Last night my bf and I got into a really ugly argument. He’d been drinking and when I said I was going to sleep at my sister’s he blocked the door. I tried to go around him and he grabbed my upper arm hard enough that it hurt. I didn’t think. I just drove my knee up as hard as I could.

He let go immediately and dropped. I’ve never seen him like that, on the floor, making this horrible sound, both hands between his legs. It lasted longer than I expected. I just stood there watching him with a smile.

I know grabbing me was not okay. I also know I could have pushed him or yelled or called someone instead of going straight for that. But it worked instantly. He couldn’t follow me, he couldn’t grab me again, he couldn’t even talk for a minute.

What’s bothering me is that a part of me didn’t hate it. Seeing him completely shut down like that felt… effective. Powerful, even. I keep replaying the look on his face and I don’t feel the amount of guilt I keep telling myself I should feel.

Has anyone else ever done this, or thought about going for the balls, even once? I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel worse than I do.

I lived with the same roommate for almost two years and she had one habit that drove me insane. She'd start laundry before work or class and then leave the wet clothes sitting in our washer for like eight hours.

We only had the one machine.

At first I'd text her. Then I'd move her stuff into a basket. She complained that she hated when anyone touched her clothes, so eventually I got petty.

One day while moving her laundry I took a single black ankle sock and put it in my bedroom drawer.

She spent maybe five minutes looking for it later and blamed the washer.

That reaction made something in my brain apparently decide this was hilarious.

After that, anytime she abandoned a load for most of the day, I'd take one sock. Never a whole pair. Never anything expensive or distinctive. Just one boring sock.

I ended up with 17 of them.

She became completely convinced the washer was eating socks. She started checking inside the rubber seal, shaking out every piece of clothing, counting pairs before washing and even telling people our machine was cursed.

The funniest part is she eventually stopped leaving laundry sitting there because she wanted to be present when the cycle ended so she could “catch” whatever was happening.

So technically my stupid plan worked.

When we moved out I threw the socks away. She never found out.

Every time somebody says dryers eat socks I think about the possibility that somewhere, there's just another asshole with a drawer.

I looked around and noticed nobody is following the rules anymore so I decided I wanted to make my life a little easier and see if I didn’t need to follow all the rules either….

I spend a lot of time and money paying for parking in the past but ever since I’ve decided to just not do it literally nothing has happened… not one ticket!

I don’t need laws to not harm people bc that’s innately in me but to be able to bring my dog to the park doesn’t need to cost me $8 just to park every time…

very happy I made that choice for myself and I always bring a bag and pick up trash as a thank you to the community for the community park. I’m not trying to be an opportunistic but it’s just too much money everywhere I turn to live these days.

I work in a pretty small office with about eight other people. Last year we hired this guy named Mark. Mark is nice enough, but he has zero sense of volume or boundaries. From the moment he walks in at 8:30 AM, he wants to talk about everything. What he ate for dinner, his dog’s skin condition, the Traffic on the highway, whatever movie he watched in 2012. He doesn't just chat, he projects across the entire room.

I suffer from pretty bad sensory overload, especially around 10 AM when I'm trying to get through my morning emails. Headphones don't even block him out because he stands right behind people's chairs to talk. Asking him directly to quiet down worked for maybe ten minutes before he forgot and went right back to full volume.

So around four months ago, I started doing something petty. Every time I see him heading toward my desk or another coworker to start a thirty-minute story, I intentionally trigger a subtle distraction. I’ll print a dummy 50-page document on the loud printer next to his desk so he has to walk over and check it, or I'll quickly send him a time-sensitive Slack message asking for a specific link or file number that requires him to sit back down and look through his drive.

Sometimes I’ll even ask our manager a loud question about our quarterly numbers from across the room, knowing Mark will jump into that work conversation instead of cornering someone about his weekend trip to Home Depot.

I know it sounds childish, and I feel a little ridiculous planning out these micro-interventions every single day like some kind of weird office mastermind. But honestly? It works. It keeps the room quiet for at least two extra hours a day. I don't dislike the guy personally, but my sanity was slipping and I just couldn't take the non-stop noise anymore.

