My boyfriend ate the last slice of pizza last night. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is to me.

I've been trying to lose weight, and my boyfriend makes it so hard in a few ways. He brings me home fast food all the time, even after I asked him not to because I want to lose weight. When we order food, he often asks if I really want what I just ordered, if I want to get a bigger size, am I sure I don't want more food, etc. I let him know that when I order food, I order what I want, and that his questioning my order every time puts pressure on me to order differently or order more when I don't want that.

To save money/ eat better, I cook a lot. In fact, I do 100% of the cooking and 90% of the cleaning. I make him lunches for work too, to save money (he will just buy whatever fast food if I don't pack him lunch, costing us money). I know our budget well enough that I know I can't eat out every day. In fact, I rarely treat myself to fast food. 

So now we get to the pizza. 

He bought a whole pizza for his coworkers this weekend. Okay, we can't afford it and I've been out of vitamins for a month, but fine. He got a second pizza just for us. He asked what kind I wanted. I said cheese. He asked if I wanted pepperoni or combo instead. I told him that I will eat whatever makes him happy if he doesn't want cheese. He got the cheese.

He brought it home and I ate two slices (I was starving and too tired to cook that day). I was so so grateful for the pizza. 

The next morning, there are only two slices left (of 16 total on a costco pizza) I eat one, and think about the other. I was craving cheese pizza for weeks now, and I wanted to actually enjoy more of the pizza he got. He already ate most of it. I resist, and cook myself healthier stuff, saving that last cheese slice for my breakfast today. 

Last night, I made my boyfriend 4 burritos and 5 taquitos covered in cheese and enchilada sauce. He then ate doritos. Then, at 3am, I look over, and he woke up and is eating the last slice of cheese pizza. And all I could think about is how I resisted eating more than I needed before, but how my fear came true. He bought a pizza for us but ate most of it himself. 

He eats so much that I found myself running out of my home cooked healthy meals in one night when normally that meal would last me 4 days or more. What really sucks is that if I don't eat fast enough, he eats most of what I worked hard to prepare. It pushes me to eat more in the rightful fear that my delicious healthy feast would be gone if I don't. I also get that fear with the rare occasions I get to eat out.

I have been resisting that fearful eating more and I've been losing weight for a year now. But damn, I cried when he ate that last slice of cheese pizza.

The year started with me being falsely arrested back in January, for a crime I did not commit, in a city/county I had not been in for months. A police officer falsely identified me as being behind the wheel of a car he had stopped. They didn’t actually investigate anything, there was a knock on my door and I was arrested on a warrant the officer put out. I spent 8 days in jail and this whole thing lingered until August when charges were filed against me, and I was able to finally see the body cam footage to prove it wasn’t me. The charges were dropped because I have visible tattoos on my arm that the driver did not, there was no apology or admission of wrongdoing by the department or prosecution office.

2 weeks after my release my mom found my grandma in the bathroom unresponsive and foaming out the mouth. She had 2 emergency surgeries, the doctors did not think she would make it but she did, 3 months of being in the hospital and going through physical therapy she was finally able to go home and I was the one who was helping her get around the house but 5 days after she had gotten back I fell and broke my leg and dislocated my ankle. I am just now getting better enough to walk on my own but still have lingering pain in my ankle and my leg swells up when I am up too long. My grandma doesn’t get up and move around like she should and I feel it’s partially my fault because I am not helping her move around. The bills are piling up and I can’t even afford to go to my doctor’s appointments anymore so I had to cancel them.

Honestly everything has been downhill since 2023. There was a random shooting outside of my apartment and I got lucky because the stray bullets that were going to end up in my room hit the AC unit instead and didn’t go all the way through. I really just needed a place to vent, I don’t really have anyone I can talk to about everything, so to anyone who reads this, thank you.

I am writing this here instead of confronting who this is actually about because I am getting my period soon and I don't know if the intense resentment I feel will last or if it is even accurate.

