Any “god” that cares about who loves who isn’t a god. It’s just an ignorant human.Gods punishing u
But Allan does.Allah does not love
Trigger harming: mental health hospitalIts a good chunk into 2025, so I wanted to check in with you OP - have things gotten atleast a little bit better?
I know the situation felt grim in 2024, so hopefully things are better now.
Ops I meant I live with my aunt* not workTrigger harming: mental health hospital
Wow I’m back everyone and I read everyone’s comments and those who defended jme if someone said anything nasty. So much has changed. I basically came out to everyone cos people already knew. Those who were cruel to me clearly exit my life. I now live work my aunty - moms older sister - cos she didn’t like how my parents were treating me. Unfortunately I was in hospital last month due to mental health reasons cos my parents didn’t give me the emotional support I needed and essentially encourage me to hurt myself. But because of the hospital incident I am enrolled in a rehab facility and also lgbt program to make friends. Therapy has been helping and I work at queer youth centre partime. These activities give me motivation and a sense of self to live and figure out what my dreams are. And that I just really needed emotionally support from a care giver that actually cared, for my case it was my aunty
Yes Russian catfish. lol.being a lesbian ruined my life too, believe it ✌🏼
That's a great turn around in such a short space of time, and by the sounds of everything you're well on your road to becoming a much happier you. Just don't let anyone ever drag you back the other way, people's bad energy is worth nothing and they have to sleep with their consciences. That's a them problem. Your peace, sanity and happiness are worth everything.Trigger harming: mental health hospital
Wow I’m back everyone and I read everyone’s comments and those who defended me if someone said anything nasty. So much has changed. I basically came out to everyone cos people already knew. Those who were cruel to me clearly exit my life. I now live work my aunty - moms older sister - cos she didn’t like how my parents were treating me. Unfortunately I was in hospital last month due to mental health reasons cos my parents didn’t give me the emotional support I needed and essentially encourage me to hurt myself. But because of the hospital incident I am enrolled in a rehab facility and also lgbt program to make friends. Therapy has been helping and I work at queer youth centre partime. These activities give me motivation and a sense of self to live and figure out what my dreams are. And that I just really needed emotionally support from a care giver that actually cared, for my case it was my aunty.
Once, I was in the same place. Wondering why I was different. It took me a while to figure it out but I met someone I could talk to and she would become my first girlfriend. Anyway, being deaf, I was a target at school; picked on, bullied. Then when people found out I was a lesbian, it got worse... a lot worse. It took time but I finally met someone who loves me the way I am and as hard as it may seem to believe right now, you will become happy with who you are, you will find that people will accept you for who you are and you will find that special someone, and you will be happy. Just trust in whatever faith you may have, believe in yourself, stay true to yourself, and the good things will happen.Trigger Warning: mental health struggles
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will the tears to stop, but they had a mind of their own. They came like clockwork these days, soaking my pillow, blurring my vision, and leaving my face sticky with salt. The weight on my chest felt permanent now, like it had grown roots in my ribcage.
I was exhausted—not just physically, though that was part of it. I hadn’t slept in days. It was the kind of exhaustion that digs into your soul, the kind that whispers, “Why bother getting up tomorrow?”
I had always known I was different. It wasn’t a dramatic realization, just a quiet truth that took shape as I grew up. In middle school, while my friends gushed about boys, I found myself stealing glances at girls. But it wasn’t until high school that I had the words to describe it: I liked girls.
The first time I said it aloud, it was barely above a whisper, just a test to see how it felt in my mouth. “I’m a lesbian.” It felt both freeing and terrifying, like stepping onto a shaky bridge over a canyon. I didn’t want to believe it, because I knew what it meant. I’d heard the jokes, the slurs, the sermons at church that painted people like me as broken.
I tried to deny it at first, to stuff it down, to date boys even though it felt wrong. But the truth has a way of clawing its way to the surface, no matter how much you try to bury it.
When I came out to my parents, I expected them to be surprised. I even braced myself for anger. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the silence. My mom just stared at me, her face unreadable, before muttering, “I don’t know what I did wrong.” My dad didn’t say anything at all—he just left the room.
