My best friend and his father were in a car accident 5 years ago (we were both 16). His dad was declared dead at the scene and he ended up in a coma for 12 weeks. I spent a lot of time at the hospital and his house and as a result, his mom.
A couple of weeks after the accident, she just broke down completely as she was driving me home from the hospital. She told me she couldn’t be alone that night and begged me to stay with her for a couple of hours. We went back to the house and she poured me a glass of wine. I lost my virginity to her. While my friend’s life was hanging in the balance, his dad just buried, I was fucking his mom.
I had always had a thing for her, I mean, she was my friends hot mom, so I obliged every time she instigated which was a lot. This stopped immediately after he was released from hospital and we avoid each other now.
To put this all in perspective, my wife is very close to her brother… they are fraternal twins and have been inseparable their whole lives. Because of this I have gotten to know my brother in law and his wife quite well.
One night, my brother-in-law was out of town on business so we had his wife over for dinner. My wife got called in to work (she is a Nurse in an ER) and so me and my sister-in-law were sitting at the house along talking and drinking wine by my pool. After a few glasses some horse playing lead to her falling in. While her clothes were in the drier we sat and talked with her in nothing but a towel. I don’t know how it got started since we had gotten pretty drunk but the towel ended up coming off and the next thing I know we were having sex.
I wish we could just pretend it never happened and get on with our lives but unfortunately she got pregnant. Her and her husband had been trying for a while but apparently his equipment hadn’t been up to the task, he had been gone for a week by the time me and her slept together so we are fairly sure it is mine. He was with her when she got morning sickness and made her take a pregnancy test, he is out of his mind excited and has already told everybody. We have somehow kept our cool so far and nobody suspects anything, but sooner or later it will come out. Especially since my wife and her brother are Asian and both me and my sister in law are white. She is now 4 months along and to compound things more my wife is currently 3 months pregnant.
I don’t know what to do, I can’t sleep and every day is torture while I wait for my life to implode around me.
TL:DR I got both my Asian wife and white sister-in-law (my wife’s brother’s wife) pregnant within a month of each other.
I used to beat up on my little brother when we were both younger. We have a decent age gap between us which just made it more pathetic. It was really bad, i’d bruise him or worse. One time I knocked a (baby) tooth out. We would fight all the time – or more accurately, I would snap and lose it over something small he did. I was full of rage, helpless, being tormented in school and I had no idea how to deal with any of it so I took it out on him. Scumbag territory.
After something particularly bad I did, my mum dragged me into a separate room, shut the door and stared at me in disgust. She said, “what the hell are you doing to your brother? He looks up to you, you know”. That hit harder than anything she could have thrashed me with, hands, shoes, sticks, whatever. I felt like someone dropped a pile of bricks on me. Here’s my little brother, looking up to me, and look what i’m doing. I had become my tormentors, but worse. Disgraceful.
I turned it completely around after that. Total 180. Never lost my temper with him again, apologized, and tried to be the best brother possible. We ended up on really good terms, quite close, and he’s the family member I miss the most from back home.
And i’m still really, really sorry for what I did. I apologized to him personally many years ago, he just laughed and shrugged and says it doesn’t matter anymore, but I feel the black mark on me that no amount of apology will ever get rid of. That’s the worst thing I ever did: take out my helplessness on my younger brother.
I still remember that feeling… when the weight of what I had been doing fell on me. That moment when you realize you’ve gone way, way over the line and you’ll never make it up to them.
I accidentally kicked a pregnant girl in the stomach while swimming. She later miscarried.
Whether or not it was due to the kick I will never know, but I will always wonder.
The kick was an overzealous attempt to fend her off in a splash war. I did not know she was pregnant at the time, but the miscarriage did happen pretty much immediately afterward–she got out of the pool because she wasn’t feeling well/was in pain, we didn’t see her for a day or two, then when she reappeared she told me what had happened.