Fuck you.

We were in a committed relationship for years. They weren't the best, they weren't the worst. We just couldn't be the person the other needed. It was sad, devastating even but as is life. You roll with the punches. We still had a lease together so we decided to live together despite no longer being together.
As soon as he felt comfortable, he was outside doing god knows what in these streets. He said he didn't like the club scene while we were together. That's exactly where he was after we were no longer together. Going out for drinks with coworkers, making out with randos in bars and restaurants. Slept with others. He didn't rack up bodies (to my knowledge) but was out enough.

I wasn't. I was at home drowning my sorrows but that's the typical story right? The girl cries her eyes out for weeks and mourns the relationship while he fills his time with distractions until they don't fill the void anymore.

After our breakup, if felt so wrong to move on. How could I go out and share an intimate moment with another if we are still coming home together? How could I ever look at the man I had wanted to marry after being with someone else? This is how I felt. He didn't feel this way at the time. And if he did, it didn't hurt him enough to change what he was doing. I told him I didn't want to move on (not the best thing to say, I will admit) and that I will not be dating or going out. Our relationship was a bit messy and maybe toxic while together. Broken up we were incredibly messy and toxic to each other. I eventually told him if he fucked someone else, I was done with the relationship (more mentally) and would be moving on. Well, as you read above, he did that.

I went on 1 date. 1 date.

He demanded I tell him who I went on a date with. I refused. He put his fucking hands on me. He grabbed me and pushed me around. He choked me. He broke a door. He left bruises on my arms, chest and neck. The bruises stayed on my fucking body for 3 weeks. I had to look at myself in the mirror everyday. For weeks. And see what he did to me.

He was incredibly remorseful. He hated himself. He couldn't stand to see the bruises or the broken door. It's like a switch flicked in his head. He began to work on himself. He's trying to be less egotistical. He got a therapist. Stopped drinking. Doesn't vape anymore. Looking for a psychiatrist. Filling his days with the gym, meal prepping and friends. He's trying to be a better person.

I am so incredibly happy to see this. Ecstatic. Over the moon. This is the man I was with and who I wanted to marry. God, I am so happy to see him grow into a person I know he can be proud of.

But the cost of him getting here was me. ME. My sanity.

I lived with bruises for 3 weeks. I had to hide them with makeup and long sleeves. The nightmares. The daydreams filled with the horrors. I had to live in the house with the holes in doors while he got to leave and move into his own place. I had to be reminded every single day what he did to me. I can't watch or listen to any true crime without getting scared, nauseous or getting memories. Not even silly little tiktoks about the subjects. I can't talk about this event without crying and hyperventilating. I get incredibly scared around angry men. I hate myself for freezing and not fighting back when he left me those bruises. I feel weak. I can't talk about this to my friends because I don't want the questions the "did you call the cops?", "did you take any pictures?", "are you okay omgggg???", "do you want me to hurt him?".

I can't. I can barely deal with my own emotions about this; I can't deal with anyone else's. I told my therapist. That's about it.

I'm not going to do this because I still have some respect for him (look plz don't judge me okay- tough situation)

But fuck I want everyone to know what you did to me. I want every single one of your friends to know why we aren't trying to fix things. I want every girl you ever date to know what you are capable of. You are not what you did, you just did the bad thing. But you still did it. TO ME. I want everyone to know why you are so nice now. Why you are so patient. Why you go out of your way to do nice things for people. I want everyone to understand you are changing because you showed yourself and me how truly ugly of a thing you could do. I want people to see that pictures of the faded bruises I eventually took. Took me a couple weeks to even get the courage to do that.

I wanted the man you are becoming. I wanted him. I wanted to be loved by the best version of you. The kind, patient, loving, respectful and understanding version of you. I wanted the you who didn't automatically put himself first. I wanted you to hold me and caress me like I was made of fine china, trusting that you would never hurt or drop me.