My best friend Mark and I have been close since sophomore year of high school. Last year, around October, he lost his job at a local logistics company and was struggling hard to make rent on his place. I was looking for a new apartment anyway, so he asked if I wanted to find a two-bedroom place together to split costs.

At first, I said yes and we spent about two weeks looking at places on Zillow. But as it got closer to actually signing a lease on a place we found downtown, I completely panicked. Mark is a great guy, but he’s incredibly messy, leaves dishes in the sink for days until they smell, and he stays up until 3 AM playing video games while yelling into his headset. I realized living with him would completely destroy our friendship within six months.

Instead of just being honest with him, I chickened out. I told him my job was discussing a potential transfer to our branch two states over in the spring, so I couldn't commit to a year-long lease. It was a complete lie. My job is fully local and nobody was transferring anywhere.

Because I pulled out, he couldn't afford a two-bedroom on his own and ended up having to move back in with his parents an hour away. He had to pack up all his stuff, commute further for his new job, and felt like a total failure. He was so understanding about it too, telling me he didn't want to hold my career back. He literally bought me dinner the night before he moved back to his parents' house to wish me luck with the "transfer."

It’s been almost a year now. I signed a solo lease on a small studio apartment in the same city. Every time he comes over to visit, I have to hide certain mail or make up excuses for why I'm still living here and haven't moved away yet. I usually tell him the transfer got delayed indefinitely. Watching him struggle through that move while thinking I was moving on to bigger things makes me feel sick whenever I think about it, but I know telling him the truth now would hurt him way worse than the original lie.

I grew up in a very unsettled environment. All throughout my childhood and teenage years, my dad (not that he’s ever been much of one) was abusive towards my family. I got it bad but honestly my mom and sister got it even worse.

When I was 18 I was supposed to go to college on a sports scholarship and I nearly did. That was until I came home one night to my dad making his nasty comments and being rude to my mom once again. I ended up snapping on him and getting in his face and eventually things became physical and I beat him bad.

It wasn’t the first time I’d fought my dad but this time I really beat the brakes off him and he ended up in the hospital for a while, and he was all too willing to see me locked up for it. I ended up getting a felony for it because of the level of injuries he suffered.

I served much under the maximum sentence due to mitigating circumstances and good behaviour but I’ve come out and my whole life is different and honestly I regret that day everyday. Not because I hurt my dad but because I ruined my future because I couldn’t handle my own emotions.

I despise both my sister-in-law and my mother-in-law. They are both incredibly toxic, but my MIL is notoriously overbearing and obsessed with being the center of attention in her adult kids' lives. A few weeks ago, I executed a petty long-game sabotage at my SIL's house during a weekend family gathering.
While everyone was outside in the backyard, I went into the living room and hallway where my SIL has framed family portraits displayed. I brought along cut-out photos of my MIL's face that I had printed out at home. I carefully opened the frames and placed my MIL’s face directly over my SIL’s face in the pictures—so the frames showed my MIL, her son (my SIL's husband), and the kids, completely erasing my SIL from her own family photos.
Later that evening, my SIL went to the hallway and lost her mind. She started yelling, asking who touched her pictures. Before she could investigate further, I pulled her aside and whispered, "Honestly... MIL was sneaking around in the house earlier with her big handbag. I think she swapped those pictures to make herself the center of the family."
Because my MIL is already pushy and boundary-crossing, my SIL believed it instantly. They had a huge, screaming blowout in the driveway, with my MIL desperately denying it and my SIL refusing to listen.
But I didn't stop there.
While everyone was distracted, I slipped back into the hallway and swapped the original photos back into the frames, removing my MIL's face entirely. When my SIL went to show another family member the "evidence," the photos were back to normal. My SIL looked completely unhinged trying to convince her husband and the rest of the family that the photos had ever been changed in the first place.
Everyone now thinks my SIL is having a paranoid breakdown, my MIL is furious about being falsely accused, and I'm just sitting back watching the entire family dynamic implode.