It was about 9 years ago or so, so the details are rather fuzzy now. I seem to recall some of the other girls who were there saying that she bled all over the bathroom floor, but I’m pretty sure they were just trolling in very poor taste.
A number of years ago I was addicted to cocaine. Part of that addiction was selling it in order to support my own habit, which in itself is a pretty bad thing. However, I took it way further than that one weekend.
I had just bought a large amount with the intentions of getting a hotel room at the Local 6 and hustling out of there for the weekend. On my way there, I had a friend in the car with me and he recognized a girl walking and wanted to stop and say hi to her.
I pulled over and they chatted a bit and he asked what she was doing. She told him she was on her way to a local area that was known for crack. I kind of laughed to myself because I KNEW I had the best coke in the area. She asked what all that was about so I asked her if she knew how to cook her own. She did so I told her to hop in, no need for her to go get ripped by a crack dealer, I had the best shit around.
She jumped in and we went on our way. My friend had already told me she was a crack whore and this got my cocaine-fueled insane brain chugging along. When we got to the room I sold her $10 worth and she cooked it up and took the first hit as soon as she could.
I swear her eyes got as big as saucers and she asked if I had enough to keep her going all weekend. I told her as long as she had the money, I could do it. I spent the next two days straight watching her buy a small amount, cook it up, smoke it up, leave and do her business, come back, buy a small amount, cook it up, etc.. etc… I think I made about $2500 off her that weekend while she whored herself out to anyone with $10 or more.
I didn’t do it because I needed to (I could have sold larger amounts to a few of my regular people and accomplished what I needed to in order to get high all weekend for free), I did it because I had never done anything like that before and I wanted to know what it felt like. While it was happening and I was staying high snorting, it was pretty amazing feeling. Looking back on it now I’m disgusted with myself.
I have a friend that used to be heavily involved in meth. He was hanging out with another dealer and some chick had come by and was begging for some. Twacked out of his mind, he told her if she let his pit bull fuck her he would hook her up. So she got down on the floor in the middle of the living room and fucked the guys dog. My friend said that seeing that was what led him to get away from meth all together, and now he’s been clean for 10 years.
It’s amazing what an addict will do for a fix.
When me and my wife first started talking some years back there was this guy that really liked her as well and had for much longer than I had known her.
Fast forward a few weeks and we became a bit closer and he just wouldn’t give it up. I told him over and over to just drop it since we were decent friends at the time and could be light about it. Of course he didn’t, so it became more personal and negative to the point where we almost fought a few times from him running his mouth a little too much.
Now is the time to preface this with a small backstory. He had previously fathered a child with a girl and on a trip to a neighboring town one afternoon, they were in a car accident and killed. He was destroyed by it. Fast forward to when he was at stalker level with my wife, I finally sort of snapped and got ahold of him and told him that there was really no point in living anymore and it seemed to be about time for him to go be with the only people that would ever love him by offing himself.
At the time, it worked wonders in getting him to literally drop all contact with her and I and he eventually left town. He, some time later, found another lady friend and they are married and with children so he ended up ok. I felt no remorse at the time but now I can understand that it was probably one of the most fucked up things I could, and will, ever say.
I ignored my dad for 4 days before he killed himself.
A friend of mine was babysitting his neighbors baby when he was 14 or 15. For some reason, the baby was on the floor and the door rang. He jumped up to get it and didn’t look where he was stepping and stepped, practically jumping on the babies head. It didn’t cry or anything.
Fast forward years later. The child is developmentally challenged. In his defense, they also have a daughter who is older who also has a learning disability. And no, this incident was never revealed to the parents.
I don’t seed any of my torrents.
When I was 6 years old, my buddy and I decided to put a boulder on a seesaw and see if we can make it catapult (we were 6 years old dammit). I was a weak kid and couldn’t get a proper grip on it. I accidentally dropped it and my friend’s hands got caught underneath the boulder on cement ground. He started screaming and I got so scared I just ran away. He stayed like that for a few hours…
I shot a baby deer in the face.