I am jealous and selfish. I know I said wanted up there but fuck, I want. I want this version of you for me. I want to say that is my man who I am so proud to be next to. I didn't need anymore trauma. I want my pain and suffering to have been for a fucking reason.

I am glad you're getting better. But the cost of admission was me. So here I am, just working through substance abuse. Trying to focus on me and what I need to do to be a better version of myself. There's just so much in my head.

I don't know how I feel about anything.

I don't want to get in the way of your healing so you never ever ever fucking do this to someone else ever again. That's why I am writing this here.

I couldn’t handle the toxic environment anymore. I became a target and just couldn’t take the pressure. I should’ve waited until the start of November so I could keep my insurance but I couldn’t do it. I feel so stupid and broken. I should feel happy but I don’t, I feel exhausted and overwhelmed.

I know this isn’t interesting, I’m just really hurt.

Hey reddit, I am new here and I have been scrolling through everyones vents and confessions seeing how some are quite hard hitting. So to lighten the mood heres a funny embarrassing story of something that happened to me as a child that no one knows the real reason for.

I am a 21M and this incident ocurred to me when I was 13. I was playing football with my friends outside our local stadium and got a call from my mom saying I had to be home as I was going out for a family meal to celebrate my fathers birthday.

What people know is that in the time it took me to walk home from the park back to my house I broke my finger. On the surface I told everyone that before I left my friend threw the football at me to take home with me and I caught it weirdly and heard a snap in my finger. My mom took me to hospital after the meal and they diagnosed me with a fractured finger and was told to avoid sport for 3/4 weeks whilst it healed.

I ignored that because I was 13 and didnt know any better so I continued to play football with my friends after school. I went home that evening and said to my mom “I think my finger has gotten worse”. We went back to the doctor and turns out that my finger was now no longer fractured but also dislocated. My finger was seriously fucked.

My family and friends all saw this as a crazy and unlucky coincedence but they dont know the real story.

To stop you waiting here is what really happened. After I got the call from my mom to come home to get ready to go out I was walking along the street and noticed my shoelaces were undone. I go to bend down and retie my shoes and somehow stand on my finger and hear a crack. Shit. I knew my finger was bad as I couldnt move it so I ran home immediately and came up with a story as I was red with embarrassment that I had essentially snapped my finger like a carrot.

Then the following week I was playing football again and my friends left me on the field alone as they had to go home. I went to go tie my show laces again and by some miracle my finger slithered its way under there and I heard a little snap. I fucking did it again..

In my head I was like “wow you idiot, how have you done this twice no one can know now”. So I went home and told the half truth about a “repeated incident”, they just didnt get the truth about the incident.

But now looking back 8 years later I laugh to myself when people ask me in small talk if I have ever broken a bonee and this story always pops to mind.

Thank you for listening reddit, random 21 American male signing out

No ages or genders, I wanna keep this fairly anonymous. If anyone who knows me DOES find this somehow I'm pretty sure they'll put it together from the details I've given but damn I gotta talk to someone.

Pretty much what the title says lol. For the past 5 ish years I've been head over heels for my best friend. When I realised I had fallen for them I decided to bottle it up to keep our friendship together. I told myself I was mistaken, that this couldn't be love, because I was too young to know. But as time went on the feelings only got stronger and now they're the most important person in my life. When I wake up I check messages, when I watch a series I message them. We call frequently and I'm honestly so happy.

They know this by now, after I confessed all this one time when we actually got to meet up. I don't think they feel quite the same as I do, this overwhelming intensity, but they've said things that meant a lot to me. So it's a strong relationship, long distance, and it's lasted over the years.

Now the complications. We're both the same assigned sex, and the world is the world. While I've lived a very fortunate life in regards to my identity, even I have to go back in the closet sometimes. And that's not even starting on what they've experienced. I would never ask for any more than what we have. Being part of a secret situationship was never how I expected my life going and I can't lie, sometimes it's hard. I can't tell my own family about where things are at, I'm evasive regarding relationships in a way I never was before. I know I've got the easy end of things, but sometimes knowing I'll never have a normal relationship makes me want to just sob.

