Honesty isn’t always the best policy. Case in point: these Redditors, who deigned to share their darkest inner truths. What could ruin their livelihoods, relationships, and even put them behind bars? What is so worth shutting up about? From dirty money to adult imaginary friends, put a lid on these shocking stories the secrets that could ruin lives.
I used to gut old computers from my job and sell the parts on eBay. These machines were just going to a recycling company. It started as a way to make a few extra bucks when things were tight but quickly turned into a recreational thing, I got a high from. Made close to $3,000. Decided to stop because I learned that eBay can and will report you to the IRS.
I speak two languages so every time I received a new essay, I would browse the topic in my own language and translate the text word-by-word to English then submitted it. No one ever caught me for plagiarism before.
I once helped out my female friend's family by taking care of their cat for a week. Every day for a week, I would go over there and snoop around their house. I found my friend's diary and proceeded to read the entire thing. I used this information to get her to like me, and she is currently my wife.
I faked the last two years of college education. My parents put so much pressure on me I couldn't handle it—I was suffering from severe depression and anxiety—so I faked it all. Lied to everyone. Made up fake transcripts. I just got my foot in the door in my desired field thanks to a friend as they hired me as a subordinate.
This place only hires college grads, but no one double checked my credentials since I was recommended. My hopes are that if I need to find another job, I'll have been at this place long enough to get it by experience alone—I work for a very prestigious company. I'm not bad at my job. I'm actually quite good. But my fear is eventually I'll hit a wall and the lie will come to light.
No one has known this for the better part of a decade. It's a relief to finally say it "out loud." I can't even tell those I love. My silence is my prison.
When I was 17, I had an argument with my father and told him to screw off. Later that evening, he died. Our argument was the last time he spoke to anyone in our family and for that, I feel a terrible amount of guilt for. Instead of him saying goodbye and I love you to my mom and brothers, he got told to screw off. My punishment is to live the rest of my days in shame and guilt.
He never left a note either.
There was a girl who I had a crush on the moment I saw her on my college campus. She ended up dating a douchebag dude a few weeks later. I happened to end up sitting in a study room with him and a few mutual friends. He talked about how he didn't think she was that attractive and how he liked other girls. I wrote the girl an anonymous email using one of those websites telling her about the things I heard and how the guy was a jerk. She ended up breaking up with him after she found out he was cheating.
Happy to say we are still together, 7.5 years later. We’re living together in a big city and there’s probably a proposal in the cards sometime soon.
When I was 15, my parents were going through a divorce. My mom worked night shifts and my dad was living with a friend of his. One night my sister, who was 19, at the time came home pretty drunk from a party. She was acting goofy and fell on the couch next to me. She started grabbing my leg and laughing and we started fondling.
We ended up hooking up right there. When we woke up the next day, she had no recollection of the night before, so I just kept my mouth shut. Fast forward to when I’m 18. Sister is home from college and dad is over for a visit. They get into an argument and in a fit of rage my dad announces how he has never forgiven her for the abortion she got when she was 19 and subsequently killing his grandchild.
He's very religious. I then realize the baby she aborted was in fact mine...and as far as I know, I am the only one who knows since she has never mentioned that night.
My daughter turns 5 next week. If anyone knew the truth behind her parentage, I could probably lose her forever. I grew up in foster care, never knew my parents or siblings. In my senior year, I met an older guy and we dated for almost a year...getting pregnant about 7 months in. One night, while we were watching TV, the subject somehow came around to our real parents (he had been adopted as a young child).
Turns out the man I was seeing, the father of my daughter...is my half-brother...we have the same mother. Our relationship didn't last, and he is not in her life, per his own choices. My daughter is extremely smart, beautiful, and well-rounded. She'll never know the truth...her father and I made a pact to never tell her. I just hope she never needs a kidney or something.
