My Personal Experience With Teenage Pregnancy at 19 Years Old

May 4, 2025May 4, 2025 by Mohit

Teenage pregnancy has completely changed my life. I’m a 19-year-old girl who finished Matric Two in 2023, and instead of planning for my future, I’m facing the emotional pain and pressure that comes with an unexpected teenage pregnancy. I never thought I would feel so lost, broken, and alone at this age.

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Teenage Pregnancy and Relationship Struggles

How Teenage Pregnancy Exposed the Truth About My Boyfriend

Being in a toxic relationship during teenage pregnancy is one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. My 21-year-old boyfriend constantly argues with me and still chases after his ex, making me feel unwanted and insecure. This emotional abuse during teenage pregnancy has made me feel depressed and hopeless, even though I’m carrying his child.

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Teenage Pregnancy and Rejection

The Night I Was Left Alone During My Teenage Pregnancy

One night, during my teenage pregnancy, I confronted my boyfriend about cheating. He got angry and kicked me out of his house in the dark, knowing I had no one to turn to. He had a car but refused to take me home. That night proved how little he cared about me or my teenage pregnancy, especially when I saw him giving something to his ex just 30 minutes later.

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Teenage Pregnancy and Verbal Abuse

How My Teenage Pregnancy Turned Into a Nightmare

I’ve heard some of the harshest words during this teenage pregnancy. My boyfriend blames me for ruining his life, saying I changed everything for the worse. He even threatened to expose me publicly if I consider abortion. These threats have only worsened my mental health and increased the emotional pressure of going through teenage pregnancy alone.

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Teenage Pregnancy and Plea for Support

I’m Asking for Help and Understanding During My Teenage Pregnancy

I’m not asking for judgment—I’m asking for advice and compassion. My teenage pregnancy has brought pain, but also a cry for guidance. To Bagolo baka, my elders, please help me understand what to do. I know I’ve made mistakes, but my heart is heavy, and I’m scared. All I want is to survive this teenage pregnancy with hope, dignity, and a future for myself and my baby.

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Psychotic Wife: When Dreams Turn into Obsession

March 8, 2025March 8, 2025 by Mohit

A woman spirals into paranoia as recurring dreams convince her that her perfect husband is hiding something. Despite no evidence, doubt consumes her. Is it intuition or madness? A gripping tale of trust, obsession, and the fine line between love and insanity.

A Perfect Marriage… or So I Thought

I’ve been married for seven years. My husband is a wonderful man—kind, loving, and attentive. We rarely fight, and our life together is stable. He treats me well, supports me, and satisfies me in every way. I have no real complaints. Yet, for the past two weeks, something has been eating away at me.

Every night, I have the same dream. In it, my husband is cheating on me. Sometimes, I see him whispering to a woman whose face I can’t recognize. Other times, I catch glimpses of messages he quickly deletes. The details change, but the feeling remains—betrayal.

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Dismissing the Fear—Or Trying To

At first, I ignored it. Dreams are just dreams, right? But then it happened again. And again. And again. Every night, my subconscious showed me something my conscious mind refused to believe.

I finally told my husband. I expected him to comfort me, to reassure me. Instead, he laughed. Not in a cruel way, but as if I had told him a silly joke. He kissed my forehead and said, “You think too much.”

That should have been enough. But it wasn’t. The dreams didn’t stop. Worse, I started having a gut feeling that something was off. But how could that be? He was still the same. Still nice. Still attentive.

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The Temptation to Know the Truth

I tried to shake it off, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. The idea of him hiding something—anything—became an obsession. I had to know.

One evening, while he was in the shower, I grabbed his phone. My hands were shaking as I unlocked it. I checked his WhatsApp. Nothing. Facebook? Just regular conversations with friends and family. Call logs? Normal.

It made no sense. No secret chats. No deleted messages. No calls that seemed out of place. I should have felt relieved, but I didn’t. If anything, it made me more paranoid.

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Could He Be Smarter Than I Thought?

What if he deleted the chats? What if he used an app I didn’t know about? Could he have another phone? A burner number? Maybe he was cheating in a way I hadn’t even thought of yet.

I looked at myself in the mirror and hated what I saw. I was becoming someone I never wanted to be—a psychotic wife, obsessed with proving a crime that might not even exist.