I mean it is always possible someday I'll move on. The thing is, right now, I don't want to. I want whatever I can have with this person. It's the best part of my day, the best thing in my life. I'm fully prepared to take on the pain I know is waiting from keeping all this secret for so long. I went over all this in my head when I was figuring things out. I knew we could never be together. And that was something I had to be okay with.

We talk constantly, and things are beautiful right now. I'm so happy most of the time. Sure, sometimes I get a bit down but something I've learnt is that love isn't easy. You gotta work sometimes.

So yeah, sorry for how vague this is. I just need to express it somehow, that I'm still, all these years in, in love with the same person I know I can't be with. That I am figuring life out. That sometimes the love being there is enough and you can figure something out for one another.

And I'm happy.

My best friend of 15 years has had horrible choices in men. I am not talking oh he’s a little mean no. I’m talking serial cheaters, physical abusers, very bad men.

The newest guy she dated for a year in 2020 until she caught him cheating and he gave her chlamydia. She decided to give him another chance a little over a year ago. They moved in together in August. She moved to his state (3 states away/16 hours away)

She found out about 2ish months ago that he had been cheating the entire time. With over 30 women (no I am not exaggerating) paying women for sex, going to strip clubs and then begging women for conversation on Instagram. He has given her BV over 10 times, an array of other stds and now genital herpes. He is also in over $100,000 in debt paying for luxurious vacations he cannot afford and he currently has no job. (If you’re wondering these vacations have been planned so that my friend cannot attend but he invites other women and she is expected to be okay with that)

Like all the other times, she is rightfully inconsolable. I took a week of work off to fly to see her. I helped her pick up all of the pieces, I cooked for her, helped her shower, help her move his things into their guest bedroom, etc. I of course wanted to do this for my best friend.

Come to find out, after I flew home he went to their house to talk to her. She forgave him for everything immediately, believed that he would change and let him stay.

Well now we are here, and she is now pregnant. She is freaking out because he is staying in another state for the next 3 months for “work” and she is inconsolable and is asking me to come down to help her process everything.

I want to be there for her I really do, but we are both 30 now. I am married and have a child of my own now. The last 15 years has been me dropping everything to be there for her and when I have really needed a friend she wouldn’t even pick up the phone. I want to be there for her but I am so tired.

I have a decent network of friends; I'm not completely alone by any means. But in the grander scheme of things, the majority of my friendships only exist within the grander context of a friend group per say. So it's all good and seems fine when meet up in person every month or so.

The part that sucks is the period of time in between the months that we all hang out, where apart from when we plan the next get together, it's just... complete radio silence pretty much. No texts, no calls, nothing. Almost as if my friendship with others only exists within the context of the group. And I know despite this we're still friends, but during the long periods of silence I can't help but wonder if I'm actually anywhere as near as close to these people as I thought we were.

And in scenarios like these where I really wish people would talk to me or stay in contact, I would always be told "you just have to reach out. You be the person to send a text or call first". But I just don't understand why it always has to be me. If I always have to reach out first or else I won't get a response, does anyone really care? What happens once I stop reaching out first and I get the silent treatment again? It's hard for me to be the one to take initiative to reach out when I've hardly been given the same treatment or reciprocation back in my direction. I don't want to solely be in one sided friendships.

I’m a late bloomer and struggled socially as a kid. At 30 years old, I made it a point to make sure I formed more meaningful platonic relationships, as my life was revolving around romantic relationships. After my last relationship recently ended, I wanted to step outside my comfort zone and push myself to get out there to make friends after realizing my support system is basically non existent and all I had was my romantic partner. It has been a nightmare.

