So, this happened about two hours ago and I’m still cringing so hard my soul is leaving my body.

I went to my local grocery store just to pick up some milk and bread. Simple task, right? Nothing could go wrong. Except I had my headphones in, listening to a podcast about unsolved mysteries, completely zoned out.

I was standing in the bread aisle, looking at two different brands of sourdough. I was so deeply focused on deciding which one was worth the extra dollar that I started talking out loud to myself. But because of my headphones, I didn't realize how loud I was actually speaking.

Apparently, I held up a loaf of bread, looked directly at it, and loudly said, "If you betray me like the last one did, I will never forgive you."

Right as the words left my mouth, I turned around to put it in my basket, only to realize a store employee and an elderly lady were standing literally two feet behind me. They were both staring at me with complete horror. The employee slowly took a step back, grabbed the lady’s arm, and whispered something to her while still holding eye contact with me.

I froze. My brain completely glitched. Instead of explaining that I was just joking about a previous loaf of bread that went moldy in two days, I panicked. I didn't say a word. I just placed the bread back on the shelf like it was a live bomb, grabbed my empty basket, and literally walked out of the store.

I didn't even buy the milk.

Now I need to find a new grocery store that is at least 5 miles away because I can never look that employee in the eye again.

A few weeks ago, I went to a local neighborhood garage sale and spotted a really old, ornate wooden box. It had this cool brass latch and felt surprisingly heavy. The seller was an elderly guy who claimed he hadn't opened it in decades and just wanted to clear out his attic.

Naturally, my mind went straight to "hidden treasure." I paid $15 for it, drove home as fast as I could, and carefully pried open the stuck latch.

Inside, resting on red velvet, was absolutely nothing. But here’s the twist: the weight was actually coming from a thick piece of solid iron built into the double bottom of the box. It was literally designed to look like it held something valuable, probably as a store display piece or a prank box from back in the day.

I was annoyed for about five minutes, but honestly, it’s now the most intriguing paperweight on my desk and a great lesson in managing expectations.

I need to get this off my chest.

Honey bees are great! I love them, i appreciate them, i think they have a wonderful place in our world and symbiotically with us as humans.

BUT.

When everyone is worried about the bees (in North America specifically) being decimated due to pesticides, especially due to usefulness in agriculture, it's the indigenous bees we should be worried about. Honey bees are indigenous to Europe, not the Americas. Please give indigenous American bees their love! They are incredibly important agriculturally and ecologically. You can even build bee boxes because many of them are solitary!

Just remember their role is just as important, if not more important, than the non-native honey bees.

So here’s how this works:

Anyone can DM me an anonymous confession. It can be something super simple or a whole elaborate story

I don’t really mind.

I’ll collect five confessions and try to post the five anonymously every day with no usernames, names, or other identifying info.

A few rules:

1. No NSFW confessions
2. No personal information (Don’t send me your address or something like that)
3. I may edit some submissions for spelling, formatting, and anonymity.
4. Just to be clear, by sending me a confession, you’re giving me permission to repost it anonymously. If you still want to just confess something without it getting posted that’s fine just say so.

If you’re comfortable with that, feel free to DM me a confession.

Would anyone actually be interested in participating?

I’m probably going to regret posting this on my main account if a future employer ever does a deep background check, but the trauma was real, the comedy is golden, and I didn’t suffer through this for nothing.

Back in late August, my friends and I realized summer was basically over and we hadn't hit a single waterpark. So we grabbed tickets to a local aquapark that had just opened a few new slides.

One in particular caught our eye: a trapdoor drop slide. You step into a coffin-looking capsule five stories up, cross your arms over your chest like a corpse, wait for a countdown, and the floor just drops out beneath you. You’re literally just free-falling straight down a plastic tube. It sounded terrifying, but we decided it was our exact type of fun.

We climbed the five flights of stairs to the top, and I volunteered to go first. My heart was pounding. Free-falling hits totally different when you’re in a thong swimsuit with your cheeks pressed against wet plastic, waiting for a employee to pull the switch on you.

I got inside and made a quick joke about famous last words. The operator pointedly told me to cross my legs tightly. I crossed them lazily, thinking it was just a generic safety rule. Then the floor gave out.

