Have you ever done something that you are ashamed of?

When I was eighteen, I was sexually assaulted. He didn't rape me, but to this day it is the worst thing I've experienced (and I have actually been raped a couple of times since, cosmic justice I suppose). He held me against him and he kissed me and he licked my neck. His hands squeezed my breasts from the outside of my clothes and then his right hand slipped up my dress. He teased at the edge of my underwear, but he didn't put his hand inside. He just rubbed at me through my underwear. I froze, so I didn't do or say anything to stop it.

I told some friends about what happened afterwards, but they didn't seem to think it really counted for anything. If he didn't rape me it wasn't a big deal. He didn't even touch me under my clothes, so whatever. So I decided to change my story.

I slowly began to "admit" to people that actually he had penetrated me. His hand had gone inside my underwear, and he penetrated me with his fingers. I never named him, no one knew who he was, so I didn't feel guilty about the lie at the time. Suddenly everyone was taking my feelings seriously and validating what I had been through, and I was getting the support I needed. It was great.

Until one friend admitted that he had seen some of what happened. What he thought he saw was the same thing that happened in my new, fake story, so I didn't need to worry about being found out. But it meant there was a name attached to the person who did it now. This guy was being labelled a rapist and he wasn't one. And he had no idea.

This was four years ago, and I know no one I hung out with then really remembers that story at all. If you asked anyone what happened, they wouldn't have a clue who he was, and probably wouldn't remember how far I said he got. But that lie still eats away at me. I'm sure it seriously delayed my healing from that experience. It's not the kind of lie you can take back, especially not when something actually did happen. You'd lose all support, and there'd be the guilt of knowing you're making it harder for actual survivors when people hear the story about the girl who lied. So selfishly, I've kept up the pretense ever since. At least he's anonymous again now.

Guy who I never wanted to name, I'm sorry. Even though I know you're not.


Definately. Two things in particular.

The first was in grade 1. There was a girl in my class who was very shy and didn't have a lot of friends. And for some reason that I can't remember, she was teased by other kids sometimes.

There was a boy in the class, Timmy, who thought it was funny to kiss girls on the cheek when they didn't want to be kissed. I can't fully remember the circumstances, but I do remember that it was recess and the girl was sitting on the ground crying. Maybe she was crying from being teased that day? I'm not sure. But there was a group of kids around her with Timmy there, and the group was chanting, "Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!" to Timmy (I was not one of the children who was chanting). And what did he do? He pushed his way through the group and kissed her on the cheek with tears streaming down her face. I watched as the girl tried to hide her face from him but he was agressive and took her head with his hands to reach her cheek. A teacher came along to break up the commotion and we dispersed. Maybe 15 min later, I noticed that the girl was holding the hand of the teacher who was on recess supervising duty, and they were walking hand in hand in the distance while the other kids were all playing together and having fun. She was holding the hand of the teacher because she didn't have any other kids to play with and she had just been forcefully kissed by a boy in front of a crowd of people who were cheering this boy on. I remember watching the little girl and the teacher and feeling very sad for her.

I am 40 years old now. It was sometime this year when, for whatever reason, the memory of this little girl came to mind while I was driving one day. I could see the memory so vividly and was all of a sudden completely disgusted with myself that I did nothing to stop this boy or help this girl or act friendly toward her afterward. I was so ashamed of this and so emotional that I had to pull over from crying so hard. That evening, I tried to find the girl online. I was pretty sure I remembered her name correctly, and even messaged two women who I thought may be her, asking if they went to my junior middle school. But I was unsuccessful in finding the girl. If I had found her, I would have apologized for not standing up for her and helping her that day.

The other time was in high school. Myself and a group of friends were taking the subway downtown in Toronto. We didn't have a real destination, just headed downtown to hang out and maybe browse through stores. There were 6 of us and at one point we were standing on the subway platform waiting for the train. It was I who looked down toward the tracks when something moving caught my eye. I said, "hey, look - a mouse....and...a wallet" noticing the object right next to the mouse. One of the boys in our group jumped down on to the tracks to get the wallet. He climbed back up and was the first to open it. His eyes widened. He showed us what turned out to be 300$ worth of cash in the wallet. We looked at the drivers license and saw that it belonged to a male, about our own age. Probalby a student like us. Then someone suggested that we take the cash and split it before turning the wallet in. No one objected so we divied up the cash and got 50$ each. I remember someone even justified it by suggesting that whomever we turned it in to would likely keep the cash for themselves anyway. We then turned in the wallet to a transit worker and took the train downtown to an HMV store where we each bought two music CDs with the cash that we stole.

