TechyLikesStars
New Member
- Sep 3, 2025
- 3
I know this already sounds stupidly cynical from the title alone but I need to just let my frustrations out. I hate my friends, I think being around them makes me feel lonelier than if I was really alone. For years, they're the only people I've had that manage to tolerate my presence.
But even that word — tolerate — feels like a lie now. It's not tolerance when every interaction is laced with subtle jabs, passive-aggressive comments, or straight-up cruelty disguised as "jokes." They know exactly where to hit, exactly which sore spots to poke. They treat my pain like it's entertaining — like it gives them something to bond over. Like I'm not a person, but just the weakest link in the group, the designated punching bag.
And I stay. God knows why. Maybe because I've convinced myself that this is the best I'll get. That no one else will even pretend to put up with me. Maybe that's what they've made me believe — that their mockery is still some twisted version of love, that their harshness is just how "real friends" act.
But it's not. I'm tired of gaslighting myself into thinking this is normal. It's not. Friends shouldn't make you feel small, or scared to speak, or like every part of you is something to be criticized. They shouldn't use your insecurities as ammunition. They shouldn't act like your boundaries are inconveniences.
They've mocked my depression and suicidal habits for years, treating it like some sick inside joke that somehow gets funnier everytime. They'd laugh and encourage me to keep cutting myself, telling me that by making fun of me for it, I'd eventually feel "humiliated enough" to stop. Bullshit, all it ever did was make me cut myself even more. It reached a point where my friendship with them all felt forced, them forcefully bringing me along with them to hang out after school when I felt too depressed to even leave the house. Every damn time, I'd warn them I felt tired and shitty, and that my presence really wasn't going to contribute anything other than a sad ambience. They'd always dismiss it, tell me I'm being "retarded" or "gay", and then maybe an hour or two later, they'd just yell at me that I'm being too depressed and killing the mood, meanwhile I haven't even said a word.
I could go on for hours, telling all kinds of stories. I haven't always been the best in school, so my odds of getting into my dream college weren't really all that great. I was aware of this, though I guess I still clinged onto some hope. Once I was out with my friends, and I ended up getting the letter back in my email. They insisted they read it for me first, and I was reluctant, knowing I had probably just gotten denied, but by the time they forcefully took my phone from me I figured it wasn't really my decision. They took a look at the email, seemed to blink in silence for a second, and then all cheered my name, telling me that I was in. I couldn't believe it, for even a few seconds, I felt happy for once, proud of myself at my success. I legitimately smiled, taking my phone back excitedly only to realize the letter explained that I was denied. I stared at my phone in disbelief, speechless, while my friends cackled at my reaction. I was quiet for the rest of the evening, much to the frustration of my friends because I was "ruining the mood".
Throughout my adolescent years, I had an immense fear of SA and felt uncomfortable towards sexual imagery in general. I don't feel like getting too much into that, but it bothered me alot because my friends are extremely physical and constantly got into my personal space to touch and prod me. Everywhere. I'm stuck now despising physical touch, constantly flinching whenever anyone around me makes even a slight movement. It's fucking embarrassing. I tried making this clear to my friends, being as serious and direct as possible, almost begging them to physically leave me alone and to stop flaunting their cocks to me. Their behavior got so bad, I could hardly even use the restroom because I couldn't even stand the sight of my own bare body. They told me they understood, and that they'd stop. I had my doubts, but I still somehow had a glimpse of faith in them.
A week or two later, one of my friends called me to come see them all in the student cafeteria. I felt nervous, wondering what they could all possibly want from me specifically. When I got there, they all grinned, telling me they had bought me a gift for my 16th birthday coming up at the end of the month. I immediately felt anxious, figuring it was going to be a sick prank. With how they've treated me for years, I could hardly believe they'd suddenly start treating me nicely. However, as the weeks went by until my birthday, they were surprisingly kind to me. They didn't hit or mock me as often, and I actually felt like I started bonding with them. By the time my birthday came around, I actually looked forward to having them over for the first time. I'm a very lonely guy, I didn't have many friends growing up and they're basically the only people I've ever been able to hang out with. It was my first time having friends over for a birthday, so I felt anxious, but a little excited.
The night came, and the first thing they wanted me to do was open my gift. I smiled, feeling a little anxious as I slowly unwrapped the package and reached a rectangular cardboard box. I couldn't recognize the label on it, a company I wasn't familiar with. I finally opened the box, and there was a plastic bag inside. With curiosity, I slowly pulled it out, only to pull out a large dildo. I immediately felt my heart sink, almost dropping the object when I saw what it was. I almost felt like I was going to have a panic attack, but I wanted to stay cool and composed as to not make a scene on my own birthday. My friends cackled as I sat there pale and speechless, and snatched the object from me as they started playing with it. Eventually, they used the object on me, hitting me with it and trying to "rape" me with it by bringing it to my mouth or rear. By this point, I was already biting my lip, holding back tears and trying to force a laugh as if saying "Haha guys, you really got me!". They then showed me a second gift, saying that they "felt bad about the last one" so they brought me a second one for good measure. If you've read this far, I can imagine you know where this is going, and yet somehow I didn't. This time, this gift was covered in excessive wrapping, it must've had atleast seven layers until I finally reached the center. A tub of anal lube.