Like seriously, half of its skull flew off. We were chasing down a possum in the vast unknown wilderness at about midnight, you see, pitch-black. It ran across the trail and into a patch of thick forest. The thing is, when it’s that dark, shining a spotlight reveals only an animal’s eyes. So when we saw two yellow dots about 30 yards away, we figured that was it’s hiding spot. Fired a rifle, scored a hit, but when we got closer discovered, to our fucking horror, that it was actually a 2 or 3 week old faun, now wounded. A little deer, fresh in the cradle of life; the very definition of innocence. I ended up having to execute it point-blank, and I still feel terrible about it to this day. I mean really, who wants to be that guy that shot Bambi in the face?
I was climbing a tree with my friend when we were in 1st grade. I was the better tree climber as he was sort of a inside all the time kind of kid. For some reason I thought it would be awesome to pee from the top of the tree. While peeing I thought it would be awesome to pee on him, so I did.
When I was a senior in high school I was asked by a girl to the Senior Prom. I didn’t know her, but I was told she had a crush on me and decided to be brave and ask me. She was very nice, very sweet, but not especially attractive and a bit heavy. She told me that she’d buy the tickets, we could go dutch to dinner, etc, but she thought we’d have a good time. We talked once or twice and I figured I’m single again so why not.
One day before the prom I got asked by my best friend to go on a skiing weekend with his family the weekend of prom. His older brother couldn’t get back from college in time so they wanted me to go with them instead. Free skiing for three days, free cabin, and I got to hang with my best friend and his family. Without thinking I said “SURE!” and promptly called the girl and told her change of plans, sorry, but I was going to go skiing instead.
I told my Mom what happened and I thought for a moment that my Mom was going to kill me. She destroyed me. Just flayed the emotional skin off me for a good hour and then told me exactly what I was going to do. Which included driving down to the girl’s house and grovel for hurting her feelings.
I’ve always been ashamed of that incident, but it did make a lasting mark on me. I never wanted to ever feel that shame again and I think I learned to be a better person afterwards.
I was walking i a big city in an area unfamiliar to me an evening this summer, a few hours before sundown. It was in a residential are, about a 20 minute walk from the city center. There wasnt a whole lot of people on the street and only a little bit of traffic. Now, on to the actual event.
As i walk, a car drives by me and turns in on a street i just passed. The car is going faster than is safe, and i hear a young woman screaming something from the half-open pasanger door. I think “crazy assholes” to myself and keep walking, as did everyone else who was out.
It was only later that night when i thought back on it that i realized something; The woman had screamed “help”.
I was mortified. The fact that neither i nor anyone else on the street did a single thing to help her made me feel sick. As far as i know no one checked up on the situation, no one called the cops, no one did anything. The worst thing is i have no idea what happened to the girl, she could have been victim of a kidnapping for all i know.
I’m sure this isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done, but it sure sticks out there for me.
I pop my knuckles, neck, feet, ankles, and elbows all the time. Specifically, when I pop my elbows, I extend my arm and twist, and then just punch in a random direction.
I was at work. My boss’s wife’s mom was in, helping us do data entry.
We were having some stupid conversation, as I was basically keeping an eye on her. I didn’t even notice I was popping body parts. She didn’t say anything.
She goes on some tangent about some southern saying. I look away. Begin the elbow twist…and then punch her directly in the face.
She had a black eye for a week. She was like 75 years old.
As a kid, I got bullied a lot. Bullies have various weak points that if you can exploit them, can really fuck them up. Of course, in this interim, they can also fuck you up. But I was depressed and suicidal at age 13, so I kind of hoped he’d kill me.