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Why Won’t the Thoughts Stop?

I keep asking myself: If my husband has given me no reason to doubt him, why am I so convinced? Why do I keep dreaming about it? Why do I feel like something is wrong when everything seems so right?

Is it my intuition screaming at me to wake up? Or am I losing my mind?

I don’t know anymore. But I do know one thing—I can’t stop.

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The Hidden Truth About Workplace Power and Attraction

March 8, 2025March 8, 2025 by Mohit

Workplace power dynamics can shape careers and personal lives in unexpected ways. This is a story of self-discovery, ambition, and the blurred lines between authority and attraction.

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A New Beginning in a High-Stakes Corporate World

When I first joined my company, I was just another full-time employee trying to make a name for myself. My boss was different—intimidating, demanding, and nearly impossible to impress. Standing at six feet tall with a dominating presence, he had a reputation for being ruthless. At first, I struggled under his leadership, failing to meet his high expectations. He had no patience for mistakes, and I quickly realized that surviving in this corporate world meant adapting fast.

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The Business Trip That Changed Everything

Then came the trip to Agra. It was a mandatory corporate outing, planned around a high-profile conference. The entire team was expected to attend meetings and then visit the Taj Mahal the next day. While my colleagues were eager for sightseeing, I chose to stay back at the hotel, preferring solitude over socializing.

As I sat in my room, lost in my thoughts, there was a knock on the door. It was him—my boss. He wanted company. I let him in without thinking much of it. He sat on my bed, watching TV, while I scrolled through my phone. Then, unexpectedly, I felt his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. Before I could process what was happening, his lips were on mine.

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The Moment of Realization

It was confusing. My mind raced, but deep down, something clicked. I realized something about myself that I had never acknowledged before—I was drawn to men. And I was undeniably attracted to him.

From that day forward, everything changed. My work life became effortless. Deadlines, difficult assignments, and harsh criticism disappeared. My mistakes were overlooked, and I was shielded from office politics. But there was a price to pay. Every weekend, I found myself at his home, giving him exactly what he wanted.

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Love or Manipulation? The Fine Line Between Power and Emotion

Many would call it an arrangement. Others would say I was being used. But for me, it was more than that. I wasn’t just fulfilling his desires—I was falling for him. I started dressing up, making sure I looked perfect for him. I wanted him to want me just as much as I wanted him.

I know what people would say. That this was wrong. That I had let my career dictate my personal life. But the truth is, I have never felt more sure of anything. He may hold the power in the office, but in my heart, I am the one who chose this path.

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The Reality of Workplace Power Dynamics

For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. And that, to me, is worth everything.

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Trapped in a Toxic Marriage: Living with an Insecure Husband

March 2, 2025March 2, 2025 by Mohit

Trapped in a toxic marriage with an insecure husband, I feel suffocated by jealousy, accusations, and control. My life is a constant battle for peace, love, and freedom. Will I ever escape?

The Weight of Insecurity in Marriage

I have been married for three years. Before that, I was in a relationship with my husband for another three. Six years together, and yet, I feel lonelier than I ever have. We both work in different Public Sector Undertakings (PSUs), which should have been a blessing—financial stability, independent careers, a well-structured life. But nothing could prepare me for the slow, suffocating nightmare of living with an insecure husband.

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The Emotional Toll of an Insecure Husband

At first, his jealousy seemed like love. A possessiveness masked as concern. But over time, it grew into something much darker. Whenever we talk, if I so much as mention a male colleague, he assumes there’s something going on. A simple conversation about work turns into an interrogation. He doesn’t ask questions—he makes accusations. I try to explain, to defend myself, but it’s pointless. If I remain calm, he says I’m being evasive. If I get upset, he calls me defensive and says I’m fumbling, which, according to him, confirms my guilt. There is no winning.

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The Isolation Caused by a Toxic Marriage

Slowly, I stopped talking about work. Then, I stopped mentioning anything at all about my day. I became a shell of myself, afraid of every word, every reaction. As an introvert, I never had an active social life, but now, I don’t even step out after office hours. I avoid colleagues, avoid gatherings, avoid anything that might set him off. If I go shopping after work and don’t return exactly when he expects, the interrogation begins again. “Where were you?” “Why did it take so long?” If I try to explain, it only makes things worse. My voice trembles, and he pounces on it like a predator. “Why are you nervous? What are you hiding?”