I am incredibly ashamed of both of these stories. Why was I so weak as to not speak up against something that I knew was wrong? Or to stand up for someone who couldn't stand up for themselves in that moment? I would never do this today but sometimes I wonder if the fact that I did this as a child points to my real character. I really hope not though.


This incident occured back in school when I was 6 years old. I'm a girl btw.

There was this girl that for some reason was quite weird so she was always bullied, called names and for the most part had no friends.

Growing up I was a tomboy and so all of my close friends were boys including my best friend at the time.

So me and him randomly decided one day that we should go over to the girl at lunch time and pick on her. I can't justify why we decided this but we went a long with the plan anyway.

At first we just approached her and was intimidating her with questions such as "What are you doing?" etc. Over and over again. My friend then decided to kick her lightly on the shin, so then I followed along and kicked her a few times as well.

The worst part is that we didn't stop there, we carried on until it got to a point where we verbally forced her to lift up her dress and pull her underwear down. So she did just that and my curious friend had a look before she pulled her underwear up again.

We then walked away and pretended like the incident never happened.

The next day, her mum came in and spoke to the teacher and left. The teacher then approached me and my friend and questioned us about kicking the girl yesterday. (She didn't mention anything about the underwear so I'm guessing the girl never told her mum about that).

Me and my friend both denied kicking her and what makes me feel even more guilty is that the teacher believed both of us because we were both well behaved in our lessons and I was always quite shy at school. So the teacher just acted confused and then pretended like it never even happened.

I regret what we did to this day and I regret lying and getting away with it however, I know what I did was wrong and will never ask for forgiveness.

I've never bullied anybody since that day.

I feel very sorry for the girl as she went through this on a daily basis and got no help. I feel that schools need to act on this and I strongly support the activists that are trying to tackle bullying within these premises. Just last year, one of my childhood friends committed suicide due to bullying and from not getting the help that he needed so cleary it's still an ongoing issue.

Edit: obviously I wish I could apologise to her however, I have no idea on how I could get in contact her.


I once sucked on a girl's nipple while she was sleeping.

This incident is definitely one of the top two things I am most ashamed of doing. The other I've never told so I'll tell this one.

It was a friend's house party. This girl, this extremely sexy girl, came in and for the rest of the night I could not take my eyes off her and I proceeded to flirt with her hard. I don't believe she minded as she shared numerous cigarettes with me through the night. Hormonal fuck boy that I was I was hoping she would spend the night next to me as we were both sleeping over but she had her eyes set on the host of the party and slept with him.

And when I say slept I mean actually slept. She had a huge crush on him but she was very friend-zoned and as far as I know nothing happened.

Anyway, poor entitled me slept alone and morning came. A bunch of us needed to get back to our city, she happened to be going the same way as me and a few others. I was tasked with waking her up.

So I go and try conjoling her awake first with words, then shoulder nudges but she was still sleeping away.

I won't say I don't know what came over me. I know exactly what came over me. A bad mix of entitlement and horniness. So I pulled her tank top down a bit and popped a nipple in my mouth for a second.

I actually feel nauseaus remembering this.

In case anyone is wanting to be stupid by saying "maybe she was awake" in any form save it. What I did was wrong. It was gross. And I hate that I did that. Same for age, it doesn't matter if I was "young and stupid."

It was fucking bad and I am so ashamed of it.

EDIT: Because so many people asked, I don't know for sure if she knew what I did. Once I did it I walked away for a bit, did something I honestly don't remember, came back and shook her gently again and she woke up. She could have been asleep the whole time, or maybe feigned sleep as the big creep molested her. I honestly don't know.


I have a few things I am very deeply ashamed of that I need to get off my chest bad..

My brother died around 8 years ago, I still haven't come to terms with it - not so much the death, but my own actions and reactions. He was 21 at the time, 2 years younger than me.