The days after that were unbearable. They didn’t yell or disown me outright, but they stopped looking me in the eye. Conversations became clipped, as if I was a guest overstaying my welcome. I could feel their disappointment like a heavy fog that hung in every corner of the house
At school, things weren’t much better. I hadn’t even meant to come out there, but rumors have wings, and soon everyone knew. Some girls avoided me like I was contagious. Others whispered behind my back or left cruel notes in my locker. “Dyke.” One time, someone scrawled “Burn in hell” across my notebook.
I’d always been good at pretending. Pretending I didn’t hear the whispers, pretending I didn’t notice my mom flinching when I mentioned liking a girl, pretending I was fine. But the mask was cracking, and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it together.
The worst part wasn’t the bullying or the rejection, though those were hard enough. It was the loneliness. The feeling that no matter how much I tried to
Once, I was in the same place. Wondering why I was different. It took me a while to figure it out but I met someone I could talk to and she would become my first girlfriend. Anyway, being deaf, I was a target at school; picked on, bullied. Then when people found out I was a lesbian, it got worse... a lot worse. It took time but I finally met someone who loves me the way I am and as hard as it may seem to believe right now, you will become happy with who you are, you will find that people will accept you for who you are and you will find that special someone, and you will be happy. Just trust in whatever faith you may have, believe in yourself, stay true to yourself, and the good things will happen.
And don't forget
Spread the Laughter! 🤣
Are you saying she’s a catfish?Yes Russian catfish. lol.
I guess we won't be seeing you around anymore.
Damn tho how'd you find such a gorgeous Russian to show to the forums.
Apologies for the derailment
@lux.soap
Hope it all works out for ya luv.
Who is it?Are you saying she’s a catfish?
Lol, I heard rumours she got exposed in General Chat, but I don’t know what to believe.Who is it?
SHE'S A RUSSIAN SPY I TELL YA!Lol, I heard rumours she got exposed in General Chat, but I don’t know what to believe.
She is.No wonder this place is falling apart. First Luka and Soup being banned and now Babydolla exposed as a catfish (I don’t think she is, but w.e.)
I'm sorry you went through this, I was bullied too when I first came out, especially when I identified as bisexual, I was told I couldn't make up my mind even though I just wanted to try both, but soon realised men didn't do it for me and came out fully lesbian. After a while I told people to shove their opinions about me because nobody really knows me and has no right to judge, same as they have no right to judge you xxTrigger Warning: mental health struggles
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will the tears to stop, but they had a mind of their own. They came like clockwork these days, soaking my pillow, blurring my vision, and leaving my face sticky with salt. The weight on my chest felt permanent now, like it had grown roots in my ribcage.
I was exhausted—not just physically, though that was part of it. I hadn’t slept in days. It was the kind of exhaustion that digs into your soul, the kind that whispers, “Why bother getting up tomorrow?”
I had always known I was different. It wasn’t a dramatic realization, just a quiet truth that took shape as I grew up. In middle school, while my friends gushed about boys, I found myself stealing glances at girls. But it wasn’t until high school that I had the words to describe it: I liked girls.
The first time I said it aloud, it was barely above a whisper, just a test to see how it felt in my mouth. “I’m a lesbian.” It felt both freeing and terrifying, like stepping onto a shaky bridge over a canyon. I didn’t want to believe it, because I knew what it meant. I’d heard the jokes, the slurs, the sermons at church that painted people like me as broken.
I tried to deny it at first, to stuff it down, to date boys even though it felt wrong. But the truth has a way of clawing its way to the surface, no matter how much you try to bury it.
When I came out to my parents, I expected them to be surprised. I even braced myself for anger. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the silence. My mom just stared at me, her face unreadable, before muttering, “I don’t know what I did wrong.” My dad didn’t say anything at all—he just left the room.
The days after that were unbearable. They didn’t yell or disown me outright, but they stopped looking me in the eye. Conversations became clipped, as if I was a guest overstaying my welcome. I could feel their disappointment like a heavy fog that hung in every corner of the house
At school, things weren’t much better. I hadn’t even meant to come out there, but rumors have wings, and soon everyone knew. Some girls avoided me like I was contagious. Others whispered behind my back or left cruel notes in my locker. “Dyke.” One time, someone scrawled “Burn in hell” across my notebook.
I’d always been good at pretending. Pretending I didn’t hear the whispers, pretending I didn’t notice my mom flinching when I mentioned liking a girl, pretending I was fine. But the mask was cracking, and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it together.
The worst part wasn’t the bullying or the rejection, though those were hard enough. It was the loneliness. The feeling that no matter how much I tried to