I've accepted evolution. My family are all diehard conservative Christians. I believe in God and enjoy attending service. I don't agree with everything they teach, but I accept most of it. The church teaches Young Earth Creationism and it's considered to be a test of faith. If it came out that I've accepted evolution, I would almost certainly be excommunicated from the church and cut off from all the social structure there. I would not be allowed to contact any of my nieces or nephews either.
I'd be stuck with no friends and no social support system in my life.
It wouldn't ruin my life, per se, because there are people in my life who are aware of this, but I did try to off myself once at my college. Was going to swallow, I think, Tylenol and a handle of vodka, intending to induce organ failure and alcohol poisoning. I ended up about to swallow, but the cheap alcohol made me so aware of my actions that I spit it out and ran to my friend's room—I stole the alcohol from him, and it's the only time I've knowingly stolen something—to apologize.
This was maybe two years ago; I ended up having to take a year off and was forced to explain the situation to the adults in my life. For the first time, they found out that I had been sexually assaulted by my older brothers for about five years, and that I had been suffering from depression for about nine years. They did not understand.
Didn't understand how I could be broken up over something that happened years ago, convinced that I was just trying to weasel myself out of my (dream) college, or that I am too stupid to handle it. And when I finally convinced them to let me see a shrink, all they spoke about was how pointless therapy was, and wanted to know how long this would last.
I ended up returning to and then leaving college again, once again due to depression. Now the verbal abuse that I've faced growing up has increased tenfold. Almost every day is some sort of argument, with me hearing about how I've messed up my life, and that I'm a jackass and a fool. I desperately want to leave, but I have nowhere to go.
I have no job and no money, so I can't afford an apartment or therapy. I am so tired of being mistreated, and I want to be free, but I'm trapped in this hellhole.
I came very, very close to committing a school shooting. I was picked on A LOT in high school. I think it was because I tried so hard to be cool and everyone saw right through it. There were these four cowboy jock types that gave it to me the worst. After being publicly humiliated and beaten in front of a girl I liked (as she laughed/cheered), I decided that none of it was worth it anymore.
I had no support at home being an only child and having parents that worked constantly and cutting and burning myself didn't make me feel better anymore. So, I got my dad's handgun out of the gun-safe (he uses the same combo for everything) and brought it to school with me the next day. I can't adequately describe to you guys how ready I was to kill these four.
I had absolutely no fear or doubt in my mind. I wanted nothing more than to show everyone what happens when you push someone over the edge like they did. I had the gun tucked in my waistline. I was wearing this baggy pair of cargo shorts that I wore a couple times a week that day. I remember walking towards the cowboy's table, so ready for it to be over… when the gun fell out of my waistline, down my left short leg and made the loudest freaking sound as it hit the cafeteria floor.
I tried my best to grab the gun really quick, but people saw what it was and screamed, and one of the instructors tackled me to the ground. They eventually concluded that I had brought the gun to school to impress people with badassery, and had no intention of using it. I was expelled and sent to live at a youth ranch in Idaho until I was 18.
I did have the intention of using it though. I was going to kill all of them. I'm 24 now, and I still think about it all the time. I have not recovered from high school. I'm still terrified of people in general and avoid having relationships because of what I fear I'm capable of. I'm not looking for pity. I know that what I did was wrong, it just feels good to tell the story.
Well, it's more of a secret to my friends that I've made recently. Some background first: I don't like being touched or hugged, and I'm incredibly uncomfortable with intimacy in general. When I was in the eighth grade, a bunch of girls in my class convinced me they had a friend who fancied me (they said she had seen me somewhere and thought I was cute).
Faked an MSN account and they talked to me every night for a few months, invited me out to the movies and (obviously) didn't show up, then revealed to the whole grade that I had been tricked into having an 'imaginary' girlfriend. I was mocked viciously by everyone in the grade and ever since then I can't really trust women. I also can't believe that a girl may have feelings for me.