We’ll call him Kyle. Kyle was probably mentally unbalanced. He was a skinny kid who wore half sleeves, had pinhole pupils, and messed up hair. Wiry motherfucker, too. We had a big “Ox” like guy who didn’t mind beating up kids, but wasn’t self-motivated so he usually did so at the bequest of others. Kyle got Ox to wail on me a few times, or he held me down while Kyle or one of Kyle’s toadies wailed on me. I got some pretty bad beatings, and as I was neglected at home, nobody gave a shit. I just learned to heal, avoid them, or hide until they went home.
One day it occurred to me during a beating that Kyle never got me alone. I pointed this out to him. He told me he’d kill me. I said he didn’t have the brains or strength to do it alone. Ox would do it or whatever, because he was weak. Kyle got this look in his eye that let me know I hit my mark. For the next few encounters, I’d say, “I see you with Ox. Does Ox know you won’t fight me alone?” Kyle acted like he didn’t care at first, but I could tell it got to him. Kept telling me to shut up, and “You’re dead if I ever get you alone, punkwalrus!” Even Ox started to lose his spirit, only half beating me with this confused look on his face. “You always do what Kyle asks you to do? You ever thought about beating HIM up?” Ox didn’t have answers for that, but it gave him pause. Soon, Ox stopped hanging around Kyle, and every time I saw Kyle, I’d say, “Alone, Kyle. Alone.” And he got madder and madder. It was unhinging him. He started to look like he was going to fucking kill me. But he was all talk, and I grew confident. Soon, just mouthing, “alone…” to him got him riled up. I’d also give him long stares at lunch time, until he would start screaming at me, and when people looked back at me, I was looking out the window as a nonchalant motherfucker.
As some point, he had been calling me “gay” and “fag.” I finally asked him what that meant, and he didn’t have a decent answer. I told him what it meant (at least as much as I knew in 1982) and said he liked having sex up the butt, and other rather unfair stereotypes about the gay community. Oh, this escalated his rage. I mean, he went from unhinged to hanging by a thread. He started getting a tic in his eye and started pulling at his own arm hair in an OCD reaction.
One day, in science class, he was giving me some lip service because he had a supportive buddy with him. At some point, he started throwing paper wads at me. I looked back at him, mouthed, “Alone…” and blew him a silent kiss that ended with a seductive lip lick.
He didn’t just snap, he turned into some wild animal and launched himself at me, screaming some kind of incoherent shrieking like a kid being crushed in a combine. He managed to get within a foot of me, scrambling over desks and throwing everything aside like an enraged baboon before the teacher gabbed him. He stared screeching and clawing at the teacher’s face. Luckily the teacher was very tall and had better leverage. “It’s okay, Kyle… it’s okay, let’s just go outside in the hallway so you can calm down…” the teacher said, and had to carry Kyle’s skinny ass away like a giant flapping fish. The door closed. We heard more screaming, banging against lockers, and the teacher calling for help. We heard more voices. Some of them were saying, “Oh my god. OH MY GOD!” A teacher came in, pale, and told us all to stay in our seats. She closed the door and witnessed the spectacle from the skinny door window. Once in a while, more incoherent shrieking.
Minutes later, two cop cars and an ambulance drove up. All us kids looked out the window and saw some people cart Kyle away strapped down tightly to a gurney. He was now crying AND wailing, like the tail end of a complete nervous breakdown. He was screaming “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!! KILL KILL DIE DIE DIE FAG DIE KILLL!! FUCK FAGGOT FUCK FUCK FAGGOT DIE SHIT KILL OH MY GOD I WILL KILL YOU!!” but seemed to be shouting at no one in particular. He had screamed so much, he had become hoarse by this point, and it was really alarming.
No one ever brought it up to me because everyone “remembered” Kyle attacked a teacher. I never got asked about it as I was pretty anonymous at the time, and anyone who didn’t know the back story would have thought I was no more a victim than the other kids tossed aside as Kyle made his way towards me.
Never saw Kyle again. Rumor was he was taken to a mental hospital and stayed there for quite some time. No idea what really happened to him, but after that, I realized how badly I had fucked him up and I still feel a lot of remorse.
