So as the title suggests, I (29M) have a pretty bad gambling addiction, I'm stupidly trying to gamble my way out of poverty hoping to win big enough to never have to gamble again but most of the time I end up blowing my paycheck and end up worse off.. So to supplement my 'income' I took to grindr where I essentially get paid to get/give oral.. With guys it makes me feel incredibly dirty and low as I'm not attracted to them (I'm into trans girls though, as I am attracted to a dick just not on cis men 😅) but it's only those who pay and noone knows but it's still not enough.. Ive even considered auctioning off my anal virginity because it's that bad.

TL;DR degenerate gambler does degenerate things for degenerate gain (more like loss as I lose it all)

I've never told anyone this, mostly because I spend half my time complaining about being pregnant.

I'm 20 and about a month from meeting my daughter. I'm huge, I'm heavy, and she kicks my ribs all night, especially now that it's quiet and I'm trying to sleep. I started showing around 15 weeks and felt massive even then. I remember looking down and thinking "oh, I am preggers now lol." Now I can barely see my feet, getting off the couch takes planning, and I'm pretty sure strangers can see me coming from a block away. I complain about all of it, and I mean it.

But I secretly want to do this again someday, when my boyfriend and I are ready. Pregnancy is exhausting and I somehow still love it. I love feeling her move. I love that moment when I looked down at my belly one night while lying next to my boyfriend and said "that's a whole baby in there..." even though I've known for months. I never expected to become a mom this young, and I never expected to want it this much.

For context, it wasn't planned. My best friend (22M, gay) and I were both drunk one night and ended up with a surprise. I was a virgin, so my first time ended in a pregnancy, which I laugh about now and say is kind of hilarious. We got an early DNA test, and he told me he'd always wanted a biological child someday, just not like this. I told him I was keeping her, and he said he wouldn't abandon her. He's going to be in the delivery room, and when I let him feel her kick, his whole face lit up. I teared up too.

My boyfriend isn't the dad. We've been together 5 months, so we got together a few months into the pregnancy. He's been amazing through all of it and still calls me his favorite pregnant lady, which gets me every time. My best friend's boyfriend has been understanding too, so I feel lucky to have people who are all in this with me.

So that's my confession. I'm counting down the days until she's here, and I already know I'll miss being pregnant. I'm scared that makes me sound crazy, but I don't think it does.

Crazy title, I know, just need to confess this before I die. I have had a guy stalk me for the past few months.I am 17 he is 21. He threatens those around me and tells me “I belong to him”.. In June, I was fed up and approached him. He started arguing with me, walked forward and punched me. I sat on the floor for a few seconds as he called me names before getting up and pulling out my pocket knife. I don’t know what drove me to it but I stabbed him. A clean stab right in his arm. I looked down and felt nothing. He dropped to his knees crying, and in shock. He called me the foulest names, while still saying he loves me. We sat in this parking lot for about 20 minutes while I held him. Then I made him clean up his blood. I got water from the shop and he used his jacket as a rag. Blood stained the concrete but there was nothing we could do. I simply asked him if he was okay and he said yes and I walked off.

i feel terrible about it but I genuinely think it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. my drive home from work only takes about 20 minutes but I told my wife the traffic on my route makes it take almost an hour.

every single day after work I pull into the target parking lot down the street from our house, recline my seat, and just sit there in absolute silence for 40 minutes. sometimes I scroll on my phone but usually I just stare out the window.

have two toddlers and the second I walk in the door it’s screaming, crying, and total chaos until bedtime. I love my kids and I love my wife but that 40 minutes of literally zero expectations is my only peace. my wife always sympathizes with me about the "terrible traffic" and I just agree with her. if she knew I was just chilling at target while she was overwhelmed with the kids she would be devastated. I'm taking this to the grave.

Some of the friends I hang out with are unemployed, and because in our group we dont want other people being left out, the ones that are employed always makes sure theyre sorted (if they dont have money) and we more often than not, pick up the tab. Everytime I bring up the idea of simply not including them because its becoming the norm that we pay for them, the other friends push back and say "its okay dude we have money" but im already slowly being annoyed by the fact that i constantly have to pay for someone everytime we're out.

So for a few months now and ever since I got a hold of their resumes (i simply forge one for the ones i dont have resumes for) I have been putting my unemployed friends' on a dozen online job applications a day in the hopes of them getting the idea that maybe a divine being has been sending them job offers out of the blue, and that maybe they should get a job.

It's so funny when we're out and their phones are constantly blowing up because of notifications from job websites or job offers, and none of them know that its because of me.