I’m not socially anxious, I just can be shy like I imagine most people are. As a man though, it has been utterly exhausting going to meet new people and meeting the following types of people:

1. Other men who just want to have a dick measuring contest about how manly they are. Not interested in spending an entire evening hearing about how many women you ‘pull’, or how many hours you work to be on that ‘grind’.

2. Women who think I’m trying to hit on them. I’m not going up to strangers in random places, I’m going to specific ‘meet ups’ labeled for making friends. I almost feel like I need to say ‘hi, I’m Rickayy_OG, I’m not trying to hit on you just trying to make friends’. I’m not blaming women at all, since there are a lot of predatory men out there, but it sucks to navigate nonetheless.

3. Socially awkward people who you have to interview to get basic info from them. I get they are at places to meet people too and have good intentions, but it sucks to basically be in an interview with someone because they can’t have a basic back and forth conversation.

I want to make friends so I don’t spend all my time alone. We live in such an anti social world filled with rage baiters, attention seekers, and fakers who don’t actually want to form meaningful relationships. Shit; even on Reddit forums it feels like it’s just rampant with AI profiles collecting info from people for their bots.

I’m obviously going to keep putting myself out there to find my people, but it’s exhausting sometimes! I don’t want to be best friends with my coworkers, I don’t want to keep going to meet ups that just feel like a bunch of anxious people in a room trying to make it work. I just want to make some friends to drink beers with, go on hikes and just talk.

Oh well, onwards and upwards I suppose!

Honestly I lack complete discipline. I have no discipline whatsoever when it comes to weight loss and just need to vent about it. I’m curvy and everyone around me says there’s nothing wrong with me (except my mum) but I just want to lose weight. I struggle with my mental health so I guess maybe it’s overwhelming to think of all the things to do ? I dunno I think it’s purely lack of discipline.

I'm 20 years old and I am so tired of being angry

My parents divorced when I was younger because my father was unfaithful. He cheated. moved on, married and started another family and has a kid. Sometimes I wonder how the fuck someone gets to destroy their family and then just start over like nothing happened. I don't know if he gives a fuck about me, he barely calls me and I know the only reason he does is because my grandfather pressures him to.

I have a younger brother with special needs and while I love him it's difficult growing up with him, I had to take on pressures at a young age that I wasn't prepared for because my dad was too much of a fucking coward to take care of his boy. It's not even just about me, my brother is nonverbal he doesn't understand what happened, just one random day his father just disappeared and that breaks my heart.

It has been the worst for my mother who had to look over 2 kids all by herself and she had taken that anger out at me threatening to kick me out over shit that just didn't matter.

I don't just hate what my father did, I hate who I have become. I am so insecure, so bitter, so resentful I crave attention and validation and I hate admitting that. I hate how easily I get hurt.

Im not gonna blame my dad for every shitty thing that i've ever done I made my own mistakes, i've hurt people I've acted in ways that make me ashamed and I have to take responsibility for that.

But I wonder who I could have been if my life had been different. Maybe I would be calmer, kinder, at peace. It feels like I've lost who I was supposed to become even if that person doens't really exist.

I don't want any revenge, i dont want to spend my whole lfie blaming other people, I just want to wake up one day and have some peace.

I'm getting mad that I can't stop hurting about my loneliness, that every day, every year passes in a blink and I'm getting older and older and love still feels like a completely alien concept to me. I want to experience it just once before I die... but then balk at the thought to burden someone with myself.

I hate my parents and my family. My father was never shy in expressing his disappointment in me for not being an athlete like him, but a scrawny nerd instead. And my extremely paranoid and fear-driven mother is responsible for all anxieties and I have to pretend it isn't so to avoid her getting a meltdown. When my father cheated on her and fled the house, he left my mother behind in a house she couldn't afford, causing her to move into my tiny two-room apartment I moved out to for university when I was 19. Now I'm 33 and she pressured me into buying her a house where I am supposed to take care of her until she dies, making it clear that this is the only viable path and any other would mean I condemn her to homelessness. Every step of that path was accompanied by verbal abuse, with her kicking down on me all the time to vent her frustration at me being useless and not having been finished with all the renovation work yesterday. And yes, I get it, every time I vented about it on the internet, people were screaming at me to "just move out" and leave her behind. But I am a coward with zero privacy who had her hovering behind my shoulder every wake moment. I didn't see how I could possibly do the house hunting and paperwork behind her back without it blowing up and her retaliating, because she is also an extremely vengeful person. Yes, I'm a coward, I'm a doormat... and the crushing hopelessness about my situation wasn't helping either.

