mentally handicapped couldn’t argue against it because he has no long-term memory.

What followed was, possibly the worse two years of my life. My story grew, as it had to. Daily therapies and constant questions pushed me to the point that I confessed to having Multiple Personalities. I had MPD for almost 2 years, and I remember one magical evening where we had a four-hour long therapy session and two of the personalities left us. My mother, and my brother, who I loved, didn’t speak to me or see me for 2 years. No cards, no calls, nothing. I was alone.

I lied because I had to. The pressure got to me and I did it. No one knows. My entire family thinks that I abused my brother. When I finally got out for the next 10 years every time I was around my nieces or nephews… the looks I got.

throwaway111999x

#13 Staying Hushed

When I was 18, I got suckered into being a legal adult for a Habitat for Humanity-style summer camp. About ten hours of construction labor on a good day, and many were much longer. After a particularly long day and a death at a sister camp, the power went out at the church we stayed at. I got cornered in a stairwell by a guy that was much bigger than me, and he used his force on me. He had clearly done this before.

What makes this so difficult was that he was slightly younger, only 17 at the time and as a legal adult, it was very clear that his kind of contact with campers was forbidden. It had been explained early on that even the rumor of that kind of action could be grounds for dismissal from camp, complete dismissal from the church, or even legal action due to an “elevated position of power”.

As it stands, I’m afraid to mention this to the church for fear that they’ll try to have me arrested.

DarkKittyWarmKitty

#12 Work of Art

I like to peel the dead skin off the bottom of my feet (not to cause pain). I started keeping the bigger pieces in a small jar. When the jar filled up, I didn’t want to throw it out so I donated it. My skin is now in a glass jar on display at the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia. I sent a second jar over there too, as well as my favorite big pieces. As long as I keep filling them up, they’ll keep taking them. The jar is about one-quarter full right now.

peelingfan

#11 Fatal Accident

It was two days after my sixteenth birthday and I had a haircut appointment about half an hour away. My mom picked me up after school and I wanted to drive. I fell asleep at the wheel and went off the road and hit a redwood. My mom didn’t make it, my little brother had to get his spine fused and lost about a third of his small intestine. I told everyone I don’t know what happened and the doctors said short-term memory loss is usual in these kinds of accidents but I remember what happened. I’ve just never been able to admit that it was all my fault.

radj06

#10 The Mystery Celebrity Dad

I have had a long-term affair with a famous actor for the past 7 years. I have his child (now 5 years old) and he pays me a lot of money for it to remain a secret. He bought me a house and gives me money monthly. Yes, we still hook up occasionally.

He is married with children. I have never told a soul. I told my friends and family that I don’t know who the father is. I will perhaps tell my son one day. It’s hard living a lie.

throwitallawayxx

#9 Bad Wish

Last year, my 3-year-old cousin died after a long battle with brain cancer. About 5 months prior, he was doing terrific. He was beginning to make a great recovery after a surgery that supposedly got rid of the tumor causing cancer. He did a lot of moving around and stayed in St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. Like I said, he was doing great and all he wanted to do was play. And myself, being a sulky little teenager, wanted nothing of it.

One day, he had an upcoming MRI to see if he needed more treatment. I remember being at school and thinking, “maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they found something. He’d have to back to Memphis and I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.” It turned out, they did find something, but the something they found was too much to treat. He basically wasn’t going to make it past 2012.

I was devastated and realized what I had thought earlier in the day. I know I wasn’t the reason that his cancer came back. But it still makes me want to throw up whenever I think about it. It’s been almost 9 months, and I still haven’t told anyone. I want to, but I don’t know if I would be able to contain myself if I did.

I know it’s not my fault, but in the back of my mind, I always seem to think it is.

imsosorrybubba

#7 I Was Just Too Desperate

I’m a university student who got into a bit of a money crisis this summer, sold my inner-wear on Craigslist to make a bit of quick cash. I wasn’t careful and ended up getting badly assaulted.