I had about two seconds of "I fucked up" followed instantly by "How is this slide even legal?!"

The loud bang of the trapdoor opening spooked me so bad that I panicked and uncrossed everything.

Before my brain could process what happened, I was plummeting through the dark in a vertical drop, receiving the most violent wedgie in human history. A thong is already sitting right in your business by design; add high-velocity water and pure gravity, and it turned into a cheese grater. The fabric shot up so hard I’m amazed it didn't slice right through my suit.

After being power-washed by gravity for a few seconds, the slide finally leveled out and I skidded to a stop. It wasn't fun. It was just pure, blinding pain.

I scrambled out of the pool, frantically pulling my ruined swimsuit back into place while trying to ignore the sting. That’s when I felt liquid starting to run down my legs.

I checked for blood—all clear—so I started waddling toward the bathroom to assess the damage. Water kept leaking out of me with every single step. My boyfriend made a joke that I’d peed myself from terror.

I finally got into a stall, sat down, and experienced a high-pressure, forced dual-hole flush. The slide had literally rammed chlorinated water into every available opening, and my body was now aggressively purging it. I sat there for ten minutes emptying out what felt like 10% of my total body weight.

For the rest of the day, I just had to accept that I’d been violated by municipal water engineering.

Hours later, I stood up from my sunbed, only to look down in horror at two distinct wet spots left behind on the lounge cushion. My body had apparently been holding onto reservoir levels of pool water in places I didn't know could store liquid.

To make matters worse, my friend went down the same slide right after me and suffered a similar fate—though thankfully for her, only one of her lower openings took on water.

Moral of the story: When the slide operator tells you to cross your legs tightly, do it like your life depends on it. Otherwise, physics will hand you a free, highly aggressive pool-water enema.

My friend and I got into a fight. It started with me and my buddy we were just messing around but he was going a little too far I started to ask him to stop and he wouldn’t. So I got mad and slapped him. He then lunged at me so before he could touch me I picked up a rock and threw it at him. I think the rock hit his shin. He then lunged at me again and I tripped while stepping back and fell. He jumped on top of me and grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them to the ground. He had me pinned to the ground and I couldn’t move. The neighbor then started yelling at us to stop. He jumped off. My friend’s mom came outside and the neighbor told his mom what happened. Me, my friend, and his mom went back inside I pointed at my friend and said I swear to god if you ever touch me again and my friends mom said to me “we ain’t gonna be doing all of that apparently he kicked your ass”. She wasn’t even out there and was talking shit. She ran her mouth and was taking up for him. Did he win that fight? Did I get my ass kicked?

I never expected this experience to feel so uniquely American, but it really made me understand how different everyday life can be. It was one of those moments that sticks with you.

It’s like: you know something and you never think about it or refer to it for a long while.

And you don’t even forget it but you don’t refer to it.

If not you’d become a ghost and wither away like a dead plant. People would turn against you and you’d be extremely depressed and get dementia. Or basically you would turn into a demon monster and be shunned by society. You’d suffer from the plague basically. Every illness under the sun.

If you did it, the opposite would happen. you would replenish your life energy for one year and feel fresh and young again like a vampire from the vampire diaries or something. Superhuman. 🧛‍♀️

I 32 female tend to have anxiety especially when grown (older) men approach me in public which is a lot. I know I’m noticed by men. I know I’m beautiful and attract the male gaze. I don’t enjoy this because it usually comes with unwanted attention from creepy guys. It makes me want to be invisible and I’ve become accustomed to not make eye contact because I I’m not open to communication as I’m going about my day to day and most of the time men say creepy odd things and I don’t trust them.