I took a year between high school and college to study abroad, expand my horizons. I met a lot of awesome people of all ages in my study program. One was a newly-married 25 year old woman (I was 18 at the time). Somehow, she and I discovered that I am naturally a sexually dominant male and she loves to be the submissive in the relationship. I had her blow me almost every day for about 5 months, send me dirty pictures, all without her husbands knowledge.
Was in third or 4th grade. Kid a grade younger than me was picking on me, was a daily occurrence. Everyone on bus hated him. Finally one day I screamed at him “ WELL AT LEAST I HAVE A MOM” His mother had passed away allegedly from aids a year or two before. He cried a lot, and ended up transferring schools. I feel bad about it to this day.
While my uncle was dying in a hospice unit I was jerking off next to him. It was my turn to stay for the night, I was bored and had a laptop with a decent wifi connection and one thing led to another …
After I cleaned up I noticed the room was really quiet and checked his pulse and called the nurse to tell him he had died.
I still feel terrible.
This was about 20 years ago so it’s been a while. I grew up in NY, the school I went to had about 3 white kids, 2 Hispanic and 2300 or so black students. I was one of the white kids. I was a typical inner city child, listened to punk, skateboarded and all that.
I got jumped, a lot. To the point where I eventually left school, but this story is one of the reasons I left. So there were twins at the school, let’s call them Jon and Jontay. They always picked on me. I guess having a mohawk and liking the Dead Kennedys was enough to lump me in with skinheads. So all the white kids at the school were labeled as skinheads (even though none of us were). I was standing in front of my locker getting books and both of them snuck up behind me. I felt a really hard slap on the side of my head where it was shaved and the pain was actually pretty intense. I turned around to fight who ever just hit me only to see those two and about 15 other kids. The principle was standing on the other side of these kids with a smirk on his face. I could do nothing except mutter ‘you’ll get yours, alone’.
It was later on that day when I got my chance. I saw Jon walking towards the stairs, (it was a 3 story school and we were on the top floor). I lost all self control as the anger hit me and I ran at him full speed. I actually jumped and hit him with both feet in his back and the back of his head right as he hit the top of the stairs to go down.
He flew the entire 15 stairs or so and hit his head on the wall. He was completely knocked out. I could faintly hear the screams as I flew down the stairs to him. People were telling me to stop, even though I spent years of getting my ass handed to me by these guys and never being able to fight them one on one. This was my first chance.
I hit the landing where his body was laying and I jumped in the air and landed both feet on his head. That sound is something i will never forget.
From what I understand, he had surgery from that. I ended up in a boys home as well because of it. But to this day I feel incredibly shitty that I ever did this to him. It just goes to show what can happen if you spend so long getting physically abused by people and not having adults who are willing to intervene.
Before you say I am absolutely horrible for this. This happened two years earlier, I was skating home with some friends. We were on the road and who walks out of a store but the twins. They see me and my friends and the first thing Jon (the one I drop-kicked) threw a full Snapple bottle at me. It hit me right in the nose and shattered the bridge of my nose. They actually ran while my friends scrambled to chase them down and see if I was alright at the same time.
My childhood was a mess.
I wouldn’t kill the person I loved. She was a day from the end of her life. Cancer had eaten her liver. She went yellow, her liver couldn’t filter out water anymore so her lower half was swelling up. This meant she couldn’t move her legs, she used to be a ballet dancer.
She had a Hickman Line, a tube that connects to an artery in the chest, its used for putting chemotherapy into the bloodstream. She decided to cut through the tube so that she would bleed to death. She did that, looked at me and said “Why isn’t it working?”. It failed because of blood pressure, if she was lying down it would had worked.
I closed up the end of the tube. I knew she was dying, I knew she going to suffer another day, but I wouldn’t let her die. I even thought “You’d be better off dead” and I was too selfish to let go. She was always brave, and she chose to die on her terms. But I’m coward and I made her suffer because I’m weak.