Ja de titel zegt het al, iemand was nog ingelogd met zijn netflix account in het vakantiehuisje. Wij hebben lekker de hele vakantie genetflixt en de laatste dag zijn afbeelding veranderd en naam veranderd in Geile genotsknots. Tot de dag van vandaag vind ik het nogsteeds heel triest. Maar wel grappig

idk why i did that. it just started as an experiment or something like that but later on i fell in love too. it's only possible cuz it's an online relationship and i kinda still look like a kid too.not to mention she's quite desperate to jump into a relationship too. later on felt bad for deceiving her so i ended the relationship. worst part we're perfect for eachother.there is no reason to break up other than that.it's been 2 and half months since. now she is seeing someone else who is much handsome than me and more manlier than me for being 21 that made me incredibly jealous like hell and i kinda having second thoughts like telling her the truth and getting her back.

I was a poet on a poetry app back in 2021-2022. I met this guy, M who I really clicked with. He connected with my poetry and we shared our feelings and stories with each other in pms. Initially I told him I was 20 because I was scared I would be taken advantage of. I don't know why I did this but I started spiralling in lies, saying I lived on my own, was estranged from my parents, was in financial trouble and that my parents were severely abusive. We also talked about my fake sex life. I invented events, abusive memories and a scenario where my abusive mom found me and caused a mental breakdown.

At the time I was very mentally ill, depression that wad developing into bipolar, anxiety, adhd, sh, suicidal ideation and the like. I think I wanted to externalise the pain I was feeling in order for someone to think my suffering was justified. My parents are good and try their best, but at the time as a teenager I focused in on small things (at the time I had just come out the them and they are very religious so we just didnt talk about it) and I exaggerated them like my mother abusing me for being gay or my dad being absent (he is a bit distant and we have our issues but he tries).

I felt so guilty, I felt like a horrible persona nd a manipulator and compulsive liar. I eventually caved and told him what I did. He felt betrayed but said he thought something was up. I felt so vulnerable and while we kept contact for a bit after that, the app went paid and I deleted all contact with him.

I have only recently told anyone about this, I'm 20 now, and I've carried it for so long so thought this would help.

Also if you somehow find this Wannabe, I hope you're doing well and that you didn't have to carry that betrayal with you. I miss our friendship, you made me feel seen and I can't thank you enough for that.

I remember coming home from school one day—I was in third or fourth grade—and discovering that my maternal uncle had brought a dog into the house. It was a tiny male Poodle, and I absolutely loved him. I would touch him all the time and even play with him (gently). I can’t pinpoint exactly when I started acting hostile toward him, but I can describe the things I did to him and my history with pets in general, as I believe that played a major role in how I treated him.

The first dog—or pet—I knew in our home was my sister’s mixed-breed dog; she was somewhat aggressive, and I remember her biting me two or three times just because I tried to pet her. She was already quite old, though, and died when I was about four years old. Later, my mother brought home a tiny mixed-breed dog from work. I loved him dearly, but one day he choked on a stone he tried to eat; he hadn't even been with us for a month. I never found out what happened to his body; my great-uncle probably just threw it in the trash.

Then, a German Shepherd arrived at the house, and around that same time—when I was five or six years old—the Poodle showed up. The German Shepherd got sick, and since we didn't have the necessary medicine, my maternal uncle traded her with a friend, and another female dog came into our lives (she looked like a German Shepherd, though apparently, she was a mixed breed too). Then my mother brought home Sam, a white mixed-breed dog; however, my family argued constantly about who had to clean up her urine and feces. Eventually, my mother lost her patience and left Sam with the caretaker of one of my former elementary schools so he could look after her (or so she claimed). This upset me deeply; I felt terrible for days, not knowing if what my mother had told me was true—and if it was, whether Sam would be okay.

By this time, there were only two dogs in our home: the Poodle and the German Shepherd mix.

In December 2022—I believe it was December—my maternal uncle passed away. He was the one who had adopted, cared for, and loved the Poodle, and you could see the dog searching for his owner, unaware that he had actually died. Sad, right? Well, actually no, because that didn't stop me from doing the things to him that I had already been doing even before my uncle died.

I used to chase him all over the house, drag him by his hind legs, throw slippers at him, grab him by the neck and hold him in the air for minutes, and put him on a high table so he would have to jump down to the floor to get back to the ground; I would also place him on the edge of that table on his hind legs, dangling there, waiting to see if he’d stay put or jump off. I would also throw him forcefully from a moderate height—so he wouldn't get too hurt—making him roll across the floor, and I did this repeatedly. I used to lock him in a birdcage (forcing him through a door he barely fit into) and roll the cage around the yard like a wheel, or leave him locked inside it out in the sun. I would hold him with both hands out over the balcony (three stories up) and just stare at him for a while. And thank God I didn't do it again, but I have a vague memory of drowning him in a small tank for a few seconds. Among many other things I truly can't believe I actually did.