It was like this : one day he had a cold, the next day he was rushed to hospital and 3 days later I got the dreaded phone call "You need to come to the hospital now". When I got there I walked into the ICU and saw him on the bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages like some kind of mummy. His body had swollen up and they had wrapped him for our benefit as I understand it. Tubes coming out of him with blood shooting in and out, machines beeping away like no ones business. I was instantly paralyzed with shock - i was not prepared for it at all.

They said he had been put under and was not aware of what was going on around him - but he opened his eyes, he opened his eyes and looked directly at me and shed a tear. It made me feel so sick I could have clawed my own face off. I would have traded anything to have switched places with him, of the 3 of us siblings I am the only one that would have deserved what was happening.

We were told we had to say our goodbyes so my mum and dad went in first and me and my brother second. My brother - 4 years younger than me at the time manned up and gave a long heartfelt goodbye. But the only thing I could say was "I love you". That's it, nothing else. I felt pathetic. The problem was he had cerebral palsy and it was quite severe leaving him with a slightly childish mind. I was worried that he could hear us and that saying goodbye would upset and frighten him - but it was me who was frightened. Now all I can think about is how I am the only one who barely even said anything, I am ashamed of the fact I couldn't even say goodbye to someone so close to me knowing I will never get another opportunity. I didn't cry and it made me so angry I smashed my first against my bedroom wall leaving blood smeared all over - but I still couldn't cry.

2nd)

My dad died in November 2017 at the age of 51, he was rushed in to hospital being unable to breathe, the doctors told us that recovery was impossible due to the lack of lung tissue. My brother wanted to fight harder to let him recover, I was scared seeing him like that, he had all those tubes and machines hooked up to him - it was quite horrific. I tried to comfort him even though he was unconscious and I had no idea if he could hear me. "You're going to be o.k", he opened his eyes for the briefest of seconds and shook his head. I literally felt my heart being stabbed - it was more than I could handle. My brother on the other hand was the strong one keeping a stiff upper lip and even trying to comfort me. I was just so weak, you know? We got taken into the doctors office where we discussed what would happen next, he reiterated that recovery was impossible and he was not a candidate for a lung transplant and that attempting a Tracheostomy would kill him due to the air bubbles in his lungs so there was really only 1 option. Like I said my brother wanted to fight but I didn't, I convinced myself that it was because I didn't want him to suffer further, but the truth is I am a coward who wouldn't fight, because I was too afraid to face what was happening. I feel as if I led my brother in to the decision of switching off life support, and now all I can think about is what if it wasn't the right thing to do? I hated myself at the time and I hate myself now. I still didn't cry, not one tear . I feel responsible and deeply ashamed over it.

3rd)

My mother died March 2017 age 51. Same story as the other 2 in terms of actions and reactions.

She was fighting metastatic breast cancer and I don't think I said "I love you" once in the entire time. I struggle with emotional and physical contact - even with my own (late) parents and I had deep difficulty comforting her when she needed me most. After her surgery she became very ill and despite the doctors telling her "it's just the medication" I definitely had my reservations. One day I was trying to convince her to go to the hospital - I snapped at her and stormed out of the house. She was very proud and refused any kind of help. I was so angry at her, you know? Next thing I get a call from my dad telling me she had been rushed to hospital and they are "trying to resuscitate her" . I was at work when he called and swear I felt my whole body turn cold. He called back a few minutes later to say "She didn't make it". I never heard my dad cry before, that was the first and last time. Again my brother was the strong one, the hero of the family. I become enraged at myself and punched myself so hard I gave myself a concussion - but I still didn't cry. I don't think I have ever cried (that I can remember) and certainly not in a masculine "I'm so tough look at me I don't cry" kind of way either. I have tried to hurt myself on various occasions to try and make myself cry to no avail - it's complete madness.

Now I am suffering from panic attacks, chest pains, I feel light headed and suffer from bouts of confusion, everything in my body hurts and I constantly feel I am going to die, and the truth is if I did I would fully deserve it - A painful, slow death. I am ashamed of being so weak.

I have a lot to be ashamed of, but these things top the list.! Thanks for reading if you made it this far, I needed to get that out of my head.