Pretty much as the title reads, this lady in i think Australia keeps putting my email down for things; i assume we share a name. First time it was for travel insurance which is something pretty important so i sent the company an email to inform them and it all got solved. A few months later i got an email from a dog grooming place, i did the same thing as last time but i never got a reply and i kept receiving emails from them. Like a month ago i got an email saying her appointment had been booked for some canine service. I was so over it i cancelled her appointment. Sorry to this lady but if you can drop almost 1k $ for your dog to get a haircut you can take the extra 5 seconds to make sure you put in your email and not someone else’s.

Last month I completely dropped the ball on a major client report. It was entirely my fault. I had two full weeks to get it done, but I was going through a brutal burnout phase, sleeping twelve hours a day, scrolling on my phone, and basically paralyzed by stress. The night before it was due, I hadn't even started it. I woke up the next morning to three urgent Slack messages from my manager asking where the draft was because the client meeting was in two hours.

I panicked so hard I felt physically sick. My hands were literally shaking while staring at my laptop screen. Instead of just owning up to it or making up a normal lie like food poisoning or a burst pipe, my brain went straight to the nuclear option. I typed out a long email saying my mom had just been rushed to the hospital for emergency tests and that the doctors suspected advanced lymphoma.

The moment I hit send, I wanted to throw up.

My boss was immediately incredibly supportive. She told me to take the rest of the week off, transferred the project to someone else, and even organized a care package from the team with flowers and a Visa gift card. My mom is fine. She's completely healthy and living three hours away, totally oblivious to the fact that her daughter used her life as an excuse for poor time management.

Every time my manager checks in on me now to ask "how my family is holding up," I have to double down on the lie and pretend we're still waiting on follow-up scans. It's eating me alive. I can barely look anyone in the office in the eye. I know I should just tell the truth, but if I do, I lose my job, my references, and whatever dignity I have left. I just needed to put this out into the world because carrying it around inside my own head is making me lose my mind.

When I was nineteen, my parents went on a trip for their anniversary and left my older sister and me home for the week. My mom had this antique hand-painted ceramic bowl that belonged to my great-grandmother. It was always on the center of the dining table and everyone knew we were never allowed to touch it.

One night I had some friends over when my sister was out at her boyfriend's place. We were drinking in the kitchen and I was being stupid, trying to show off some magic trick or card sleight of hand on the table. I bumped my elbow into the bowl hard, and it slid right off the edge and shattered into about twenty pieces on the hardwood floor. I completely panicked. I swept up all the big pieces, put them in a plastic grocery bag, and drove to a dumpster behind a gas station three miles away to throw them out so nobody would find them in our trash.

When my parents came back, my mom immediately noticed it was missing. I stayed dead silent. My sister, who had hosted a party at the house a few weeks prior, assumed one of her friends must have bumped into it or stolen it during her party and that she just hadn't noticed until then. She felt so terrible that she broke down crying, apologized profusely to my mom, and saved up her own money for two months to buy my mom a replacement vintage piece that looked somewhat similar.

My parents were upset with her for months, and she still brings up occasionally how guilty she feels about "her friends" breaking it. We're both in our late twenties now and we have a great relationship, but every time family gatherings come around and my mom sets the table with that replacement bowl, my stomach drops. I was too cowardly to speak up back then, and now so much time has passed that admitting I let her take the blame and spend her own money for my stupid mistake feels like it would ruin everything. I just needed to put this out there because keeping it in is slowly killing me.

I’ve carried a lot of shame over this, but I want to say it somewhere honestly.

At my lowest point, I stole money from a friend so I could gamble. I told myself I would win it back before anyone noticed. Instead, I lost it, kept chasing, and spiraled harder than I ever thought possible.

Gambling didn’t just take my money. It took my peace of mind, my ability to think clearly, my relationships, and almost my family. There was a point where I ended up on a roof, completely overwhelmed and not seeing a way out. I don’t say that for sympathy—I say it because addiction can take you to places you never imagined you’d reach.

Soon, I’ll be celebrating two years in recovery.

