Welcome to The Rant Wall—a no-BS rant site where you can rant online, vent anonymously, and write a rant without filters. Say what you need to say—no judgment, no spam, just real emotion.
WHY DO PEOPLE TAKE FOREVER TO TEXT BACK BUT SOMEHOW POST 12 INSTAGRAM STORIES IN THE SAME HOUR. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK JUST SAY IT. DON’T LEAVE ME ON READ LIKE I’M A SIDE CHARACTER IN MY OWN D### LIFE.
I wish I could go back and hug the younger version of me who thought love meant sacrificing parts of herself. I gave so much to people who didn’t even notice. Now I’m just trying to rebuild the parts I lost along the way.
Being strong all the time is exhausting. People think I have it together because I don’t cry in public or ask for help. But the truth is, I cry in the shower and talk myself out of spiraling every single day. I’m not strong I’m just surviving.
I hate how quickly I go from feeling okay to feeling like I’m drowning. One small comment, one random thought, and suddenly my whole chest is heavy. It’s like my emotions have no warning signs they just crash in and take over.
I didn’t realize how much I needed validation until I stopped getting it. Now everything I do feels pointless. I know I shouldn’t need praise to feel worthy, but I do. I’m still learning how to be enough for myself.
I keep telling everyone I’m fine because it’s easier than explaining the mess in my head. But I’m tired of pretending. Tired of holding it together for everyone else. I wish I could fall apart without the fear of being left alone in the wreckage.
I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. Ones I don’t talk about because I still carry the guilt like a second skin. I want to believe I can move forward and be better, but part of me wonders if I’ll always be that version of myself that hurt people.
I don’t think people realize how lonely it is to be surrounded by people who don’t really see you. I’m in a room full of voices and I still feel like I’m screaming into a void. I just want someone to look me in the eye and actually hear me.
I’m not sure when I stopped feeling excited about life. Everything just feels like something I have to get through. Days blend into each other. I smile. I work. I sleep. But I don’t feel alive. I miss the version of me that used to dream.
Sometimes I wonder if I missed my chance to be someone better. I’ve spent so many years on autopilot, doing what people expected, hiding who I really was. Now I don’t even know if I’m capable of change or just stuck pretending I’m okay.