Don’t Mess With Me
My mother’s ex-husband and I had a really volatile relationship. He was mentally and emotionally abusive and my mom was an alcoholic. There was one day when things got extremely bad.
Both my mom and her ex-husband were drinking. All I did was walk in the door and that’s when it all started. I was told I had no friends.
I was told my family didn’t care about me and that if I disappeared it would be a good break because I was disappointed. I was told that they wished I was dead. I kept trying to tell them to leave me alone, but they went too far.
I tried hiding in my room too, but they followed me. I at one point finally became so enraged at them I flipped my bed over. Not just the mattress, I’m talking bedframe and all.
It was because I kept a knife under my bed. I then chased them out with a knife and threatened them. Yeah. That was fun to explain to the authorities.
The kid in the next story just didn’t want to listen to his mom.
Just One Egg
When I was a kid I wanted a hard-boiled egg one afternoon and my mom said no. I asked why and she just said no. I got upset and went to my room.
When she went to take a shower or whatever I had the brilliant idea of making my desired egg treat with speed and stealth. I took a coffee mug, filled it with water, dropped the egg in, and stuck it in the microwave.
I forget how long I set it for, but it was long enough for my mom to come back out to the sound of something cooking in the microwave. She asked me to come to the kitchen, which I shamefully did in defeat.
Just as she begins to ask me what I’m cooking, the microwave starts to beep. On the third beep, there was this very loud but muffled THUMP from the microwave.
The egg had exploded…the cup had exploded…the microwave was ruined. This wouldn’t have been so bad had my family had enough money to replace a microwave and I hadn’t wasted eggs.
The kid in the next story tore up something precious to his mom.
One True Love
Me and my mom had a huge fight and so I tore the one pic from her wedding day of her and my dad. They are divorced, by the way. It happened when I was a baby. She still has feelings for him and she always says that he is her one true love.
There is no other pic of her with him except one. She was so hurt and was crying because I did that. I was a teenager then and out of anger I just did it to spite her.
Later on, I saw she had taped the pic back and she still has it… which made me feel so guilty and felt so ashamed of my actions. So yeah, that was the worst thing ever.
The story is about a girl who thought twice about hurting her friend ever again.
When I was very young, I would occasionally hit someone when I was angry. The very last time this happened was in 6th grade. My best friend and I got into a little fight and I hit her as hard as I could on the arm.
The look on her face is what snapped me back. She looked as if she had never been hit by anyone, ever, and was obviously very hurt both physically and emotionally.
I felt immediate guilt and I swore then and there to never do it again and to be in better control of my emotions. Glad I learned that lesson early.
The next story is about a runaway who had regrets.
Had To Go
I ran away from home. I was 10. I gathered some blankets and snacks then headed to a mountain’s resting place. I rode a bus for two hours then hiked up a mountain to the resting area my dad and I used to enjoy ramen cups on.
There was a generator nearby which kept me warm. I drank water at the springs. Some campers even gave me food since there was a large camping ground a bit lower to the mountain.
After three days, I just went home because I really had to poop. I did not want to poop in the woods.
The next story is about a brother who thought he could leave a mess and not clean up after himself.
Clean Up, Now!
My brother spilled yogurt all over one of the shelves in the fridge and when I told him to wipe it up he said, “If it bothers you, you clean it.”
So I grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved his face into the open fridge and screamed at him to clean it up. This was after years of him being a jerk in general, so it was pent-up rage.
The next story is about someone who got really annoyed with their kid brother.
So, this one, in my opinion, was a total accident. But no one believes me. When my brother was like three or four, he kept rolling this stupid brick around, hitting me with it on the foot and ankles.
He was pretending to be a dog or something. Anyway, I got mad after he did it a couple of times and I grabbed the brick. Since I was mad, I went to throw it down.
I picked it up, turned 90 degrees to the right, and wailed this brick to the ground as hard as my seven-year-old arms would let me.
I didn’t know he was crawling around, because he was still pretending to be a dog, and I cracked him in the head with it. I knew I was in big trouble because my parents didn’t beat me for it. It took like ten stitches on the back of his head to fix it.
The kid in the next story did something that could’ve landed him in jail for life.
Could’ve Turned Out Bad
At summer camp one time, our group of boys was having a wrestling night. It started off fine but eventually, three or four of them decided to turn and wrestle me. I remember them starting to call me names and saying how weak I was.