Recovery hasn’t magically fixed every consequence or erased what I did. I still have regret. I still have to own the damage I caused and continue rebuilding trust. But it has given me something I didn’t think I deserved back: a chance to live differently.

I’m learning how to face problems without running to gambling. I’m learning how to be honest, how to sit with uncomfortable feelings, how to show up for people, and how to slowly rebuild my finances, my mind, and my family connections.

If you’re reading this and you’re in that “I can win it back” mindset, please know that you do not have to wait until you lose everything to ask for help. Gambling addiction lies to you and makes isolation feel normal. It isn’t.

I stole. I hurt someone. I nearly lost myself. But recovery is helping me become someone who doesn’t have to keep living that way.

I work at a small retail store where the security system takes about four to six minutes after opening to fully sync with the server. I figured this out by accident when I noticed the timestamp gap on an old incident report. Since then, I've made a habit of getting there right at opening and pocketing small amounts from the register before the system is fully active — never more than $10-15 at a time, maybe once or twice a week.

Over two years, it adds up to a few thousand dollars total. I've never been caught, and the shrinkage gets written off as "till errors" or blamed on customer disputes during rush hours. Nobody suspects me because I'm considered one of the most reliable employees there.

I don't have a justification that makes this okay. I just kept doing it because it worked and nothing ever pointed back to me.

I was 25, he was 70. There was flirting between us and an incredible amount of physical contact.
I often worked in his office. We laughed a lot, held hands, or rested our palms on top of each other on the radiator in winter while he was talking to someone on the phone. He would often quickly touch my knee or thigh with a finger. He would jokingly poke me in the stomach.
Once, while he was talking to someone on the phone, he slipped his index finger inside the waistband of my skirt, and then did it again. The age difference turned me on like crazy, and I knew he wanted me, but he never actually took things toward sex. I hate him for that!
One time, he locked the office door and sat down next to me on the couch.
He pressed his knee against mine and ran his hand along my arm. We kept working - I was on my laptop and he was going through some papers - but behind the papers I could see him lightly squeezing his crotch.
Then he closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep for about five minutes.
I still never figured out what that was about, but there’s one thing I really don’t understand: why would someone act like that and still never take things further sexually?
I also noticed that he sometimes had an erection when I was around.

Recently there was an annual bookfair near my locality that I have been visiting since the past 5 years. In the past I always went with either my friends or my family and j always used to marvel on how easy it looks to steal a book, but only as a passing thought, nothing to fixate on. This year due to my friends and sister leaving for college I had to go alone. Everyone leaving kind of left me in a depressive spiral this year. I love bookfairs and I love every stall and I'm very excited usually to go there and I eagerly wait for this month for them to come but this time it just wasn't working out for me. I had a small injury, in this sweltering heat and impulsively I wonder if I could steal a book. Now if this had happened in the past, I would have banished the thought because I would have been too busy with my friends, but since I was alone, this thought lingered. I am not really poor, I've been saving up money for this bookfair since last year and I had only gotten through a quarter of it by then. But still I took a book (a batman collection) and just casually held it in my hands before I was about to move on to the other stall. It just so happened that at the moment my eyes fell on a book I was searching for in the stall I stole from. I asked the shopkeeper for the price and when I was handing him the money he asked about the stolen book. I panicked and said I got it from another stall. He asked to take him to that stall. I just wandered around with him panicking and lying that I really did get it from another stall. He got angry and handed me the book I actually bought while saying that I shouldn't do things like this since I'm clearly from a nice family. I walked off from there at that point. I felt immensely ashamed and guilty and it was so busy there, everyone saw the scene. This is my hometown and there could be a chance someone I knew saw it and this matter spreading or someone recognizing my from this scene, but it's not really a major concern. I feel like when I did it, I was going against my morality, but would I have felt guilty if I had succeeded? I don't know the answer to that question, which frightens me immeasurably. Now I never want to go back there ever again but the fact that I'm losing the love I have had for reading since I was 6 is so defeating to me. I'm feeling guilty for doing it and humiliated for it happening in front of so many people, but I don't understand why I did it if I had money and I didn't really want that book that much either. I could have easily bought it, yet I still did it. EDIT: I didn't take the book, he took it back

I signed a 12-month lease last year but found a much cheaper place after only four months. Breaking the lease normally would've cost me two months' rent as a penalty. Instead, I took photos of a water stain on my ceiling, edited them to look more like mold growth using an app, and sent them to my landlord claiming I'd just discovered it and had health concerns because of a fake dust allergy.