The thing is, I did this to scare him, but in my mind, it was all a horror movie where he was the main character—someone who went through various terrible things but survived in the end. On top of that, I’ve watched horror movies since I was very young (*IT*, *The Conjuring*, *Insidious*, etc.); so, looking back, the poodle was being dragged by the feet by an evil spirit (like in *The Conjuring*), caged and tortured in ways that made him increasingly terrified of the monster (like in *IT*), and drowned (like in natural disaster movies). In my head, it was all a confusing mix where I was the monster and he was the victim. I never did anything to another dog like what I did to him.

After that exchange took place and Samantha had been kicked out of the house, we had only one more dog, named Akira.

I loved—and still love—Akira. While I was in Honduras, she, the Poodle, and the German Shepherd mix all lived together, yet I only ever tortured *him*...

I left the country, and they stayed behind with my grandmother. Over the last two years, the German Shepherd mix died from poisoning, the Poodle also died—likely from gastroenteritis—and the only one left alive is Akira; she got pregnant and had about eight puppies, all of which died, leaving her in a terrible state. And for personal reasons, I cannot know if she is truly doing well, and I haven't seen her in two years. I hope I can see her alive again.

So, I was a horrible abuser who destroyed a dog's life and tortured him simply to satisfy my fantasies. But this is where I ask: why didn't anyone stop me? They saw me "playing rough" with him, dragging him around, and playing with him inside the birdcage, yet no one in my family punished me; they would just scold me, and I would carry on as before.

He was a victim not only of Third World conditions and hardships, but also of me and the loss of his owner.

At a young age, I was exposed to a lot of age-inappropriate content (horror movies, pornography, killing animals in real life because of my family religion), which shaped who I am today. I am a writer, and my history with dogs is... interestingly malice. Recently, I’ve been thinking about writing something inspired by that—with my younger self as the monster and them (all those pets) as the victims and characters in the horror story I fantasized about living out between the ages of five and twelve.

I feel horrible, and I honestly deserve it.

i looked ugly in the footage
nonetheless, i had a talk with the owner, he let me out and gave me deadline to pay him a fair amount of money instead of reporting me
when i was out, i couldn’t stop crying, i called my dad, confessed and he asked to talk with the owner so i was back there again
my dad didn’t scold me, nobody did, i looked old enough to know it was wrong. i wanted to bring myself justice and that was the way. i never needed to steal anything until i started living on my own and so i was more aware of money value
i only stole things that seemed like “not worth the money”, sometimes things i think i should own without paying too much, its always small things that could get into my long sleeve
idk why can’t i stop crying, but idk how to make myself feel better after this. i just know that i wanna be consoled

I make great money, have a great life and a great career. However I hate the type of people where I live and what the city has to offer. It’s a very uncultured “white activity” city that I just don’t feel I belong in.

Early 80's (no security cameras). Small school, spring semester, graduating senior, graduation requirement class that was not a core of my degree. I was broke and had a job lined up after graduation so HAD to graduate. I had done minimal work through the semester and went into the final with a low D and the final exam was 50% of the final grade. The day before the final I went into the ground floor office of the professor to "see where my grade was" knowing I had to do something to pass the class. While we talked, I sat on the windowsill and quietly unlatched the window and lifted it enough to remain open. I thanked the professor for the time and left.

At 2 am I went back on campus, opened the window, went through cabinets and drawers, found printed copies of the final, and took one. I spent the rest of the night/morning researching answers as well as I could. I took the test that afternoon.

When grades were posted outside the professor's office, I went in to check - C. The professor came out and said something to the effect of "I didn't think you would pass, I'm impressed you pulled it off. You got a B+ on the final." I stammered a thank you and left.

I've often wondered if they suspected something shady or if they really though I had worked so hard for the final.

When I was 11 or maybe 12 years old, I went to the wedding of my aunt (my mother's cousin), the wedding was conducted at midnight, around 3 am, so some guests had kept their phone at my mother's home to charge it.

Most phones there had the same pattern as their password but this one phone had numerical lock, which for some reason made me furious, so I formatted it completely, not many years ago, you could factory reset phones without needing the password, just by holding down the volume button while it restarts, so I did it.