Even when they explicitly tell me they have feelings for me I can't help but feel like they're trying to trick me. It's caused a lot of insecurity, and I can't get 'attached' to people easily. I'm terribly afraid to text, or message people first because I'm convinced that I would be annoying them. What's worse is that when I think about it, I know it probably isn't true; but I can't help but feel like it is.
Even though it was grade 8, it was around the time when attraction to women was just starting to get 'real', so to be hurt at a time as delicate as that has really done some damage. The secret, of course, is that I had been dumb enough to be tricked. As you might suspect, the whole thing has left me afraid of being vulnerable. To have this found out by my newer friends (as in, university friends) would put me in a really uncomfortable place. I probably wouldn't be able to be their friend anymore.
I still have "imaginary friends." I'm almost 30. I lost them for a while. I don't know why or how, but they were gone. I couldn't see them or hear them anymore, not the way I used to when I was younger. It made me was miserable. I kept hoping for a way to get them back. Two weeks ago, I somehow managed to finally break through whatever the barrier was.
I have spent the past two weeks hanging out with, and talking to, a character from a well-known TV show. I can't really "see" him visually, but I can see him with my mind's eye. He goes almost everywhere with me. He's sitting on my bed right now, waiting for me to get off my computer. He's been coming to work with me every day for the past two weeks.
I share my food with him. I kind of mentally duplicate it for him, since he can't touch it in reality. I love it. I'm happy again. I realize most people would say he isn't real, but something about him is. I don't care. He's real to me. I am scared that if anyone knew, I would be locked up and heavily medicated, but I acknowledge it's not really a likely scenario in my case.
After graduating from high school, I went to a small out-of-state college where no one from high school knew me. I was told many times how impressive my false Australian accent was, so I decided it would be great fun to go through college pretending to be from Australia. All of my friends and even my girlfriend of two years thinks I'm Australian.
I have a completely fake Australian identity, family, and past. I will soon be graduating, and I plan on asking the girl to marry me. Everything she knows about me is Australian I don't know how to tell her she doesn't really know me. Guess I'm forever a bloke.
15 years ago—between jobs—I took a short-term gig helping a large gay smut website company, assisting them resolving some performance issues on their website. It was supposed to be only 2 weeks. That was 15 years ago. No one in my extended family knows what industry I work in, let alone know that I'm in charge of everything except video production.
In grade 7 during a snow day, I whipped a snowball at my ex-girlfriend but didn't realize there was a big chunk of ice in the snowball. It hit the girl right in the face shattering her glasses and hurting her eye. She instantly cried after crashing to the ground. Everyone instantly froze and looked in my direction. Out of nowhere someone yelled "It was him!!!" but instead of pointing at me, pointed at my friend beside me.
Everyone agreed they saw him do it and ran to the teachers. My friend was suspended, his parents had to come in to talk to the other kid's parents and everything. This friend was always a troublemaker, but this might have been the final straw that broke him. When we got to high school he did and sold all kinds of substances, and got two girls pregnant before he was 20. He’s unemployed right now and not paying child support. What if I ruined this guy's life because of a snowball filled with ice?
When I was about 5 years old, my sister (2 years old) and I were in the backyard in a kiddie pool. When my mom went inside, I attempted to drown my sister. After I saw her lifeless, I realized that it was a big mistake, pulled her out of the pool and called for my mom. Luckily, she knew CPR and she was life flighted to the hospital. My mom thanked me for saving her, pulling her out of the pool.
Next week was my birthday, the police, firefighters, and paramedics came to my house to give me gifts and celebrate my birthday. To this day 20 years later, I still think about it. I remember the day so vividly, not a soul knows the real truth.
I forged my high school transcripts to get into university. I can't even think about the consequences to my actions if anyone were to ever find out. I'm three weeks shy of graduating with a degree in biology.
There is an autistic kid at school. He keeps telling me he is going to shoot up the school and constantly asks if I want it. I always get scared and say no. He says he will not shoot me and shoot girls so I can have them. He says he wants to join ISIS and become a terrorist. The thing is, is that he is either making really dark jokes, or he is just very mentally handicapped.