The thing is... I... know I am too old and broken socially by now. I never had friends ever. In school I was bullied from 3rd grade onward, and university was overshadowed by my mother's six-years divorce-battle, coming home everyday to her crying and accusing me of not giving enough of a shit about her. I started out behind in my social skills, but it was then I developed full-blown social anxiety as I was so ashamed of my nightmarish home situation and couldn't really interact with people beyond the surface-level because of it. I know if anyone knew what I was going through, they'd instantly ditch me, because nobody wants to be around with someone who has issues, with someone who might drag them down in a moment of depression, who can't just lift them up. And so... I retreated...

And now I'm fucking 33. Time is rushing past me. I missed all the milestones of a normal life. When I was 19, I was thinking this is temporary, my mother would move out once things have been worked out. I thought to just pause working on my social life until I have the freedom to do so. 14 years later, that day never happened. I fought tooth and nails that it's a two-family home, so now I have my own door I can close and am not exposed to her all the time for the first time in my life. But does it matter? She still lives upstairs? She still judges me every time I leave the house unannounced. She still expects me to drop everything and help her with every little thing. I don't want to bring anyone into this situation. I don't want to make anyone miserable, particularly someone I would care about. And yet I want to make someone happy who makes me feel good about myself. I feel like I need someone to give me hope that I'm not utterly unlikable, that I am not completely worthless and that fighting for them and by extension myself could be worth it.

... but then I would expose such a person to... myself and my situation. I can't do that. I can never do that. And that breaks me. I'm torn between this absurdly selfish wish and the knowledge of how I'm a useless coward who could only disappoint. And this is what drives me insane these days.

I have really a really bad domestic situation at home. Its really bad, and its dictated a lot of my life. My parents are decently well off, however my dad is extremely abusive to my mom. This makes it really bad to the level of cops being called, etc, and I only care because I have a minor sister back home. I would love to cut ties with all of them but we are an immigrant family, and I realize that we really truly only know each other. I have not tried to get off anything in university, but have recently been asking for help and I just feel so ashamed. I truly need the help, like there are violent things I can't share with them because it is so complicated because my mom doesn't want to put a case or anything on my Dad and she would shut me out if I did it forcefully for her. They both also get physical with me. But I feel ashamed because I'm a graduate student, and I fear the professors would look down on me and see it as an excuse. I don't know how to get over this shame.

I’m a recent graduate in the final rounds of a good traineeship where personal development and self-reflection are a big part of the program. The interview was with an HR person and a current trainee. They said at the start that it was a safe space to be open.

They kept asking “why” and asked me to go “a layer deeper.” I said I make careful choices because I want to do things well. When they asked where that comes from, and whether my family puts pressure on me, because I mentioned them as they are important to me. I got emotional and cried. I shared personal and emotional things about my background that I haven’t even told my friends.

After that I was a bit thrown off for the rest of the interview. They still told me about the next steps, and said I could reach out if I had other offers.

Now I feel embarrassed and exposed, and I’m not sure I can face them again. Is this as bad as it feels? Does it hurt a candidate’s chances in a program like this?