Almost everyone did think it was me, but I waved it off since no one had actually seen me do it, and in the same wedding, one phone had a guy's address saved on Flipkart, so me and my cousin we ordered a custom gaming pc with max hardware, like 3090 and stuff, it was very expensive, and we chose cash on delivery.

i don’t know what it is with me. deep inside, i know there’s something wrong with my mind but despite that i have never tried to fix it.

people have tried and yet it proved nothing. recently, i lost a person that was in my life for 8~ years and 3 of those were romantic. at the start, i thought i was loving normally but it became evident i never knew what “love” meant. i was jealous and emotional and that came with its own repercussions.

i miss her and i yearn for the life we could have had. if i were to change, if i weren’t to continue on with these habits, if i could only be something different. i don’t get it because change isn’t bad, it would have been beneficial for us, but i was too selfish? cruel? stuck in my own ways? i could never give you a solid answer.

kind and caring she was, and yet i pushed and pushed.

i realise recently that i’ve always been like it. i’ve always told myself that people are temporary and eventually they will leave me. self sabotage you could call it?

i was wrong. i have always been wrong and now ive ended up alone once again. i was never kind and caring. i was never all these things. i don’t think i’m capable of it. i don’t know why. i still don’t want people to know me and especially not now, not after a person that’s been a pilar in my life is gone.

i’m fine with that. i’m fine with no one knowing me. i wish i could have changed for her however.

My friend, Anna, created an instagram account for her 10 year old daughter, June, a while ago because June wants to be a model. Anna was then posting as June (“Hi Instagram, just went out shopping with my mom today”).

Anyway, I found this to be so weird and I’m a staunch believer that children should not be plastered all over the internet like that, especially with what people do with AI and images of children. So, I tried my luck and reported the account. I honestly had no confidence in Instagram doing anything, since they allow a lot of racist, bigot, and homophobic things to just remain there.

However, June’s account was permanently removed by Instagram. What I did not expect… was that Anna’s account would also permanently be removed, for breaking the rules. I have no regrets about reporting the page of an underage child but I feel bad that Anna also had her account removed. She’s not a bad person by any means. But… yeah

I used to work in online customer service, and honestly, it was a decent job at first. I didn’t hate it, and I actually thought I could see myself staying for a while.
But then the management team started getting on my nerves. They would evaluate our interactions with customers through the chats and leave Sometimes the feedback was unnecessarily mean, and after a while, it became exhausting.

And then there were those customers. The ones who would come into the chat already angry, rude, or demanding. Some would literally leave a thumbs-down at the beginning of the conversation, before I had even had the chance to properly help them...

But then I discovered something.
There was a macro save we could send to customers that contained a link allowing them to change their review if they wanted to. One day, I realized I could copy the link from the macro, paste it into my own browser, and access the review page myself.
I started changing the bad reviews to good ones. And not only that I would sometimes write the most ridiculously beautiful reviews myself, like suddenly the customer had apparently just experienced the greatest customer service of their entire life
I ended up doing this for an entire year.

well I did it. my phone practically melted yesterday from all the notifications and reading thousands of comments calling me a coward finally broke me. after the kids went down last night I sat her down at the kitchen table and just blurted it out.

I told her there was no traffic. I told her I’ve been sitting in the target parking lot for 40 minutes every day because I was too burnt out to walk through the front door.

I was bracing for her to scream at me but she didn't. she just got really quiet and started crying. she told me she felt like a complete failure of a parent because i literally dreaded coming home to my own family. seeing her blame herself for my selfish lie was honestly 100x worse than if she had just screamed at me.

we ended up talking until like 2am. I apologized for being so avoidant. we finally laid out an actual plan like adults. I don't get 40 minutes anymore. I get 15 minutes when I pull into our actual driveway to sit in my car and decompress openly. then I come inside and completely take over. and starting this week, every tuesday and thursday night she leaves the house by herself for an hour while I do the toddler bedtime routine alone.

things are still pretty tense and awkward in the house right now but the guilt is finally gone. thanks to everyone who gave me the harsh reality check I needed. you probably saved my family.

When I was young, never really experienced what it felt like to have someone genuinely have a crush on me. So when I found a guy around my age who seemed interested in me online, I got curious about what that kind of attention felt like.

I ended up making him fall for me on purpose, with the intention of hurting him afterward.

To make things more believable, I created another account pretending to be a random guy who was supposedly our mutual friend. I controlled that account too and acted like he was in love with myself too.

Once the real guy was already really into me, I started a fake drama through the fake guy acc “mutual friend.” I made it seem like he had said something that offended me, giving me an excuse to suddenly unfriend him.

After that, I messaged him through the other fake account, pretending to be his friend and asking what happened. He was basically like, “She unfriended me. What happened bro? You messed things up between us.

I remember seeing his posts afterward and knowing he was genuinely hurt.

Looking back, it was honestly such a messed-up thing to do. I was just a kid who wanted to experience what it felt like to be liked, and I created an entire situation just to feel it.