When we were 10, my best friend and I were always bullied by this kid who lived in our complex. He was one of those sneak bullies too, who acted so lovely around adults but was a holy terror when they weren’t around. So one day after he held my friend down and made him eat dog shit we hatched a plan to put him out of commission. We found a windex bottle and filled it with a bunch of different cleaning agents, one of them being bleach. Then we went looking for him. When we found him, he asked my friend if he was still hungry and wanted some more, and when he came over to us I squirted him right in the face with the bottle… A good few squeezes worth. He ended up going to the hospital with chemical burns and lost all of the sight in one eye and partial sight in the other. He facebooked me a few years back and apologized for how he had treated us and actually thanked me for what we did to him. He said it was a real “eye opener” ( his pun, not mine) and He now works exclusively with blind children and says its incredibly rewarding.
My half-sister (who lived with her father in another state) died of a brain tumor when I was 17 and she was 15. The tumor pressed on her vocal cords, causing her voice to be very high-pitched and breathy.
For the last six months of her life, I refused to speak with her on the phone because her voice reminded me of her (at the time) untreatable cancer and (at the time) inevitable death.
This was in 1987 and I still hate myself for it.
I set one of my black friends up on a blind date with a watermelon.
Once during Little League, my team and I were on the bench, and to pass the boredom, we kept throwing pebbles at the nearby bunnies and squirrels. No one could hit them, and of course when it’s my turn to throw, I threw a decent sized rock and it hit a bunny square in the head. Everyone froze and watched as the bunny was starting to tweak out, and its head/neck was moving in a wonky way. Everyone called me an asshole and said I was fucked up for throwing a rock at a bunny’s head. I felt so bad and I can still remember the poor rabbit’s head being all wonky afterwards.
The worst thing I ever done – I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa – and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.
I was walking down town one night after leaving the bar, around midnightish, and i had to walk a few blocks to my car. (parking is awful in the city on a friday night) Well half way there when there wasn’t anyone around, someone comes up behind me, taps me on the shoulder and tells me to give him my wallet, or “it will be bad” as he had his hand deep in his pocket. I don’t know if he had a gun on him, but all I could think about was getting stabbed or shot, which I REALLY didn’t want want to go through.
So I prompted him, reached for my wallet and grabbed my knife, put my hand in his face and stabbed him in the stomach three times and ran as hard as I could for probably a mile. Never told anyone, never called the cops as it seemed like that would put me in a worse spot. No idea what happened to him.
When I was 16, a bully had threatened to have his 25 year old brother – who supposedly just got out of jail – stab my friend and I because we poured mayonnaise from packets in the hood of his hoodie during lunch. He ended up looking like someone jizzed all over his head when the plan unraveled. We originally did this because he was beating up on of our friends on a daily basis.
Anyway, my friend and I weren’t going to have anybody stab us, so we followed him home the next day. We had masks, knives, lighter fluid, matches, and rope in our backpacks.
We waited around the vicinity of his house and waited for an opening to attack. His parents and brother left, leaving him by himself.
We hopped his back fence and looked for a way in. A bedroom window was open, so we made sure it was clear and got inside. We found him jerking off to some porn, totally dead to the world, so we got right behind him and poured the lighter fluid all over his crotch and held him to the chair with the rope. My buddy started striking matches and dropping them near the kid, telling him that he better call off his brother or he’ll never jerk off again.
The kid breaks down, telling us his brother wasn’t going to do anything because he’s mentally retarded, and that’s why he still lives with their parents.
We felt bad about what we’d done, told him that we were sorry, but if he told anyone we would burn his house down. He stopped bullying our friend and other kids at school, and my friend and I swore never do something so crazy ever again.