The whole thing was pretty out of character for me, I’d never considered anything like this before and I’d consider myself fairly innocent for a 20-year-old woman, in that I’ve only been with 2 guys, and both within relationships. So the whole thing started as innocently as something this seedy could… but after messaging a lot of guys, I found out I could make a lot more money by arranging to meet up with guys. This felt really shameful to do, but I was desperate at the time, I needed the money. So I went ahead and met with about a dozen guys, mostly older/middle aged guys and the whole thing was so uncomfortable, but I told myself just think of the money, it’ll all be fine and over in a matter of minutes.

Then I had this one message from a guy who told me he would pay me £100 if I would come meet him at midnight as he was working late. I’d only ever arranged daytime meetings before as I wanted to look out for myself as much as possible, given how dodgy the situation was. But this offer seemed too good to be true, and the meeting place was near a bar about 5 minutes from where I lived, there would be other people around so I should be fine.

Looking back, I don’t know how I ever thought this was a good idea, but at the time I so desperately needed the cash, I somehow justified it in my head. So off I went, thinking this would just be a quick exchange, some guy would get what he wants and I would go home with the £100 I needed. I’d exchanged pictures with the guy before meeting so knew who to look out for, and sure enough, I saw him in a car outside the bar, went to meet him and he told me to get in and we’d drive to somewhere private. He seemed so friendly and perfectly fine, of course in my head I was still feeling wary, but I just thought as before, think of the money, it’ll be fine!

Fast forward a few minutes, we’ve driven off into a really secluded council estate, not the nicest of areas, and parked down an alleyway. Then he locks the doors, and has his way. And the whole time this guy keeps telling me ‘Think about the money’ and ‘I’ll give you double if you just play along.’ It must have been the pure fear and shock that made me keep quiet and not struggle, and funny enough, some part of me was still just thinking about how much I needed the cash. I think that’s the only way I could rationalize what was happening to me, almost like a coping mechanism I suppose.

So I kept quiet, played along, even though it was the most vulgar experience of my life and every fiber of my being just wanted to scream and kick out. And in the end, he still had the nerve to act like he was going to pay me, but had just realized he was out of cash. He asked me to get out of his car as he didn’t want me inside while he drove to an ATM around the corner. I suddenly got a bit of my nerve back and started shouting at him like did he expect me to believe he would come back?

I knew as soon as we got down that alleyway that I’d been hoodwinked and wasn’t getting anything out of this. I just got out of the car though, for fear that he would get violent. I stood there in complete shock as he drove off. Then I sort of came to my senses and started completely bawling my eyes out, walking back towards the bar to find my way home. I guess nobody hanging around the bar really noticed my crying as anything abnormal, they would just think I’m some silly under the influence student. I got home, showered, cried myself to sleep.

misfitmonroe

#6 Out Of The Loop

I was talking to this one girl a few years back. She lived in Florida, I’m in the Athens area of Georgia. We met a single time and it was wonderful. We really loved each other. Only thing is she was extraordinarily clingy.

She had been assaulted by her best friend in high school and he ended his life after that happened. When we met she was a little bit shaken after that happened, so of course, I helped her through that. She also lost her mother a week before her birthday (9/11). So this is a lot to take in for someone who had just graduated high school.

Anyway. So she had to take care of her little sister who at the time would have been a sophomore, and her little brother (age 11) as well. So it worked out well for a while. One of her friends from work had been late on his rent for whatever reason and went through the trouble of asking me if it was okay to board with her and the brats for a while, so of course she didn’t mind and I told him that if he even thought about touching her that I would eviscerate him and his soul. Well, he moved in. They were supposed to drop by during the summer right before our 1st year of being together. They went up to Michigan for some reason (I can’t recall), and well, her little sister was pregnant. She told me it was from her boyfriend back in Florida. She was told that she had a miscarriage so they immediately headed all the way back to Florida and skipped me completely.

Turns out the baby was actually OK so I got turned down for no reason. We eventually got to see that the baby was actually the work friend’s kid. He assaulted the little sister and knocked her up. After all this wrongdoing he also managed to violate my girlfriend and shoot her best friend in the leg and proceeded to end his own life, leaving my girlfriend and her sister mentally scarred and leaving his soon to be son without a father.