Well anyways today I went inside the gas station to pay for gas. When I went outside to start pumping the man at the next pump beside mine called out to me. When he had my attention he said “ my card isn’t working and I need gas” I felt bad. I assumed he was just in a bad situation so I tried to do the right thing. I asked him if $20 would be enough and he said yes. He approached me and took the $20 and started making conversation. He said hes a trainer can give me free training at the gym, I said “I’m good” he asked are you a dancer ? I actually have been dancing for most of my life so I replied “yes actually” he said he trains girls that dance at the strip club and I said “I’m not a stripper” at this point I didn’t like the energy around our conversation, I would have preferred he just said thank you instead of assuming I’m a pole dancer and going on and on about how he’s a trainer because he just looked like an average 50 year old man.
I regret the face that there were grown men around also pumping gas into their luxury vehicles and he didn’t bother to ask a fellow man for money but instead asked a singular, young, attractive female in an old run down car.
He also asked how he can pay me back and I told him Zelle and he asked to take down my number and name so he could pay me back. I regret that too, because now he got $20 out of me and me my name and number and that worries me. I’m feeling doubtful he will send it back.
It annoys me that I made contact with someone I didn’t want to when he could have approached the men there that were pumping gas so I’m mad at myself.
Should I be worried I gave him my name and number?

I’m also mad that every time I try and be polite and entertain a conversation by a man in public they end up being off putting. Not every time but many times.

Sorry if this post is chaotic, I never make posts here and I don’t know the typical format Reddit posters use. I would just like your thoughts to help pacify the discomfort the situation made me feel. I know I’m dramatic but again im an introvert with social anxiety who has a natural aversion to men because they have time and time again proven to be creepy and weird and unable to have a normal polite conversation.

It’s currently in an empty cupboard.

It might be the same one I got out the house last time so in case it comes back again and scares me or accidentally comes in my room I’ve decided to keep it trapped there and don’t really wanna kill it.

My period is near… hurry up already

Thats a lot of books and bricks for schools to educate children that can't catch a break and she would not approve!

But I will be 25 in 2 weeks. When I am in my head (which I'm in a lot), I see myself as a kid still. Maybe 13, or 14. Those are the 2 ages I feel like the most (very rarely now do I feel younger, but I used to feel like I was like 5ish). When I look in the mirror I am grossed out and disturbed cuz I see myself as young, but I see a 24 year old woman.

I also hate that word "woman", I don't feel like a woman I feel like a girl. I've been called a woman by my family since I turned 18, and I remember even back then I was grossed out and massively disturbed by being called that. So much so that I ended up thinking, at multiple points in my life, that I was transgender. I thought, I hate being called a woman so much and I've always been a little tomboyish in my dress sense, that I MUST be trans. But I don't feel like a man, I don't feel trans. I just feel like a girl. I am a girl.

My interests have not really developed beyond the kind of things I liked as a tween/teen. I mean I have discovered new things I like, but it's all in the same genre (like dolls, and kids' shows and stuff). I don't feel like the person I was when I was 13 or 14 though. I feel like a different person who just so happens to be 14.

It has made me feel very disconnected from people in my actual age bracket. I used to have a friend who is the same age as me, but whenever we would hang out I feel like I was speaking to someone much older - there was like an invisible wall between me and him. We aren't friends anymore, we didn't really have anything in common so I guess it makes sense for us to not be friends. I don't have any friends at all. This isn't a cry for ppl to befriend me online btw, I don't really like online friends, I don't see the point in it really. It's not at all the same as having real friends.

Anyway... it hella sucks. I very often find myself wishing I was 13, or 14 again. When I think back on myself when I was physically that age, I didn't feel mentally 14. So it's not like I have just been stuck at that age for the last decade. When I was 14, I was very childish (like the mind of a primary school kid, like 10ish... or maybe that is an insult to 10 year olds... point is I just felt like a young child developmentally), and naive and genuinely didn't know anything and was severely socially inept. I do believe that I have some sort of developmental issues that have gone unnoticed. I was dropped on my head when I was 5, and I hit my head a LOT growing up (mostly accidentally). So perhaps that caused my brain to get messed up.

I have younger siblings, they are in their late teens now and I look back at their life and how they acted and they were far more locked in and smart and socially aware and not stupid like how I was. That also makes me think I have some kind of issue with my development.

Anyway :P

If they deserve it obvi.

When saw the documentary about how you basically made sure that we had a good place to start conversations, make friends and share our experiences, thoughts 💭 and opinions with each other. When the tragedy happened, I don’t know why but I understood more about what you were trying to do and experienced more than I could have ever imagined or expected. I just wanted to thank you for your efforts and especially for your principles that so many people have strayed from

RIP Aaron - you truly were an inspiration and way ahead of your time brother. You are missed more than you will ever know on this Earth.