By this point, the night really wasn't going that well for me. I had plans for all of us to take a nice walk later in the evening, because I'm quite fond of the peaceful scenery where I live and I thought it could be a nice way for all of us to chat together while enjoying the breeze outside. They felt bored at the idea, but eventually decided to come along. Big fucking mistake. It was late out at night, and they would run in the street, screaming with their pants down as their dicks fucking flinged around. I'm sure that imagery probably sounds atleast a little funny, but it sucked. I live on a very quiet and peaceful street where alot of sweet elderly people reside, and I have a very good reputation on that street as basically the only adolescent that lives there aside from my brother. I kept desperately trying to beg my friends to quiet down, not wanting to wake up any of my neighbors and make them think I'm fucking around with random hoodlums. They scoffed, dismissing my pleas and would only try to rub their fucking dick against me so I'd leave them alone. I rapidly sped up, walking much farther than them and building a good distance so I could get ahold of myself before I spontaneously bursted in tears. Before I could even calm down, I could hear one of my friends' footsteps rapidly speeding up behind me, before he lunged on me and brought me to the ground, his cock rubbing against my back.
By the time we got back to my house, I was exhausted, I just wanted to go to bed and to get the night over with. My friends had different ideas, wanting to stay up and fuck around. Everytime I got close to falling asleep, they'd hit me with the dildo to wake me up. Eventually I gave up, and just quietly went back to my room while my friends stayed downstairs, seemingly not even noticing that I was gone. The next morning, when I went back downstairs, basically all of them were gone, and all that was left was trash and stains everywhere that I had to clean up. My parents were pissed, thinking I was responsible for the mess. Happy fucking 16th birthday to me.
I'm so tired. I'm so incredibly lonely. I'm so miserable, and to them it's just a joke. They never help. All they do is get mad at me and make fun of me for when I'm feeling bad. Sometimes some of my friends get really frustrated, going as far as to encouraging me to just kill myself and get it over with already. I hate when they pretend like they care. They scolded me for getting into weed, saying that I was a junkie and that I should be ashamed for indulging in such a thing. Fuck you. Maybe it's not the best coping mechanism, but I'll take weed anyday over having to fucking listen to them yelling and hitting me.
I've known them since the 7th grade, and now I'm in my first year of college, still stuck with a few of them. They're all I have. I can hardly meet any new people, my friends have turned me into such a timid and insecure person, I can't possibly have the courage to talk to anyone without feeling like a fucking joke. I'm sorry about the length of this post, it's really long and I don't even think I expect anyone to reach this far, but either way I guess I just needed to write this out. Thanks for reading my shitty rant.
But even that word — tolerate — feels like a lie now. It's not tolerance when every interaction is laced with subtle jabs, passive-aggressive comments, or straight-up cruelty disguised as "jokes." They know exactly where to hit, exactly which sore spots to poke. They treat my pain like it's entertaining — like it gives them something to bond over. Like I'm not a person, but just the weakest link in the group, the designated punching bag.
And I stay. God knows why. Maybe because I've convinced myself that this is the best I'll get. That no one else will even pretend to put up with me. Maybe that's what they've made me believe — that their mockery is still some twisted version of love, that their harshness is just how "real friends" act.
But it's not. I'm tired of gaslighting myself into thinking this is normal. It's not. Friends shouldn't make you feel small, or scared to speak, or like every part of you is something to be criticized. They shouldn't use your insecurities as ammunition. They shouldn't act like your boundaries are inconveniences.
They've mocked my depression and suicidal habits for years, treating it like some sick inside joke that somehow gets funnier everytime. They'd laugh and encourage me to keep cutting myself, telling me that by making fun of me for it, I'd eventually feel "humiliated enough" to stop. Bullshit, all it ever did was make me cut myself even more. It reached a point where my friendship with them all felt forced, them forcefully bringing me along with them to hang out after school when I felt too depressed to even leave the house. Every damn time, I'd warn them I felt tired and shitty, and that my presence really wasn't going to contribute anything other than a sad ambience. They'd always dismiss it, tell me I'm being "retarded" or "gay", and then maybe an hour or two later, they'd just yell at me that I'm being too depressed and killing the mood, meanwhile I haven't even said a word.
I could go on for hours, telling all kinds of stories. I haven't always been the best in school, so my odds of getting into my dream college weren't really all that great. I was aware of this, though I guess I still clinged onto some hope. Once I was out with my friends, and I ended up getting the letter back in my email. They insisted they read it for me first, and I was reluctant, knowing I had probably just gotten denied, but by the time they forcefully took my phone from me I figured it wasn't really my decision. They took a look at the email, seemed to blink in silence for a second, and then all cheered my name, telling me that I was in. I couldn't believe it, for even a few seconds, I felt happy for once, proud of myself at my success. I legitimately smiled, taking my phone back excitedly only to realize the letter explained that I was denied. I stared at my phone in disbelief, speechless, while my friends cackled at my reaction. I was quiet for the rest of the evening, much to the frustration of my friends because I was "ruining the mood".