I would feel like garbage if I told on him because I don't want the autistic kid to get in trouble. He might not know what he is talking about, but at the same time, if he does something, I don't think I would be able to live with myself...
I started working as a software developer at $22.50/hour. They made me work almost 80 hours a week for 4 years straight. No overtime. They kept the team understaffed on purpose. After 5 years my pay was $35/hr, which is nothing for the amount of work and experience. I was told: "You're on a Visa…so you need this job a lot more than we need you."
I switched companies last year, then I reported my previous company to the Department of Labor anonymously. The company was investigated for tax fraud and shutdown. They may have made a lot of money by abusing my rights, but they'll never abuse another worker ever again.
My abusive dad gave me a car as an apology for being such a jerk as a college grad gift and I accepted it. If people found out I did this, my (true) stories of how much I hate him would seem fake. Fact of the matter is, I actually forgave him because he stopped drinking and said things only a truly sorry person would.
People don't seem to understand that even though I forgave him, he still used to smother me with a pillow and touch/talk about me inappropriately. It doesn't change the past. All it means is I took blood money. I wanted a car so I could drive to work and now I'm doing really well for myself living 4K miles away from him. I thought of it as reparations but when I tell people they think I'm some sort of demented liar.
I paid off my student loans writing smut—and I mean real smut. Kinky, fetish, no-plot stroke-books. I loved every last second of it. Then, I switched to writing mostly-wholesome romances under a new pen name. I doubt very much that my readers would enjoy the crossover, although who knows?
I sent in the form for one of those 90s era CD subscription things. where you get five free but have to pay so much a month after that. I purposely spelled my last name wrong. so when the bill came and my mom freaked out. I could say "Mom, this bill isn't for Jane Doe, it's for Jane Dough." Totally got away with my scam and my uncensored copy of Eminem.
I've always wanted to let this out so here it is. Muslim. Wears the hijab. Lesbian. I come from a very well-known family in the community, so if this ever came out not only would it ruin my life but also my parents’… especially my mom's, since she's an Islamic teacher and a lot of people come to her for advice. If I hear "why aren't you married yet?" one more time I'm gonna kill myself.
I was basically an escort. Technically a sugar baby, but in reality, it is just glorified escort. Only difference is that we would go eat dinner before doing anything. Made $500 per date.
I got CLEARLY catfished by someone and refused to believe it until I reverse image searched one of her pics. I said some really explicit and intimate things to her, and it kills me to this day. She even went as far as to lie about every single thing we talked about. Heck, she probably isn't a girl for all I know (yikes). Only 2 people know about this and they would never tell on me.
I abhor my wife's cooking. I eat it and tell her how good she did, but often it turns my stomach. I went to culinary school. I do most of the cooking. She knows her cooking is terrible, because she eats it also. When she tastes she messed up, and I finish mine and tell her I liked it, she gets all anime-eyed, and I get intimate time. I'm not looking to fix the situation. If I told her it was terrible, it would ruin my life. Doesn't mean she thinks it's perfect.
Not sure if it could ruin my life, but I think I'd lose some of my friends' respect, and definitely my family's, which I find ridiculous. I felt (and still feel) my actions were justified. So, I used to be bullied ever since I started going to school. I was big for my age, but I was considered a nerd and was also rather awkward (still am but not so much).
One day I just snapped, as it turned out that a "friend" I had had for two and a half years (my only friend) was really just doing it as a sick bet/game/dare that the other students put him up to. After, I found out they kept laughing at me and how I had believed I could ever have a friend. I waited until school was over and asked my mom to drop me off at the "friend's" house, as I knew he took the bus and would arrive later.
I beat him near senseless and even though he begged me to stop I kept going. I never felt so good in my life. I also found the kid who had the idea (I got the "friend" to rat on him) and did something similar to him. Granted I still didn't have any friends, but you can bet not one of those scumbags dared laugh at me again. Teachers always said violence wasn't the answer.
