Hurling Cruel Accusations
My relationship with my mother’s ex-husband was extremely toxic. He was emotionally and mentally abusive, and my mother struggled with alcoholism, which only intensified the chaos. One night, after heavy drinking, things spiraled. I had barely walked through the door when they began hurling cruel accusations—saying I had no friends, that my family didn’t care about me, and that the world would be better without me. I tried to retreat to my room for peace, but they followed, refusing to let up.
Feeling cornered and overwhelmed with rage, I lost control. I flipped my entire bed—not just the mattress, but the frame too. Beneath it, I had hidden a knife for protection. In a desperate act of self-defense, I threatened them until they backed off. The aftermath was chaotic, and explaining everything to the authorities was a nightmare. What followed next was yet another story—one involving a child who refused to listen to his mother.
Hard-Boiled Eggs
As a child, I once asked my mom for a hard-boiled egg, but she firmly said no without explanation. Frustrated, I sulked off to my room. While she was in the shower, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I filled a coffee mug with water, placed an egg inside, and popped it into the microwave—thinking I’d outsmarted her.
As the microwave hummed, my mom stepped into the kitchen and called me over. Just as she asked what I was making, the microwave beeped a third time—and suddenly, BOOM! The egg exploded, shattering the cup and damaging the microwave beyond repair. Guilt hit hard. I had ruined something expensive over a single egg. But worse was yet to come—later that day, I destroyed something my mother deeply cherished, making the entire afternoon one I’d never forget.
Tore Up The Photo
During a heated argument with my mother, I tore up the only photo she had from her wedding day with my father—despite the fact that they divorced when I was a baby. She often says he was her one true love, even though they haven’t been together in years. I destroyed the picture out of spite, not realizing the emotional weight it held for her. When I saw how deeply it hurt her and how she cried, I began to regret it almost instantly.
Later, I found out she had carefully taped the pieces back together and kept the photo. That moment filled me with shame. I had lashed out without thinking, and seeing how she tried to preserve what little remained of that memory made me understand how much I had hurt her. It taught me a painful but lasting lesson about the consequences of acting out in anger—and the importance of thinking before I hurt someone again.
During An Argument
When I was younger, I sometimes lashed out physically when I got upset. The last time it happened was in sixth grade, during an argument with my best friend. In a moment of anger, I hit her hard on the arm. The instant I saw her expression—one of shock and hurt—I knew I had crossed a line. She looked like she'd never been hurt like that before, and I could tell she was in pain both physically and emotionally.
The guilt hit me immediately. I realized then that my actions could deeply affect others, especially the people I care about. From that day forward, I promised myself I’d learn to manage my emotions and never let anger control me again. I’m grateful I learned that lesson early—it shaped how I handle conflict to this day. What came next in my life was another chapter—one shaped by regrets and a need to grow.
Shared Ramen
At ten years old, I made up my mind to run away from home. I packed some snacks and blankets and took a two-hour bus ride to the mountains—a place where my dad and I once shared ramen at a quiet resting spot. I found warmth from a nearby generator and drank fresh spring water. A few kind campers nearby even shared their food with me, making my runaway attempt feel like a strange, solo camping trip.
After three days, nature called in a way I couldn’t ignore. I realized I had no desire to relieve myself in the woods, so I returned home, defeated by my need for a proper toilet. What followed was my brother's turn to test boundaries—leaving a mess behind without cleaning up, assuming someone else would handle it. His lesson in responsibility was just beginning.
Taking Responsibility
After my younger brother carelessly spilled yogurt on one of the refrigerator shelves, I asked him to clean it up. Instead of taking responsibility, he shrugged and said, “If it bothers you, clean it yourself.” That dismissive attitude lit a fuse in me — it wasn’t just about the mess, it was about years of him dodging responsibility and pushing my buttons.
Without thinking, I grabbed him by the collar and pushed his face toward the open fridge, shouting at him to clean it up now. The reaction was extreme, but it came from bottled-up frustration over countless similar incidents. This story shows just how quickly built-up tension with a sibling can boil over when respect and accountability are constantly ignored.
Did Not Expect It
It all started as an accident—one I genuinely didn’t expect. When we were little, my younger brother had this odd habit of pretending to be a dog, dragging around a brick like it was his toy. He’d roll it into my ankles again and again. One day, frustrated after being hit multiple times, I snatched the brick and, in a burst of anger, turned sharply and slammed it to the ground.
What I didn’t realize was that he was crawling nearby, still acting like a dog. The brick landed right on his head. The impact was serious—he needed around ten stitches. Strangely, my parents didn’t punish me, even though I knew how bad it looked. In hindsight, it was a moment that could’ve gone very wrong, and it's terrifying to think how close we came to something much worse.
One Summer Camp
One summer at camp, our group of boys decided to have a wrestling night. At first, it was all in good fun—until a few of them suddenly turned on me, calling me weak and shouting insults. Frustrated and hurt, I left the teepee I had built with a tarp, grabbed a stick I had been sharpening, and in a moment of anger, jabbed it hard into the teepee’s side. It was a forceful strike—almost too close to one of the boys sitting just behind the tarp. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the fear and emotion overwhelmed me, and I ran into the woods to cry.
I was only 12 then. That moment stuck with me, but over time, camp became a place of growth. Now, nine years later, I’ve returned—not as a camper, but as the head counselor. One of the boys from that night is now camp director. We've both come a long way.
Tragic Loss
I was targeted online by a group of individuals, one of whom had tragically lost her parents in the 2004/2005 Asian tsunami. She began hurling cruel insults at me on social media and encouraged others to join in the harassment. I was pushed to retaliate with the harshest thing I could think of, supposedly because I wasn’t clever enough to come up with a better response.
In a moment of anger, I said something deeply hurtful about her loss. The next day, when I started sixth form, I was suspended for three days. However, upon investigation, the school found proof that she and her friends had been persistently bullying and provoking me. They were then required to issue written apologies for their actions. In the following story, a different woman found herself overwhelmed by her emotions.
Tendency To Cry
When I get angry, I tend to cry. One time at work, I was so frustrated with a coworker that I kicked the freezer door, leaving a dent. After that, I broke down and cried uncontrollably for about 20 minutes. Even though this happened years ago, I still feel embarrassed about it whenever I visit my parents.
Interestingly, the coworker who upset me was fired soon after the incident. In another story, a child said something hurtful to their parent—words no child should ever speak.
Regrets
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 Stuff
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.
McFlurry Fury
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.
A Misunderstanding
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.
Nasty Girl
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.
Close Call
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.
Lesson Learned
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.
Respect
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.
Remember This?
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.
The Favorite
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.