Throughout my adolescent years, I had an immense fear of SA and felt uncomfortable towards sexual imagery in general. I don't feel like getting too much into that, but it bothered me alot because my friends are extremely physical and constantly got into my personal space to touch and prod me. Everywhere. I'm stuck now despising physical touch, constantly flinching whenever anyone around me makes even a slight movement. It's fucking embarrassing. I tried making this clear to my friends, being as serious and direct as possible, almost begging them to physically leave me alone and to stop flaunting their cocks to me. Their behavior got so bad, I could hardly even use the restroom because I couldn't even stand the sight of my own bare body. They told me they understood, and that they'd stop. I had my doubts, but I still somehow had a glimpse of faith in them.
A week or two later, one of my friends called me to come see them all in the student cafeteria. I felt nervous, wondering what they could all possibly want from me specifically. When I got there, they all grinned, telling me they had bought me a gift for my 16th birthday coming up at the end of the month. I immediately felt anxious, figuring it was going to be a sick prank. With how they've treated me for years, I could hardly believe they'd suddenly start treating me nicely. However, as the weeks went by until my birthday, they were surprisingly kind to me. They didn't hit or mock me as often, and I actually felt like I started bonding with them. By the time my birthday came around, I actually looked forward to having them over for the first time. I'm a very lonely guy, I didn't have many friends growing up and they're basically the only people I've ever been able to hang out with. It was my first time having friends over for a birthday, so I felt anxious, but a little excited.
The night came, and the first thing they wanted me to do was open my gift. I smiled, feeling a little anxious as I slowly unwrapped the package and reached a rectangular cardboard box. I couldn't recognize the label on it, a company I wasn't familiar with. I finally opened the box, and there was a plastic bag inside. With curiosity, I slowly pulled it out, only to pull out a large dildo. I immediately felt my heart sink, almost dropping the object when I saw what it was. I almost felt like I was going to have a panic attack, but I wanted to stay cool and composed as to not make a scene on my own birthday. My friends cackled as I sat there pale and speechless, and snatched the object from me as they started playing with it. Eventually, they used the object on me, hitting me with it and trying to "rape" me with it by bringing it to my mouth or rear. By this point, I was already biting my lip, holding back tears and trying to force a laugh as if saying "Haha guys, you really got me!". They then showed me a second gift, saying that they "felt bad about the last one" so they brought me a second one for good measure. If you've read this far, I can imagine you know where this is going, and yet somehow I didn't. This time, this gift was covered in excessive wrapping, it must've had atleast seven layers until I finally reached the center. A tub of anal lube.
By this point, the night really wasn't going that well for me. I had plans for all of us to take a nice walk later in the evening, because I'm quite fond of the peaceful scenery where I live and I thought it could be a nice way for all of us to chat together while enjoying the breeze outside. They felt bored at the idea, but eventually decided to come along. Big fucking mistake. It was late out at night, and they would run in the street, screaming with their pants down as their dicks fucking flinged around. I'm sure that imagery probably sounds atleast a little funny, but it sucked. I live on a very quiet and peaceful street where alot of sweet elderly people reside, and I have a very good reputation on that street as basically the only adolescent that lives there aside from my brother. I kept desperately trying to beg my friends to quiet down, not wanting to wake up any of my neighbors and make them think I'm fucking around with random hoodlums. They scoffed, dismissing my pleas and would only try to rub their fucking dick against me so I'd leave them alone. I rapidly sped up, walking much farther than them and building a good distance so I could get ahold of myself before I spontaneously bursted in tears. Before I could even calm down, I could hear one of my friends' footsteps rapidly speeding up behind me, before he lunged on me and brought me to the ground, his cock rubbing against my back.
By the time we got back to my house, I was exhausted, I just wanted to go to bed and to get the night over with. My friends had different ideas, wanting to stay up and fuck around. Everytime I got close to falling asleep, they'd hit me with the dildo to wake me up. Eventually I gave up, and just quietly went back to my room while my friends stayed downstairs, seemingly not even noticing that I was gone. The next morning, when I went back downstairs, basically all of them were gone, and all that was left was trash and stains everywhere that I had to clean up. My parents were pissed, thinking I was responsible for the mess. Happy fucking 16th birthday to me.
I'm so tired. I'm so incredibly lonely. I'm so miserable, and to them it's just a joke. They never help. All they do is get mad at me and make fun of me for when I'm feeling bad. Sometimes some of my friends get really frustrated, going as far as to encouraging me to just kill myself and get it over with already. I hate when they pretend like they care. They scolded me for getting into weed, saying that I was a junkie and that I should be ashamed for indulging in such a thing. Fuck you. Maybe it's not the best coping mechanism, but I'll take weed anyday over having to fucking listen to them yelling and hitting me.
I've known them since the 7th grade, and now I'm in my first year of college, still stuck with a few of them. They're all I have. I can hardly meet any new people, my friends have turned me into such a timid and insecure person, I can't possibly have the courage to talk to anyone without feeling like a fucking joke. I'm sorry about the length of this post, it's really long and I don't even think I expect anyone to reach this far, but either way I guess I just needed to write this out. Thanks for reading my shitty rant.