Sigh... I really had to think about whether I wanted to answer this or not. I'm sure a lot of my followers are going to be very disappointed in me. What you must understand is that the Abigail in this story is not the same as the Abigail that's writing it now- I've changed, a lot. I feel nothing but sadness and disgust when I think back to how I acted.

Before I get started, two warnings: This answer is going to be long, and it's going to contain a lot of very graphic violence and language. The topic of suicide is discussed. If these things make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

Okay, now that that's out of the way...

When I was 14 years old, my sister took her own life. For a while, I was very sad- but more than that, I was angry. Very, very angry.

My sister was a non-verbal autistic and she was bullied. A lot. There was one girl who bullied her constantly- knocking things off of her desk, shoving her in the hallway, throwing paper and pencils at her in class and calling her all manner of horrible, disgusting names. I hated her. Eventually, I fought her over it, and her behavior stopped for a little while but then picked back up.

Several days (yes, only days) after my sister took her own life, it was being discussed on social media. Somebody who she shared a few classes with made a post about it, basically saying that she always seemed like a nice girl and it was a tragedy what happened. I made the mistake of scrolling down to the comments.

"Damn, that sucks. Oh well "

It was her former bully. I was furious. I was angrier at that moment than I've ever been at anybody or anything else in my entire life. I felt sick to my stomach... and I made a very regrettable decision. I decided to do something about it.

I enlisted the help of two of my friends. I'm going to call them Jade and Taylor, but those are obviously not their real names. I told them about Alyssa (the bully) and I told them that I wanted to teach her a lesson. They agreed to help.

Now, Alyssa never would have opened the door for me. She knew I hated her. And so, while me and Jade hid on her porch, Taylor knocked on her front door. When she answered it, Taylor grabbed her and pulled her outside. Jade came in behind her and grabbed her arms to hold her still. And then I came out and began punching her. I had a flashlight in my right hand (similar to how people use a lighter or a roll of quarters), but I was punching with both hands. Over and over again. Must have been several dozen times- I punched her in the mouth, the nose, the cheeks. I split her lip open and broke her nose badly enough that she needed surgery. All the while, screaming at her... "Stupid fucking cunt! Fuck you! Fat fucking waste of space!". Any horrible thing you can imagine a teenage girl saying to another teenage girl, I probably said.

All the while, she was begging. "Stop! Stop!". I didn't. She tried to kick me- So I punched her in the stomach. And then I punched her in the stomach again. And again. I grabber her shirt, and threw her down the front steps of her porch. Taylor had moved down there and was waiting for her, grabbing her so she couldn't get away. I went down after her, and Taylor and I both grabbed her shirt and dragged her to the driveway.

I punched her in the face again. Then, I grabbed her by the hair with both hands, pulled her forward and shoved her onto the pavement. She didn't land on her butt, she landed straight on her back. Hard.

I started kicking her. Stomping on her legs. Jade and Taylor started kicking her, too. I kicked her in the head.

We all stopped kicking her, and I got down on top of her and began smacking her. Not a slap, like in a cartoon- full-force, open-palm smacks to the side of her face while I held her hair with my other hand to keep her still. Ten or twenty times. Then I began punching her again. I don't know how many times I punched her, but it got bad enough that eventually, Jade and Taylor had to pull me off of her. I kicked her once more before they got me far enough away from her.

Then, I threatened her. I told her I would do some incredibly awful things- more awful than what I had just done- if she called the police or told anybody it was me. I told her she was not to ever speak about my sister again. Then, we left.

I skipped school for a few days after, until the bruises on my hands healed. She spent some time in the hospital with some pretty serious injuries, but ultimately made a full recovery. I haven't spoken to or heard from her in years.

The way I handed this situation was the wrong way. I was only 14 at the time, but to this day I've never stopped regretting it. As the question specified, I'm more than a little bit ashamed of myself for having done this. In fact, I'm downright disgusted.

I'm sorry to any of my followers who thought I was better than that. I'm sorry if I've disappointed or let anybody down. I'm even sorry to Alyssa, a girl who deserved- well, probably something- but most certainly did not deserve what I decided to do to her.

Thanks for reading.


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