Ok here we go. This still torments me to this day. When I was 13 years old my parents took me to buy a hunting sling shot. I also bought a bunch of large metal ball bearings to shoot. My parents kept the real ammo and told me I wasn’t allowed to play with the sling shot when they weren’t home. So 15 minutes after we got home they both left for a few hours. My brother and his friend and I immediately went and took the sling shot out of their room but couldn’t find the ammo.
Our house was built on an old hazelnut farm so there are hazelnut trees around the entire property, and A LOT of squirrels. So we started picking up the nuts that the squirrels dropped out of the trees and started shooting things in the yard. Then, sure enough, this squirrel came down on a really low branch while my brothers friend had a nut ready to shoot. We hadn’t been able to hit A SINGLE target the entire time we were outside. We SUCKED. So as a “joke”, I told my brothers friend to shoot at the squirrel that was 10 feet away. He pulled back and shot the squirrel right in the side of the head.
It fell out of the tree and was paralyzed on the left side of its body but it was kicking with the two feet on the right side and was spinning in a circle making these HORRIBLE shrieking noises… there were blood bubbles exploding out of its nose, mouth, and eye ball all at the same time. It was screaming this shrilling bloody murder noise and it was MY FAULT that it was writhing in horrendous pain. I swear to god I could FEEL the pain it was experiencing! I thought quick and realized that I had to put it out of it’s misery so I grabbed a big branch off the ground and started hitting the squirrel as hard as I possibly could. It wouldn’t die! I was smashing the shit out of that little critter and it took at least 8-10 hits to finally kill it. Once it was dead I dug a hole and buried the little guy and apologized to it over and over, petting it and telling it I was so sorry. I am 31 years old now and after almost 20 years, I still get sick to my stomach every time I think about that…. Fuck I suck.
I grew up very poor with dysfunctional parents in a rural area. My siblings and I often went hungry. As the oldest, I always tried to look after them, but one day I failed hard.
When I was 7 and my little brother was 5, I was playing outside and he appeared with a bologna sandwich that he had somehow scraped together from what he could find in the kitchen. It was just a single piece of meat on two squished pieces of dried bread. No cheese, no condiments, nothing else. When I saw what he had, in a fit of jealousy, I knocked it out of his little fingers onto the ground. He immediately burst into tears and started bending down to pick it up off the ground. Before he could pick it up out of the dirt, the local pack of stereotypical dogs that a poor rural family keeps pushed him over and ate the sandwich. He just lied there on the ground, covered in dust, crying and repeating over and over “I made it to share with you”. I am now 30, and we have a close relationship, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about what I did on that one day out of petty jealousy. I want to apologize, but I really am hoping that he does not , or will not remember it.
I was 11 years old. Asked my grandma who was raising me to buy me an oreo mcflurry from dairy queen while she was running errands. She didnt want to because it was out of her way. I persisted and she continued to say no. 2 hrs later she came back and stopped her car at the end of the driveway and paused for a while, like she was going to backup and do more errands. I came out to see what was up and she rolled the window down and handed me an oreo mcflurry with the biggest smile on her face. I took it and threw it down on the lawn because i was a hyperprick and was pissed that she said no earlier. I remember her smile going to a wtf face after i threw it. She died of cancer a year later. Im 24 now and to this day that is my saddest memory ever. She chose to raise me after she had already brought up her own kids and was the best person ever. Im so sad this is the first thing that come to mind when i think about her. Ps, Im a piece of shit. I miss you Mamam, sorry.
So in 5 grade, I was being picked on by this idiot, Brandon. So I uh… Broke his leg. And a rib. With a rock. Fuck man, he was beating on me, so I mustered up the courage to fight back. I stand up, push back, until I see a rock. This fight would have ended real bad for me, so I had to think fast. I kicked his shin, quickly grabbed the rock, chucked it at his leg and when he fell kicked him hard in the ribs. Punk broke my gameboy, so I broke his leg. His parents were really understanding and didn’t press charges, but simply asked we apologize to each other. My nose was broken and I had a cracked rib too. But shit, even for me that was an awful thing to do. He screamed. Fucking hell he screamed so loud and painfully. But I had to do something… After that I just get bullied but I’m to afraid to fight back now. I’m a big guy, not even just fat. I’m huge for my age. 150 pounds, and while I may be fat, if I lost 15 or so pounds I’d be RIPPED. But any ways, now I’m afraid to fight back because if I do something like that I’d be mortified. I’m still terrified of the way he screamed. And the rock made a massive gash in his leg to. Bleeding… So much blood. Holy shit.