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The Breaking Point of an Insecure Husband’s Control

I have cried for hours, staring at the wall, feeling trapped. There have been entire days where I didn’t eat, didn’t move, just lay there—empty. I have lost my feelings for him. I don’t love him anymore. How could I? Every moment with him is a test I can never pass. The worst part? He knows it. He knows I am miserable. And he doesn’t care. Divorce? He scoffs at the thought. He will never let me go, not without a fight, not without dragging me through hell. He has made it clear—there will be no money, no alimony. If I leave, I leave with nothing.

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Escaping the Toxic Marriage and Finding Peace

I don’t want wealth, I don’t want a lavish life—I just want peace. But peace is impossible when you are shackled to a man who thrives on control. A man whose insecurities have poisoned every inch of your existence. A man who claims to love you but destroys you piece by piece.

I know now—happiness in marriage was never meant for me. Love, partnership, trust—these were never my destiny. But freedom? Maybe. If I can find a way. If I can summon the strength. If I can escape before this life consumes me entirely.

How do you leave when the door is locked, but the key is in your own hands—too afraid to turn it, too afraid of what lies beyond?

Also read: The Weight of Grief: Living Without a Will to Live

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The Black Magic Rumor That Changed My Life

February 16, 2025February 16, 2025 by Mohit

A bizarre misunderstanding turns my life upside down when my roommate falsely accuses me of practicing black magic. What started as an innocent accident spirals into a damaging black magic rumor that spreads through my PG and college, affecting my reputation. Can I fight back, or is superstition more powerful than logic? Read my story to find out.

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A Normal Day Turns into a Nightmare

Living in a PG in Bengaluru is an experience in itself. You share a tiny space with a stranger, learn to adjust to their habits, and hope for a peaceful coexistence. But sometimes, things spiral out of control in the most absurd ways.

My roommate is a B.Tech third-year student from the same college as mine. We were never particularly close, but we coexisted without issues—until one incident changed everything. One evening, while cutting vegetables, I accidentally sliced my palm. The knife was sharper than I had expected, and blood spilled onto the floor. I grabbed a cloth, did some quick dressing, and started cleaning up the mess.

Just as I was wiping the floor, my roommate walked in. Her face turned pale as if she had just witnessed a murder scene. I had no idea why she was so horrified. Maybe it was the sight of blood, or maybe she had watched too many horror movies. I shrugged it off and went about my business.

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When Superstition Takes Over

Now, here’s something else about me—I suffer from extreme hair fall. Every day, I find strands of my hair on my bed, pillow, clothes, and even the floor. It’s frustrating, but I have learned to deal with it. Every night, I gather the fallen strands and throw them in the dustbin.

One night, I was feeling particularly lazy. Instead of walking all the way to the dustbin, I wrapped the collected hair strands in a chocolate wrapper and put it aside, planning to dispose of it later. Unfortunately, or maybe coincidentally, my roommate found that wrapper before I could throw it away.

She opened it.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

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The Absurd Accusation

She didn’t ask me why I had wrapped my hair in a chocolate wrapper. She didn’t give me a chance to explain. Instead, she jumped straight to the most ridiculous conclusion possible—black magic.

The next thing I knew, she had told people in our PG that I practice some dark occult ritual. At first, I laughed. How could anyone actually believe something so absurd? But the more I laughed, the more I realized—it wasn’t a joke to them.

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The Social Fallout

Within days, my PG-mates started acting differently. Some of them maintained an obvious distance. Others whispered when I walked past. Apparently, my roommate had done such a convincing job that most of them genuinely believed I was involved in black magic.

And the worst part? If she spreads this rumor in college, it won’t take long for everyone to believe it. Things like this spread faster than the truth. My reputation could be destroyed over something so idiotic.

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The Only Thing I Can Do

At this point, I don’t even know how to react. I could fight back, try to reason with them, try to prove I am not some dark sorceress. But let’s be honest—once people believe in a superstition, logic doesn’t matter.