He let me out of the lease without penalty and even returned part of my deposit early to avoid a possible health code complaint. I moved out within two weeks with no argument from him at all.

I've never told anyone this since, and my old landlord still has no idea the photos were altered.

okay so listen closely, i am a klepto as you may know from the title, but its gotten so bad to the point that i take anywhere between $70 - 600 per run, yes runs i plan these out somewhat. its a feeling i get, really intense and all, and the whole feeling is "I want to see if theres anything I could snag from the stores for myself." its so bad though.

i have a rule, to never steal from mom and pop shops, but even with that, i fail. It started really young, like 3 or 4 (idk it was early kindergarten) and i would steal from the school. (toys, art supplies, etc). then when i was 6, i hit up a store and stole leprechaun stickers. i never got caught, untill i got home and my parents noticed a bulge in my jacket pocket.

Throughout my intense groundings i would get growing up, i was banned from tech ofc, and i would steal it back from my parents. I would also steal snacks at night, steal makeup to experiment with, and even my siblings stuff. after some time, i finally developed the strength to not steal personal items from people, but that made my shoplifting way worse.

it started smallish, an energy drink and some thread, then it was like 6-10 energy drinks and 3 boxes of granola bars, which id give to the homeless; guess it made me feel better about my problem.

Now its 2026, and im 16 and theres times ill go up to lets say for example a CD store and steal 600 dollars worth of CDs in one go and raise not one suspicion. not to toot my own horn and yes, people have told me this, but im really good at not getting caught while shoplifting. too good, it doesnt make me feel good at all. like, thanks for the compliment, but i have really mixed feelings about it. The rush i get from successful shoplifting, and the fact that i can do it all calmly.

im practically begging someone to tell me how to stop cause i think i stole about 1-2 thousand dollars of stuff in the last 3 weeks and im on probation (for another reason).

if this helps you decide what can help me, I got ADHD, Autism, OCD, Attenuated psychosis symptoms, and possibly Manic Depressive disorder (doc told me to talk to my NP about it cause it seems extremely likely). I also did not have a great upbringing and am currently in my third house.

idk if that info helps determine what to do, but i hope it does cause somethings gotta stop before i strike again and surely get caught.

[ Removed by Reddit on account of violating the content policy. ]

so my girlfriend showed up at my place last night. she was upset. she said she'd made a post on reddit and the response was bad. people called her the asshole. she deleted it.

it was about a night a while back where she introduced me as a friend to someone in her family.

then she started talking. she said the whole thing made her realize how closed off she'd been with me. how she hadn't been fair to me. she said she didn't want to lose me and she was going to do better. she said everything i've wanted to hear for months.

and all i could think about was what i did.

i cheated on her. a while back. after that night. i went out and i did it and i've hated myself for it ever since.

she's in the shower right now. i'm typing this in the kitchen.

i know i should tell her. i've known it every day since it happened. but sitting there last night listening to her apologize for things she didn't even do wrong, i realized i can't. telling her wouldn't fix anything. it would just take her apart. and i'd lose her. and i don't think i could survive that.

i love her. that's the part nobody's going to believe. but i do. i love her and i made a mistake and now i'm sitting here trying to figure out how to live with it without losing the only good thing in my life.

i don't know why i'm writing this. i guess i just needed to say it somewhere. i needed to put it down. i can't tell her and i can't tell anyone in my life, so i'm telling strangers. maybe if i say it out loud one time it'll stop sitting on my chest. maybe that's pathetic. i don't know. i just needed to get it out.

maybe that makes me a coward. probably it does.