As a kid I used to play on Neopets and collect neopoints by playing hours and hours of those games. As I got older, I felt like I was wasting my time playing these games. My cousin showed me how to scam other users. Basically I would PM other users and say i could get them a “Baby paintbrush” (A RARE item) for their neopet in exchange for their passwords. These little children would fall for it and I would have access to their accounts and transfer their money to a fake account and then transfer it back to my original. These kids spend hours to collect neopoints and id scam them. I stole over 500 000 neopoints.
Shat in a condom and threw it at a truck driving by at around 60 mph. And not just a little shit…this thing filled up a Magnum. I was 14 or so at the time and on the CKY/jackass craze. We loved messing with people and filming it (before you ask the video is long gone.)
To make it worse, I accidentally swallowed a marble the day before and it was visibly in my shit. Might have cracked his windshield…Didn’t stick around long enough to find out. Might not be the worst thing I have ever done, but it was a pretty shitty thing to do
I put a dead ant in my brother’s sandwich. He ate his ant sandwich. I then enlightened him to the extra protein bonus. He was so angry!
I watched a friend try to prank a girl that was passed out drunk at his party. He sprayed sprayfoam in her mouth. The foam expanded into her airway killing her. I didn’t do anything to stop him and to this day don’t really care.
I used to try and get my parents lawn mowed (riding mower) at the same time each week and and the Summer turned into Fall, I would end up finishing their huge lot after the sun had already set. I was just finishing up the last section and heard a loud cracking spitting noise and huge cloud of fluff shot straight out the blower. I dismounted the mower and used my phone light to see that I had ran over a nest of about ten baby bunnies. Literally shredded into a thousand pieces across the lawn into our neighbors fence. I heaved a great sigh and wept a little as I raked up their remains into the fire pit.
I met a close friend in 2006 and we had become really close friends. He didn’t have very many friends, and the ones he did have were only using him because he had good weed. He got picked on a lot in high school, his father was a raging alcoholic, and his mother left when he was 11 and never had contact with her again.
A couple years ago we got into a fight. I don’t really remember the details of the fight. All I remember is that it had to do with a comment he jokingly made about my mom and I took it too close to heart. It ended with me leaving his house at 3 in the morning and screaming “Go fucking kill yourself you worthless piece of shit. No one fucking loves you.”
He kept trying to call me, text me, etc. He left messages on my phone just bawling and saying how sorry he was. I ignored him. After about a week of not talking to him, I get a call from his father saying that he went into his garage and shot himself with his uncle’s .45.
It’s been 2 years since his death and I hate myself so much. It’s all my fault. I could have forgiven him. But I, his only friend, told him he was worthless and left him. I can never and will never forgive myself for that.
I accidentally shot a child while on patrol in Baghdad. We were attacked and the kid was stuck in the middle of the fire. He took shelter in a courtyard, but his fear got the best of him and he tried to run back to his home.
Simply put, he surprised me. I had suspected the fire I was receiving was coming from an alley that was just past the gate where the kid was hiding. I had taken aim in that direction and when he ran I fired, mistaking him for the enemy.
I landed 7 rounds on target leaving the kid little chance for survival. We did take him to a local hospital once the area was safe but if I had to guess the poor kid probably didn’t make it.
I’ve thought about that experience a lot over the past few years, along with other less glamorous parts of my experience overseas. It’s all been kind of strange…