So, I do the only thing that makes sense.

I laugh.

Because honestly, what else can I do?

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A Decade of Desires: My Struggle with Porn Addiction and Unconventional Fantasies

February 16, 2025February 16, 2025 by Mohit

Explore the raw and controversial journey of a man battling a decade-long porn addiction, unconventional fantasies, and self-acceptance. Dive deep into his struggles, desires, and the toll of porn addiction on his life.

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The Beginning of My Porn Addiction Journey

It all started innocently enough. I was curious, like any other teenager, but what began as a fleeting exploration turned into a decade-long obsession with porn addiction. For ten years, I’ve been trapped in a cycle of watching porn and masturbating, unable to break free. It’s not just a habit; it’s a part of who I am now. I’ve spent countless hours indulging in fantasies that most people would find shocking, even disturbing. But who are they to judge? My desires are my own, and I’ve come to accept them, no matter how unconventional they may be.

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The Fantasy That Consumes Me

One particular fantasy has taken root in my mind, and it’s something I can’t escape. The thought of my future spouse getting pregnant by another man turns me on in ways I can’t fully explain. It’s not just about the act itself; it’s the humiliation, the powerlessness, the sheer taboo of it all. I’ve spent hours masturbating to this idea, imagining every detail, every emotion. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s who I am. And honestly, I don’t care if it makes me sound narcissistic or twisted. This is my reality, and I’ve embraced it.

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The Physical Toll of My Porn Addiction

Over the years, my porn addiction has taken a toll on my body. My penis has become smaller, and when it’s erect, it looks almost childlike. It’s embarrassing, sure, but it’s also a constant reminder of the life I’ve chosen. I’ve never had a girlfriend, and women don’t seem to like me. Maybe it’s because of my appearance, or maybe it’s because they can sense the darkness inside me. Either way, I’ve accepted that I’m not meant for a conventional relationship.

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Questioning God’s Plan for My Porn Addiction

Sometimes, I wonder why God let this happen to me. Did He know that I wasn’t meant to have a normal sex life? Did He decide that I was only meant to watch others enjoy what I can’t? It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but maybe it’s true. Maybe I don’t deserve to have sex. Maybe my purpose is to live vicariously through others, to find pleasure in their pleasure, even if it means sacrificing my own happiness.

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The Future I Can’t Escape

There’s no going back now. I’ve crossed a point of no return, and I’ve accepted that. The strongest survive, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m the weakest. My only hope for the future is that, if I ever do get married, my spouse will fulfill my ultimate fantasy. I want her to get impregnated by another man, to live out the humiliation and desire that I’ve been obsessing over for years. It’s a twisted dream, but it’s mine.

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Living in My Fantasy World

In the end, I’ve created a world where my porn addiction and unconventional fantasies are the center of my existence. I don’t need anyone’s approval or understanding. This is who I am, and I’ve made peace with it. Whether it’s narcissistic or self-destructive, it’s my reality. And in a strange way, I’ve found a perverse kind of happiness in it.

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Falling in Love in Three Days – A Reality Check

February 15, 2025February 15, 2025 by Mohit

Falling in love in three days sounds like a dream—or a red flag. My experience with a girl on a matrimony app made me question everything. Was it love, delusion, or just a test of patience?

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A Match Made in a Matrimony App?

I met her on a matrimony app. She was 26, cute, and chubby—not fat, just the right kind of soft. We started talking, and before I knew it, we had chatted for three hours straight. She asked about me, and I answered everything honestly. I told her she could ask whatever she wanted, and she did—continuing the conversation the next day too.

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Love at First Text?

By the third day, she said something that threw me off. She told me she was falling for me. No, actually—she said she was in love. Falling in love in three days? That made no sense. I mean, I know I’m a good guy, but love in three days? No mature person would do that. But she seemed convinced.

She told me she had no past. That she had saved herself for her future husband. She wouldn’t even put her pictures on Jeevansathi. After I requested, she uploaded three, but then I noticed she removed them again. When I asked why, she said she only wanted her future husband to see her pictures. Weird. Even weirder.