Well, if they don't want things like these to happen, they should get their act together and do their job for once. Deal with the bullies, especially when a child brings them proof that he is being bullied. I got tired of waiting and took matters into my own hands, well guess what it worked.
My Great Uncle Jack used to live with my family. One day, he got drunk and had a bad fall that ended up causing him to bleed out, and I ended up finding him. I was 14 at the time, had never seen such an awful sight, and lost consciousness due to all the blood. When I eventually recovered, I called the ambulance and stayed with my uncle. He died in the back of the ambulance, holding my hand. No one knows about what happened to me. If they did, they would realize that I'm the reason he's dead.
I'm sleeping with the wife of a criminal, and if he finds out there is a very good chance I'll get killed. She told me already he will kill me if he finds out. Why? I don't know, just don't care much about my life anymore, so if it does happen, at least I had some fun.
I'm not attracted to my wife when she's high. She smokes weed, and I'm fine with the fact she does, but I don't like the person she is when she's high. She's not as sharp, is forgetful, indecisive, and generally disconnected with the world. In other words, the exact opposite of the person I fell in love with. I don't mind that she likes feeling that way, but she wants to be that way all the time.
Sometimes I'd like to feel like she wants to be around me and the family without having to be stoned. She's got a lot of anxiety issues, and a few other things that make living with her difficult, but those kinds of things I want to help her with and get through together. I don't feel like I can do that when she prefers lighting up over talking through stress.
For nine months of my life, I was the accountant/numbers guy in a car theft ring. I got absorbed into the wrong crowd. One night, I came super close to being caught, and the next day, I completely removed myself from the operation then moved back home.
When I was about 12, I went with some family to the dollar store. My mother and cousins went off to go look at generic groceries so I decided I would just spend my time hanging out in the toy aisle. In the toy aisle, there would always be these bags of marbles that other kids would open and leave laying there, so I decided to fling marbles across the floor and one just happened to reach one of the far off aisles.
So about two minutes later, I hear a loud crash, and someone screams "Somebody help this man!" Being the curious child, I was, I ran over to see what the commotion was about, and I find everyone gathered around this guy who had seemed to have fallen from the ladder as he was getting something off the top shelf. The guy is seizing out and blood is coming from his head as he laid there, and his face seemed to be turning blue.
My mother whisked me and my cousins away and we left. Next time, we went we talked to the front cashier and she said that they called the paramedics, but by the time they got there he had died from choking. Apparently, when he had the seizure he was choking on his own tongue. The cause for the fall, according to the front cashier, was that he had put the ladder on a marble and didn't check it before he got on it.
When I heard what the cashier said I just stood in disbelief thinking I was going to jail, I tried telling my mother many times but all she did was say that I imagined it. In other words: Killed a man with a marble in a dollar store.
I sold counterfeit shirts on eBay for a few years. Designed and produced them myself. Better than the real thing in most cases, because my designs were more appealing than what was currently available by those companies.
This is more my husband's secret. I literally discovered it tonight, and it’s going to ruin my life even if it doesn't come out. My formerly loving and reliable husband has dropped his family and gone into the party and drug scene. Tonight, I discovered that he is probably selling substances. I am going to have to leave with my 5-year-old son. This was a man who is viewed as a stand-up guy and very intelligent. People love him.
In my junior year of high school, I began taking AP Sculpture. As you can probably imagine, no one took the class seriously and saw it as a senior blow off class. As such, I was one of the only Juniors in the class and instantly a target for their cruelty. Starting with name-calling and gentle ribbing it turned much more personal.
It never got violent, but they would bump me while working on the wheel, essentially ruining anything with I worked with. Then it escalated further to poking holes in the clay I purchased ($25, a lot for my 16-year-old self), leaving it dry and unusable. After an entire semester of hell, I decided to fight back. Now, being an art class there was a sizable amount of independent work and the teacher generally left us students to our own devices.