DragonLaggin

#5 Mommy, I lied

I was 8. I have a little brother with severe autism. He is two years younger than me. One day, my mom called me upstairs and told me to bring my little brother downstairs because Sesame Street was just about to start. He does not talk but can walk, though very slowly. We got to the top of the stairs and started walking down. I got frustrated that he was walking so slowly and poked him so he would hurry up. Then, a step later he stepped on my toes.

Furious, I poked him again, telling him ‘No!’. I scared him, and he moved his arm suddenly and accidentally hit me with his elbow. I shoved him in response. Unfortunately, he had/has very bad balance so he went tumbling down the stairs, crashing headfirst into the wall. He didn’t move. Terrified, I screamed for my mom and made up a story really fast about how he tripped and I couldn’t catch him in time.

An ambulance was called and he was rushed to the hospital. He had internal bleeding and almost died. He had permanent brain damage on top of his autism. His memory is even worse than before and he will now probably never learn to talk.

The worst part is, to this day my parents thank me for being such a good big sister. Even when I bring that up, they praise me telling me I acted quickly and it was obviously not my fault.

But it is my fault. And I will forever feel guilty.

Throwawaygetouttamyway

#4 I Wish I Didn’t

When I was about 14, I fell for the most popular girl in our class. She was amazing, fun, intelligent, and pretty. I was way too shy to ask her out or anything, but was happy that I was part of her friend group. She was happy to be friends with anyone who was nice and went on to chill with the cool kids and the shy ones with no care for what people said. The cool kids did sometimes make fun of her for being friends with us as well, but she was way more mature than them (and us probably). She would tell anyone off who was rude or made fun of others because of what group they were part of.

Unfortunately, that year she was diagnosed with leukemia. She had to spend a lot of time getting treatment. Also during that year, our drama teacher decided to get us to put on a play, and then tour it round a few schools in Europe, (he was one of those teachers that always had insane ideas, but could always make it work).

She was well enough to come with us for the 2-week trip. Through talking to her I realized she had a Gameboy so I sold some of my old things and got one too, as a cunning excuse to sit next to her on the coach. Two player Tetris on the original Gameboy was amazing! We spent more than an average amount of time on the trip sitting next to each other and playing games, chatting and listening to my walkman. By the end of the trip I had won her over, I could tell she had fallen for me. We chatted about everything. She used to cuddle me a little while we sat together chatting, but I was still too shy to kiss her even still.

One day I overheard 2 of the cool kids chatting, talking about who they would like to get with. They were saying how the girl I loved used to be hot but not as curvy and another girl was much nicer now.

I cannot remember if it was the same day or later but I vividly remember being up on stage with her before one of the performances. She came up to me really happy and looking forward to the show we were about to do. (I hated doing it because I was SO shy but my teacher knew it would be good to force me out of my shell, so she gave me a small speaking part). She came up to me and put her arms around me.

This was the first time she had done that in a more public place than our couch, and I froze in panic. All I wanted to do was hold her but I was too shy and terrified people would make fun of me for being with her so I pushed her away. I can still see how hurt she was; she could see I was frightened of holding her in public. She walked away and did not say anything much to me for the last few performances.

When we got back to school, she did not come back that term as she was going to go abroad for more treatment. She did come back for one day over lunch break and hung out with us all again, just before she had left. She was really nice to me but not as close as she had been before. After lunch break our teacher came over to us and said “did you get to chat with [amazing girl]” we said yes. He said, “that’s really good…” “ I don’t think she wanted to say it to you all but she is probably not going to come back, her treatment is not working.”

I had never had anyone I know die. She was the first and I loved her and I think she had loved me but I was too shy and too ashamed to even try. I have never told anyone (this must be 20 years ago now).

She died shortly before the start of the autumn term, I did not get to go to her funeral as no one knew how close we had been, and I was still too shy to tell them.

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#3 It Wasn’t Me

I met this guy at a party on New Years, and I thought he was really attractive. Well lucky me, I got a midnight kiss from him, and then I went home since I was only 15. A few days later I got a friend request from him and I was overjoyed. He asked if I wanted to go party with him and of course, I said yes. So for a few months, we party almost every weekend. I turned 16, he turned 19, everything was great.