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Something Didn’t Add Up

We talked about a lot of things—some of it totally unnecessary. She told me she had been living away from her family for a year. That two of her three roommates were “b****es” who spent nights in their boyfriends’ rooms. And that she never did. She swore she was different. But how? How does someone stay so pure in that kind of company? It didn’t add up. And falling in love in three days still felt like a joke.

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No Phone Number, But In Love?

I told her exactly that—it was hard to believe. She got hurt. Said she was serious about me. But if she really was, why wouldn’t she even share her phone number?

What kind of love is it when you don’t trust the person you love with your phone number?

I made it clear—I was here for marriage, not for playing around. If we wanted to take things forward, our families needed to be involved. That’s when the falling in love in three days meltdown happened. She accused me of questioning her feelings, said she had never liked anyone else, and sent me emotional, filmy tantrum messages.

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The Three-Day Cry Fest

Listen, I’m 30. Life has already kicked me in the face too many times to believe in three-day fairy tales. So, I gave her space. Told her to think it over and decide if she really wanted to involve our families. We didn’t talk for two days. Then, I asked her what she had decided.

She said she had cried for three days straight. She called herself “fluffy,” a “bad girl,” and kept repeating that I had doubted her feelings. She made it sound like I had broken her beyond repair.

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Did I Break Her Heart?

I told her she had my number. If she ever decided she was serious about marriage, she could call me. And I disconnected.

Some of the things she said felt fake. Some were pure tantrums. But some of them? They hit deep. Falling in love in three days is insane, right? But did I actually break her heart?

I don’t know. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But now, I’m left wondering—was I wrong?

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The Weight of Grief: Living Without a Will to Live

February 15, 2025February 15, 2025 by Mohit

The weight of grief is unbearable. Losing my mother in 2020 changed everything, leaving me with a sadness that won’t fade. Success, love, and money mean nothing when the will to live is gone.

The Weight of Grief: Living Without a Will to Live

I come from a middle-class family, the kind where hard work and perseverance are the only ways forward. Life wasn’t easy for me. I was bullied throughout school, and even in college, I never truly fit in. It chipped away at my confidence, slowly eroding any sense of self-worth I had.

By the time I turned 14, the anxiety had set in. I developed a stuttering problem—one more thing for people to mock me about. Every word felt like a battle, every conversation a struggle. My self-esteem plummeted, and I learned to live in the shadows, avoiding attention, avoiding life.

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A Life That Looked Perfect on Paper

Fast forward to 2020, and despite it all, I had made it. I was earning 30 LPA, more than enough for the lifestyle I had once dreamed of. I had financial security, professional success, and, for the first time, I felt like I had control over my life.

But life has a cruel way of reminding you that no amount of money can protect you from real pain.

In September 2020, COVID took my mother away from me. That’s when everything started to fall apart.

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Losing My Shield, Losing Myself

Throughout my life, after all the bullying, all the struggles with self-worth, there was one person who always stood by me—my mother. She was my shield, my protector. No matter how broken I felt, she was there to remind me that I mattered.

She defended me when things went wrong in our family. She lifted me up when I failed. She was my home.

And then, suddenly, she was gone.

It’s been five years, but the pain hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s grown stronger, more suffocating. People told me time heals all wounds, but they lied. Some wounds never heal.

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Success Means Nothing Without Her

On the surface, everything looks fine. I’m financially stable. I’m in a good relationship. I even got married in 2023, thinking it would bring me happiness. And it did, for a while.

But the sadness never left.

It lingers, like a shadow I can’t escape. A monotonic, dull ache in my head that reminds me, every single day, that she’s gone. That no matter how much money I make, no matter how much I succeed, I will never be able to hear her voice again.

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The Miscarriage That Should Have Broken Me

Two months ago, my wife had a miscarriage. It should have devastated me. And in a way, it did. But even in that moment of loss, my mind was somewhere else—still stuck in September 2020, reliving my mother’s death over and over again.

I hate myself for feeling this way. I know I should be more affected by the miscarriage, but the truth is, my mother’s absence is the only pain I seem to recognize anymore.

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The Weight of Grief: Living Without a Will to Live

I have reached a point where nothing excites me. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to meet friends. I don’t want to go out, smile, or pretend that everything is okay.

I don’t want to live a life where this sadness is my only companion.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know if I even want to try.

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What Comes Next?