I eventually stormed out of the teepee made with a tarp. I grabbed the stick I had been sharpening earlier that day. I say stick but it was probably an inch in diameter and three feet long, and I had gotten it really sharp. I jabbed it into the side of the teepee with some significant force.
I remember it being a pretty hard stab. And then I ran a little way into the woods and cried. Luckily, I hadn’t hit anything or anyone, although I found out later that I had come within an inch of one of my friend’s head, who was sitting right up next to the side of the teepee.
This all happened when I was 12. I still go to the same camp nine years later and am now a head counselor. And one of the friends I had invited is now one of the camp directors.
The person in the next story knew how to deal with an online bully.
I was being baited by a couple of people online. One of the girls tragically had lost her parents in the tsunami in Asia back in 2004/2005. Well, she really kept calling me heinous names online and started getting others to do the same.
She told me to say the worst thing I could as I was clearly too thick to think of any rebuttal. But I thought of something really, really horrible.
I told her: “Your parents purposely jumped in the water to end their lives as it’d be less painful than dealing with you.”
Needless to say, when I got into sixth form (UK 16-18 years) the next day, I got suspended pending investigation for three days. The silver lining is that they found evidence she and her friends baited me a lot and frequently bullied me, so they had to apologize to me in writing.
The woman in the next story just couldn’t control her emotions.
I cry when I get angry. This girl at my job ticked me off so badly that I kicked a dent in a freezer door and then embarrassed myself by crying uncontrollably for about 20 minutes.
It has been years since that happened, but if I go visit, I am still embarrassed by that freezer door incident—even though the girl was fired shortly afterward anyway.
The kid in the next story said something no kid should ever say to a parent.
I told my mom I hated her. I was a kid, I absolutely forgive myself for having done it, I’ve had my own kids do the same thing to me when they didn’t get their way. It happens, kids don’t understand.
But I know it hurt my mom and that hurt is still with her today, and I certainly regret it. She did nothing to deserve me saying that.
The teen in the next story took the ultimate revenge against her sister.
My sister was wearing one of my shirts, and I ripped it off of her in front of my friends. At the time I snapped, I could not deal with having absolutely any possession that was solely mine.
There were much bigger issues but that is what I snapped about. I want to crumple up and perish a thousand paper cuts when I remember it.
We’re good now. We have fights, as sisters do, but we are best friends. Not even being an awful person in anger can get in the way of the bond that grows when you survive the stuff we got through.
It is still the worst memory I have though. I wish I understood things then the way I do now, but we were both young teens drowning in hormones.
The kid in the next story would learn that fighting is not the answer to everything.
Time To End This
When I was 12 I was at a church camp with some friends. One of my friends had a messed-up arm like the guy from Scary Movie 2. Another was picking on him, and my friend shoved the tormentor.
The tormentor retaliated by punching him, and I responded by pinning his arms from behind and trying to keep him from hitting my friend, non-violently, like a good little Christian boy.
Then he bit me and I blacked out. I don’t remember any of this, but the other kids told me I was screaming incoherently and had the kid off the ground, up against a wall, by his throat.
Apparently, I was trying to end his life. Luckily I wasn’t a huge kid, so the other boys were able to drag me away.
The guy in the next story really tried to help his dad.
Regrets Come Too Late
My dad was a loving father and I loved him with all my heart. He was like my best friend and there was nothing I couldn’t tell him. But he was an alcoholic.
Sometimes things got really bad and he was a mess and I tried to help him get better. There were also times when he didn’t drink, but at that time he was drinking a lot and had a couple of seizures.
I was so worried about him and stayed at his place almost every night for a year. When I wasn’t there, I always slept with my phone so he could call me if something was wrong.
I was only 19 years old at the time, and one day I was so tired of taking care of him that I said, “Sometimes I wish he was dead so I could start living my own life.”
After I said it, I felt so bad and realized I didn’t mean it. I loved him so much. Only two days later he was found dead at his house. He had a seizure because he had taken alcohol and some pills. That was the worst thing I have ever said and I wish I never said it.
The kid in the next story got pranked and he got some revenge of his own.
Old School Classics
I was in ninth grade and a boy pulled the chair out from under me and I fell on the floor. I picked up the chair and pinned him to the wall screaming at him.
It was before the teacher came in and nobody told on me. I felt out of control but in control at the same time.