Idk, it's just that woman are more mature then guys at my school.. Like if a dude thinks I'm ugly then okay, but if a girl thinks I'm ugly I'd be so heart broken cause then I prolly am ugly af 💔💔💔 and what girls think is just way more important to me. I'm not lesbian tho, but still jrjejeleokelenmekejejdjend is this weird? Or do all girls think the same jkekendjdjdjeorldoidjdbdmdmnd like if a guy compliments me, then that's sweet and he'd make me happy, but if a girl compliments me then it genuinely makes me wanna scream out of joy ndmdlowhanmkdhsneiwnekekdkdjdjjdjdj this is stupid 😂😂😂 Oki I needed that of my chest ensjskme ty for reading this

So, obviously, I (25M) can't blame middle child syndrome for the way my life is. I acknowledge that I'm inherently in control for how likable and approachable I am as a person in every aspect of my life.

That being said, ever since I was a kid I pretty much had to learn to fend for myself and not rely on anyone. I'm the first kid born in the states in my family. I have three brothers, two being older with a 15 year age gap and one younger brother with a 4 year age gap. The two older brothers used to treat me differently because of how different life was here compared to where they were raised, and my younger brother got more attention growing up from my parents. Especially when they got more well-adjusted to living in the states. However, as we got older there was a lot less resentment and neglect in the family and we hold pretty solid relationships now.

Despite all of that, I've come to realize after some self-care recently (will get into that later), that middle child syndrome is practically in every part of my life and how I was as a kid never really left. In a lot of friend groups I'm in I am usually the floater friend and also the "middle child". I am sometimes too young to engage in conversations held by older friends in their early 30s, but too old to understand a lot of stuff mentioned by friends who are still in college. This, of course, is a me problem as I wish I understood a lot of these things, but because of this people in these friend groups could hang out one-on-one with each other while I am usually only involved in group hangouts.

In high school I didn't have many friends either. I was awkward, but put in more effort to make friends despite all of that. However, the people I was friends with were very much more social than I ever was and I learned when I caught up with some of them recently that they definitely didn't study all that much in high school as I used to think. Due to their connections, they were able to get cheat sheets for tests, copy essays in classes I was also in. This was all while I was sometimes struggling to get a B in some difficult AP courses. While I don't condone cheating, I was going through a depressive period in high school due to the difficulty of some of the stuff I was doing, especially by myself.

Now, for the reason I'm making this post, I am currently a photographer by trade (mostly wedding/events) and *was* part of a community that involved a lot of subject related photography. I'm not here to bash said community as it's responsible for a lot of highs in my life. I met my first and current partner of two years through this community, and the times I was socially thriving were pretty great for me as someone who never really had such sociability in other times of my life. When I joined this community I found it very easy to make friends, and people were propping me up all the way through and felt like I was improving in a craft I was very passionate in. However, nowadays it's been difficult to maintain friendships as people moved onto different photographers and other reasons (especially with the stigma male photographers get from recently conflicts). I've been changing my style to become more creative and less traditional and turns out people aren't the biggest fan of that. I eventually left because I didn't get much support for my vision and getting paid to do something I wasn't having fun with despite the "fun" part being the reason I partook in this community was affecting my mental health. Not to mention the stuff I heard from friends about me behind my back.

I left two months ago today and things have been better for me mentally, even though no one really reached out after. However, a friend of mine who has always been something of a social butterfly in the community took up photography about a year ago and I can admittedly say they're "better" than me now despite me having years of experience on them. I gave them a lens, helped them buy a camera, gave them tips starting out and I want the best for them, even now. The reason I say this is because through social media they get a lot more support than I ever did, they get to shoot with people I used to be close to and likewise because of their social nature they're able to connect with other photographers I wish I could connect with and learn from. I'm evidently insecure and jealous about this, and made me realize that "fending for myself" and being independent actually isn't all that fun.

I'm now realizing how lonely I actually am, and how stifled I feel by not being a better person people can be friends with and help out. This "middle child syndrome" that started when I was a mere child never really left me, it just took up different forms and I never really got past it. Am I really a bad person? Am I just in the wrong crowd? I don't know. I'm constantly told by my partner and my family that I'm a great person and wish they knew how I actually was, but I'm always in doubt about that.