They say grief fades, but what if it doesn’t? What if some people are just meant to carry it forever?

I don’t have the answers. I just know that I am tired of feeling this way.

I don’t want to live a life where happiness feels like a distant memory. But I also don’t know how to find a way out.

Maybe there is no way out. Maybe this is just who I am now.

Maybe this is what grief does—it consumes you until there’s nothing left.

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The Dark Side of Corporate Culture: A Cautionary Tale

February 9, 2025February 9, 2025 by Mohit

Dive into the shocking reality of corporate culture, where lavish parties and booze-fueled orgies are the unspoken price of success. This cautionary tale reveals how a young couple’s lives spiraled into chaos, as they sacrificed their morals and dignity to survive in a world of corporate slavery. A raw, unfiltered look at the dark side of corporate culture.

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My Descent into the Toxic Quagmire of Corporate Slavery

This is my story—a story I never thought I’d tell. But the guilt is eating me alive, and I need to let it out before it consumes me completely. I don’t want your suggestions or advice; I just want to share my truth. This is a cautionary tale about the dark side of corporate culture, a world where your soul is the price you pay for survival.

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The Beginning: A Fresher’s Dream Turned Nightmare

Two and a half years ago, I joined one of the biggest IT MNCs as a fresher. Coming from a lower-middle-class family in Surat, this was my golden ticket. My family was hesitant—there was a three-year bond, and I had an education loan hanging over my head. But this was the only decent offer I had, so I took it. My joining location was Kolkata, a city I knew nothing about.

From day one, I gave my 200% at work. I stayed late, worked 14-15 hours a day, and even sacrificed weekends. I thought hard work would speak for itself. But I was wrong.

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The Unspoken Rule: Social Mingling or Suffer

Soon, it became clear that hard work wasn’t enough. To stay in the good books of my team leads (TLs) and managers, I had to socialize with them after office hours and on weekends. And by socializing, I mean drinking and partying at Salt Lake’s popular discos—Barocks and Heka.

Growing up in a staunch Sanatani family, I had always stayed away from alcohol. Initially, I ignored these invitations, politely declining every time. I thought my dedication at work would be enough. But after six months, I was blindsided with a terrible review. They called me “not a team player” and extended my probation by another three months.

I was shattered. I realized I had no choice but to play along.

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Losing Myself: The Price of Survival

Slowly, I gave in. I started attending these parties, fake-smiling and fake-enjoying my way through them. It felt like I was losing a piece of my soul every time—my sanskars, my culture, everything I had been taught. But it worked. I became a darling to the management.

The quality of my work didn’t matter anymore. As long as I stayed late, buttered up the higher-ups, and “enjoyed” with them, I was a model employee.

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Marriage and the Downward Spiral

Things took a darker turn after I got married. My wife and I started getting invited to couples-only weekend getaways. At first, I thought it was innocent—just team bonding. But I was wrong.

These getaways were nothing short of booze-fueled orgies at resorts in Mandarmoni, Santiniketan, and near the Sundarbans. My newlywed wife, semi-conscious and drunk, was passed around from manager to manager. I, too, hooked up with whoever’s wife I could. It was a fever dream, a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

When we returned to Kolkata, my wife broke down. I convinced her this was normal in high society, that we needed to do this to stay in the race. Slowly, she too lost her soul and started “enjoying” it.

Also read: The Arranged Setup: A Tale of Deception and Narcissism

The Breaking Point: New Year’s Nightmare

The final blow came during a New Year’s getaway at a resort in Taki. On December 31st, things spiraled out of control. Everyone was drunk out of their minds. At one point, there were at least five people with my wife simultaneously. I could see her getting overwhelmed, but I was too drunk to do anything.

To make matters worse, some of my male colleagues grabbed me and had their way with me—violently. It was humiliating, degrading, and soul-crushing.

The Aftermath: Living as Corpses

It’s been a month since that night. My wife has missed her periods. I still can’t sit or walk comfortably. On the surface, we’re the same—smiling, working, pretending everything is fine. But inside, we’re two living corpses, floating through the toxic quagmire that is corporate India in 2025.