The kid in the next story gave his grandmother a piece of their mind.
Please Call Me
When I was three years old I got into a fight with my grandma. Nobody remembers what it was about anymore, but apparently, it ended with me telling her to call me when she dies, so I could come to visit grandad.
She says she never laughed so hard in her life before. Still, I can’t help but feel kind of bad each time she mentions it.
The kid in the next story got really mad about a stolen ice cream.
When my brother and I were kids—I think I was 10 and he was 6–we used to play Yu-Gi-Oh Forbidden Memories on PlayStation.
I discovered a bug by accident that would allow you to duplicate cards, so I did it for our Meteor B Dragons on both memory cards. The next day we had McDonald’s and my McFlurry was missing, and I accused him of eating it.
I was so mad that I took his memory card and got rid of the duplicated dragons, with a nasty little note. He was heartbroken and we later found out it was our mum that ate it. I still feel awful all these years later, but we have a great brother-sister relationship now.
The next story is about a kid who got blamed for something he didn’t even do.
My mom had closed the car door on her own finger. My stepdad immediately started yelling at me and blaming me for it. That was the first time I snapped, I just walked away and started yelling.
I walked into my building punching the life out of the door. Then when my mom said I should apologize for that, I started full-on yelling at her.
He didn’t come around for two weeks, and things were tense between me and my mom. It’s all good now. But that was the worst thing, and I’m not proud of it.
The guy in the next story had a perfect way to get back at his ex-girlfriend.
Back in 2003, a teenage me created a fake AIM name because I suspected my girlfriend was cheating on me. Not only did she flirt with this fake random stranger I created, she confessed to getting with many different guys.
Just bragging about it. Instead of handling this well, I logged into her AIM—I knew her password—and hit on every man she knew and convinced them she liked to do the dirty with dogs.
Word got around and she got kicked out of her church. Definitely the worst angry thing I’ve done.
The guy in the next story was tailgated but he had the last laugh.
Stay In Your Lane
I was heading home from work late at night. I was tired and stressed. I was the only car on the road so I was driving at a slow pace in the appropriate lane while listening to some podcasts.
Some other speeding driver came up and started tailgating me, on the slow lane. I moved to the middle lane, and he followed.
I moved back to the right lane, he followed. The guy was just being a jerk for no reason. Then he floored it past me while bringing the side of his car inches away from mine.
A few minutes later I saw the same guy at a stoplight. I had a large paint can sitting on the floor of my car. I picked up the can. I put it in my lap. I opened it.
I floored through the lights while yelling “SCREW YOU”, spilling paint all over me, my car, and the steering wheel, and hurled the paint can through the guy’s open window.
First, I see this bald guy staring at me with terror in his eyes, then a magnificent white liquid explosion, followed by me laughing as I watch his windshield turn pearly white.
The guy in the next story stopped himself from doing something that would’ve hurt someone.
I was in a very unhealthy (borderline abusive) relationship for two years with a woman who controlled me, isolated me from friends, etc.
We argued constantly, and one night after what felt like weeks of arguing, we were screaming at each other again, while I held a heavy drinking glass with water in it in my hand.
I was overcome with fury, and at that moment I came so, so close to just chucking the glass at the ground to shatter it, or at her to hit her.
I just wanted to let my anger show, or prove a point, something, I don’t know. At the last moment, I stopped myself.
I’ve never hit or thrown anything during a fight, but that was my watershed moment because I knew if I did I could never take it back, could never un-shatter the glass or un-hurt her. We ended the relationship shortly after, but I try to keep that moment in mind in general.
Words can’t be unsaid and glass can’t be unshattered. No anger is worth that much hurt.
The woman in the next story just needed to get rid of all the pent-up anger.
Dump Your Anger
I just beat the life out of a public trashcan this morning because I’d had a horrible night. The guy I was talking to decided to tell me he had a girlfriend.
My car broke down, so I had to ride my severely messed up bike to my babysitting job. I saw the guy I was talking to driving while I was sweaty and irritated from the bike ride.
Then it got worse. My bike chain broke off. It was the last straw. I threw it into a huge dumpster and then proceeded to kick, punch and scream at a helpless public dumpster.
The men in the next story learned to not get handsy with their friend.
I was helping two guy friends fix a transmission. One of them thought it would be funny to grab my breasts with his hands, leaving big oily handprints. I was ticked and ran after him, but he wasn’t taking it seriously, laughing as he skipped away.