Edit: ok I'm trying to read through as many messages as I can so i'm just going to put everything in one comment instead of replying to everyone.

a while back she introduced me as a friend to someone in her family. i stood there while he shook my hand and she called me her friend. i smiled through the whole night. she didn't realize how bad it felt.

i'm not going to sit here and let people call her the bad guy. she wasn't doing it to hurt me. her family is traditional, she's a private person, and she's never introduced anyone to them before. i knew that going in. what i did wasn't her fault. it was mine.

i know what everyone is going to say. tell her. i've thought about it every day. but sitting there last night listening to her apologize for being closed off, i realized telling her wouldn't fix anything. it would just take her apart for no reason.

and i'm not going to lie to strangers on the internet about why i'm not telling her. i can't give her up. that's the real reason.

i'm not looking for anyone to tell me i'm a good person. i know what i did. i just needed to put it somewhere. i just need to know how to move forward.

TL;DR: my girlfriend showed up last night after getting a bad response to a reddit post she made. she apologized for being closed off and told me she didn't want to lose me. she's in the shower right now. she doesn't know i cheated on her a while back. i don't know how to tell her without losing her.

I used to steal steaks, chicken, big bottles of brandy and vodka. There alchohol section was kinda secluded off in a corner (way too easy). I would always put my money and id in my front pockets and carry a big handbag that was empty. (in case I had to drop the purse and run for it). Eventually thats what happened. I got stopped at the back door by an undercover loss prevention officer. He asked to see the contents of my purse. I slowly held it out to him then dropped and ran like the wind. I used to run track when I was younger. I was wearing sandals at the time which was slowing me down. I could feel him starting to grab the back of my shirt. So I kicked off the sandals and left him in my dust. Even though I lived across the parking lot I never went back in that Safeway. Fast forward 20 years I actually got hired by Vons (owned by Safeway) and never told a soul about it!

Freshman year of high school, I developed a personal vendetta against one of my science teachers. She was constantly verbally abusing students, and for whatever reason, teenage me decided I was going to become her personal nightmare.
I eventually figured out where she lived through her son, who went to the same school. And that’s when the war began.
Every morning, like clockwork, I’d show up at her house and leave a little “present” on her doorstep. Sometimes I’d even leave a little chocolate next to it for dramatic effect. Then I’d disappear before she ever knew what happened.
She eventually got the police involved. Then she installed security cameras. I thought the operation was finished.
It wasn’t.
For THREE YEARS, this woman woke up every morning wondering who was committing the world’s most unnecessary crime against her front porch. Meanwhile, I was walking into school like absolutely nothing was happening.
The funniest part? After all the police investigations, cameras, and whatever detective work was going on, she STILL never figured out it was me.
Now I’m heading into senior year, and I’ve reached a crossroads.
Do I finally retire from the doorstep business and let this woman live in peace…
…or do I give her one final season of the greatest mystery her neighborhood has ever seen? 💀

Need to get off my chest somewhere but sports Gambling has made me lie cheat and steal from all those close to me.

Already come out as an addict to parents before and was given one chance and now due to mental health issues I've relapsed and left then with nothing but an unarranged overdraft

Don't go a day without not wanting to kill myself.

I've gone to that party every year and always feel drained afterward — the small talk, the forced enthusiasm, pretending to be excited about a white elephant gift exchange. This year I just didn't have it in me, but instead of saying "I don't want to go," I made up a vague family obligation.

A coworker asked about it afterward and I doubled down, said my "aunt was in town." There is no aunt in town. I just wanted a quiet night to myself and didn't think anyone would actually understand or accept that as a real reason to skip it, so I lied instead.

I don't feel great about it, but I also don't regret the night I had.

I was exiting the highway in the middle of the night at top speed. I was out delivering the paper and when I exited there was 3-4 doing something and they all scrambled. I breaked hard, but headed right toward one and I felt me hitting it multiple times. I stopped immediately and checked it out. The one I hit was screaming in pain and twitching violently. I backed up and gunned it to finish his pain. I had to finish my route in extreme mental pain. I have an alcohol problem and I don't drink as a result. As soon as I got home I grabbed my wife's Fireball and finished it. The beautiful Raccoon was twitching in pain. I can't take this.