Then one night after we went out, he asked if I wanted to stay the night with him and a friend. I did and that night I wasn’t me. Normally I have morals; I’m a nice girl. But with the combination of adult beverages and a guy I wanted to be with, I was willing to do anything. He asked me if we could all go to bed and I was really hesitant. They just kept asking and asking so I said fine. He started, and the friend watched and it wasn’t so bad. Once his friend was done with me, the guy I liked decided he didn’t want seconds and that was it. I asked him if I could leave so he just said yeah. I walked myself to the car and went home.

After that, the only times I really talked to him was when I bought adult substances. One night I went to a party and I saw him there. We only said hi and he asked for my pipe so I let him use it. I got under the influence and forgot it so I did my own thing and left. The next day I asked if I could go by and pick it up and he said yeah. I went to his house and we started talking. I ended up telling him how much I liked him, and I was just telling him everything about myself. We got intimate, and afterward, he told me that he didn’t want a relationship but we could be meeting up every now and then “for fun.” Nope. I just said bye and left. I didn’t talk to him until a month later when I told him I was pregnant. He denied it was his, but we had a paternity test after he was born and he is.

He’s never seen him, even when we did the paternity test. They were in the same room and he didn’t attempt to even look in the car seat. I know he didn’t tell his family, and I’m sure he still denies it if anyone asks. We don’t talk, he blocked me on Facebook and changed his number. My son is turning 1 soon, and he never met his dad; probably never will. I feel sad for my son, but seeing how he reacted – I’m glad that kind of guy isn’t in my son’s life. The funniest part? When I was around 20 weeks pregnant, he asked me if I could keep quiet about it because he didn’t want his girlfriend of 2 years finding out. As far as I know, they’re still together and she has no idea.

singlemomforlyfe

#2 Never Again

One lovely evening, I really wanted to feel good but I’m completely out of money, so I go to Craigslist. I go to the personal ads. And I put something up in the M4M (male for male) section. The message is extremely simple. “Straight male. Willing to be submissive in exchange for a little extra. Adult substance-friendly. Hint hint.”

In 30 minutes I get an email from this guy. We start talking, he asks for specifics on the “little extra” bit, so I clarified and he was into it. So I went to his house. When I got there, the guy was probably 6’4″, 6’5″ and close to 300 lbs. I walk in the door. We talk, he shows me the substances, and I say okay. Let’s do this.

We get ready. This guy was really huge in every aspect. I tell him I’ve never done this before and he says that’s fine. I start off on him, getting him excited. After a good half hour of that, we got down to real business for a solid 45 minutes. He eventually gets done, sternly tells me to get up, gives me the substances, and sends me on my way…

I get home and take all of it. I slowly and painfully climb onto my bed… And I cry. I curl up in the fetal position and I cry like something straight out of a movie. That’s when I decided I had to get clean. And I did. That was 1 year ago.

I haven’t abused any substances since then and I stopped taking adult beverages a few months after that. I’m completely sober now and much much happier and transferring to an incredible university in the fall.

TheCrispyNinka

#1 Thank God

When I was sixteen, I tried to end my life. I was young, dumb, and sad because my mom was yelling at me (I had a very domineering, abusive mother). I decided I would go get dad’s weapon and end myself. I rooted around in my parents closet until I found the weapon, then I loaded it with the only ammo I could find. I went and made myself a nice meal of bacon and eggs, then went to the bathroom (when my grandfather died, he had soiled himself, I didn’t want that to happen to me). I stripped down to my underwear, and loaded one of the fat green slugs in the tube; I could feel the little bumps and ridges on the plastic coating of the shell.

I settled down, snuggled the barrel under my chin, and pulled the trigger. That click was the loudest noise I will ever hear. Unbeknownst to me, I had made the (not-so-mortal) error of using twenty-year-old shells that had been sitting next to a shower for fifteen or so years. I decided that God probably didn’t want me dead quite yet, and went on to live a (moderately) successful life with a loving wife, three kids of my own, and four grandchildren (two more on the way). Truth be told, I’m sort of happy that I couldn’t even end it.

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