A Human Condition, Not a Regional Problem

Before anyone points fingers, let me clarify: this isn’t a Kolkata problem. My team is a mix of people from Bihar, Jharkhand, Odisha, Rajasthan, and Haryana. The few Bengalis in the team are in non-leadership roles, suffering just like me. This is a human condition, a dark side of corporate culture that has persisted for ages and now permeates the global corporate world.

My Final Words

This is my story—a cautionary tale about the dark side of corporate culture. I don’t know if I’ll ever find peace, but I hope my story serves as a warning to others. The corporate world demands more than your time and skills; it demands your soul. And once you lose it, there’s no going back.

Also read: The Impact of Hiding the Past in a Marriage: A Personal Story

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A Highly Untrammelled but Cherubic Only Child: My Tattoos, My Secrets, and My Double Life

February 8, 2025February 8, 2025 by Mohit

A highly untrammeled but cherubic only child faces an impossible choice: stay true to her tattoos and identity or risk losing her rigid, tattoo-hating fiancé. Discover her shocking and controversial story.

A Highly Untrammeled but Cherubic Only Child: A Life of Defiance

I’ve always been unapologetically me—a highly untrammeled but cherubic only child. My life has been defined by bold choices, fearless individuality, and a stubborn refusal to conform. But now, as I approach marriage, my past and my future collide in ways I never expected.

Yes, I’m going to be married this year. Unfortunately. 😃

Also read: I’m a Divorced Guy: My Journey Through Fake Allegations and Mental Trauma

The Shocking Truth Behind My Tattoos

I have three tattoos, each one a piece of my soul, a chapter of my story. They’re not just ink; they’re a rebellion, a confession, and a secret I carry every day.

The Broken Moon
My first tattoo is on my back—a hand holding a shattered moon. It’s visible to anyone who cares to look, but its meaning? That’s mine alone. I got it after my first abortion, a choice society loves to judge but one that shaped me into the strong woman I am today.
The Caged Angel
My second tattoo, hidden on the lower part of my body, is an angel trapped in a spiky cage. Only bikinis reveal it, but its story is just as raw. I had it done after my first breakup, a devastating end to a toxic relationship that taught me the price of loving too hard.
The Broken Sun
My third tattoo is a broken sun etched onto my chest, visible only through deep necklines. I got it after my second abortion—a moment that tested my strength and resilience more than I thought possible.

Also read: Navigating My Corporate Life and Questionable Choices

A Fiancé Who Hates Tattoos

Now, here’s the catch. My prospective husband is everything society says I should want—successful, ambitious, and “husband material.” But he despises tattoos. He finds them repulsive, a dealbreaker.

The irony? He has no idea about the stories inked on my body. To him, they’re just meaningless designs. To me, they’re scars, victories, and reminders of the life I’ve lived.

Also read: My Child’s Teacher is Obsessed with Me—A Dangerous Affair Gone Wrong

The Ultimate Controversy: Should I Hide or Reveal the Truth?

This is where my story takes a controversial turn. I’m not willing to remove my tattoos—they are sacred to me. But I also can’t tell him the truth behind them. Imagine explaining to a rigid, judgmental man that your tattoos symbolize abortions and heartbreaks. That would end the marriage before it even begins.

And yet, I don’t want to lose him. He’s perfect in every other way, and society would call me crazy for jeopardizing this “ideal” match.

Also read: The Emotional Manipulation and Fertility Dilemma: A Story of Betrayal and Desperation

A Highly Untrammeled but Cherubic Only Child’s Dilemma

So, here I am, caught in a double life. My tattoos are my regalia, my rebellion. But they’re also my deepest secrets. Do I keep hiding the truth? Do I risk losing him for the sake of my identity? Or do I do the unthinkable and give up the one thing that defines me?

Also read: The Arranged Setup: A Tale of Deception and Narcissism

What Would You Do?

This isn’t just my story; it’s a question for all of us who’ve lived unapologetically. Would you compromise your identity for love? Or would you let go of someone who could otherwise be perfect?

The answers aren’t easy, but one thing is clear: as a highly untrammeled but cherubic only child, I’ve never taken the easy way out.

Let me know your thoughts. Would you stay true to yourself or sacrifice for love? 🖤

Also read: The Impact of Hiding the Past in a Marriage: A Personal Story

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