I saw red, picked up a huge wrench, and chucked it at him. I saw it fly end over end and then hit his head in slow motion, but he dropped in fast forward.
I just ran to get someone else; I knew he needed medical attention. He got four or five staples in his head. He should’ve gotten stitches, but was afraid of needles.
He also has a crazy scar. Funny thing is, he won’t talk about it because he got “beat by a girl.” Freaking ridiculous. The boys in the group stopped messing with me as much as they used to after that.
But I could’ve seriously hurt him, or even ended his life. It was a bad move.
The kid in the next story really regretted his actions toward his mom.
Don’t Raise Your Hands
When I was six or seven I raised my fist to hit my mom. But I stopped. After that day I was never violent again, no matter how bad my fights got with my brother or what he’d do to me.
Later in life, I thought back on it and realized that the behavior probably came from my dad because he used to beat her. Ever since I had that realization, I’ve been even more determined to be a pacifist.
I practiced karate and aikido until I was about 14 but that was about as violent as I got since then.
The guy in the next story had to step in and take control of a bad situation.
Be The Adult
On my 21st birthday, I had to work. No problem, I worked at a bar. I figured I’d get off and have a drink or two to celebrate. My dad and uncle show up already hammered.
I love my dad and uncle, but they have issues with alcohol. I drink maybe half a beer because I’m so embarrassed by my dad and uncle at my job and suggest we leave.
My dad decides he is going to drive and I think, “Huh, not a great idea but he’s the adult.” He nearly crashes twice until he stops at a gas station for more beer. I get into the driver’s seat angry because I don’t want him to drive.
We get home and I scream at him, “Get your miserable life together. You’re hammered drunk and just tried to drive with your freaking kid in the car. Come on, figure it out.”
I saw the hurt but I think he needed it. He still has issues with alcohol but I can’t figure out how to help him. Ultimately, it’s his choice to get help but it hurts to watch him drink himself to oblivion.
The person in the next story regretted the words he said to his mom.
I said this to my mom, in reference to my dad, whom I have had many struggles with: “Respect is earned, not owed. Didn’t he learn this lesson with his first son?”
My dad was previously married and he has lots of regrets in regard to not having contact with his son from that marriage. I feel as though I have somehow put a terrible burden on my mom by saying that.
The kid in the next story got so annoyed with his friend, that he taught him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
When I was in middle school, I had a friend that liked to pretend they had amnesia. It annoyed me to no end and they did it ALL THE TIME.
Not only that, but they were a pretty terrible actor so it was always obvious they were faking. I rode the bus with them because despite what I might have led you to believe, they were actually one of my best friends.
I greeted them and sat down on the aisle side. They were trying to ask me basic things about their life that they obviously knew already and I got so fed up that I grabbed them by the hair and slammed their head into the side of the bus as hard as I could.
They never “had amnesia” again, but I still feel bad about that.
The guy in the next story wished he had listened to his dad.
Listen To Dad
I yelled at my dad to screw off and stop criticizing my girlfriend because one day she might be my wife. I was 23 at the time. She dumped me a year later.
A month after she dumped me, she began dating her neighbor. Right next door. Three months after she dumped me, they married. Five months after she dumped me, they had a little girl.
You don’t know how much I regret what I said to my father.
The girl in the next story almost caused someone to go to the hospital because of her jealousy.
Back when I was 12, I wanted to watch a documentary I had recorded onto a VHS tape. My sister wanted to watch something else. We had an argument and ran to our parents in the basement.
My dad, who always took my sister’s side, said she could watch her show. Angered, I threw the tape onto the ground, shattering it.
A small piece of it hit my dad in the neck (didn’t penetrate anything) and I ran upstairs to my room. He later went off on me and told me that could have severed a vein in his neck and ended his life.
The guy in the next story just needed to take a deep breath.
Tax Punch Up
I ended up getting exceptionally disappointed and angry when I got the tax bill last year. It was a ridiculous amount that will take a long time to pay off.
It’s the second time this has happened. Anyway, I punched a cabinet a couple of times with a stifled shout.
I lived in an apartment with neighbors connected. I didn’t break anything, fortunately, save for the skin on my knuckles. Sadly, it would’ve just cost me more.
Disclaimer: In order to protect the privacy of those depicted, some names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.