As long as the requirement of six projects a quarter have been met, the teacher never hassled you. You turned your projects in on the drying shelves with a handwritten proposal, and then the clay would be fired in the kiln. I watched my tormentors turn in their projects and then I destroyed them surreptitiously. Over the course of the second semester, I proudly claim to have destroyed 80% of the projects turned in.
With two weeks left in the school year, the teacher approaches these 6-7 seniors and holds one on one conferences with them. The seniors failed the class, they did not walk at graduation and had to attend the local "bad kids" school. They lost sports scholarships and acceptances to top tier schools. And I could not give a flying darn.
Two and a half years ago, I was in dire financial straits. I sold my home to keep my struggling business afloat. I neglected to tell the owners that they have an 800 sq. ft. bunker on the property that I built about seven years ago. The bunker that I've called home since I sold it. The entrance to it is well-hidden, but I still come and go very early/very late in the day.
I'm a single man who keeps to himself. I'm now in a situation where I could move somewhere else, but I love this hidden paradise so much.
IT guy here. It's amazing what people will do on their computers and say in their emails despite having to sign a waiver that all computer activity at work is monitored and recorded. I have half the company's banking, social media, and personal email account info and passwords. I know who is secretly banging who at the office behind their spouse's backs.
I know who is cybering at work and jerking it in the bathroom almost daily. At least they tell their chat partner they're running off to the bathroom to jerk it. I haven't felt the need to check the validity of that one. I know when people are having marital problems, financial problems; I even know one person here had their children taken away because a social worker found drugs in their house.
I know who is embezzling money, I know when people get fired for completely bogus reasons—like they just want to replace them with someone younger and nicer on the eyes—and I know who my boss is buying Xanax and Vicodin from. Basically, I have a treasure trove of my coworkers’ secrets. I won't actively do anything with this info, but it's nice knowing I have the ammunition there if something were to ever happen.
I put a rag into a new water heater exhaust to keep debris out and installed it in a rental. I get a call a week later, there's been an accident. I show up and there's a ton of EMS and police. They ask me where the gas shutoff is, and I go down to shut the gas off and see the end of the rag I forgot sticking out of the top of the heater.
Ripped the rag out, shut the gas off and head upstairs only to be told all the tenants were DEAD. I drink all day now and sleep. It's killing me from the inside every single day, but if I say anything my family is ruined; we have a bunch of rental properties and we'd be shut down.
This won't ruin me because I've already gone no contact with my mom, but it still hurts and is a big secret I've not told anyone. When I was a kid, I had asthma pretty bad. So, I'd be up all night, coughing constantly. My mom and I lived with her parents. We shared a room, so I slept in her bed often when I was a toddler. Mom would come home from work and lay down for bed, but I'd keep her awake with my coughing.
Sometimes at night, I'd be coughing, and she would hug me so tight that I couldn't breathe. It would really distress me that I couldn't breathe but I knew mom loved me so much. I didn't want to tell her she was literally squeezing me to death because I was afraid of hurting her feelings, so I'd just tell her that I loved her so much, and she would cry pretty hard after that.
Took me years after having my own kid and treating him gently to figure out that it's actually pretty difficult to squeeze a kid so hard that they couldn't breathe. Mom is bipolar and has had other incidents of hurting people and abandoning those in her care that need medication and can't take care of themselves. So...I finally put it together and figured out, mom would be so agitated with my asthma that she would try to stop me from coughing by squeezing me almost to death. And then she would cry out of guilt when I told her I loved her.
I had a baby with sperm donated from a man who advertised on Craigslist. If my very religious family found out it wasn't an "accident," I would be completely shunned and disowned. I am a female who is ugly. NO, that's not the secret. But...I AM ugly because I have a facial deformity that I was born with. I've never had a long-term partner and only had sex a few times in my life.
My biological clock was ticking LOUDLY, and I desperately wanted a child—there wasn't going to be time enough to meet someone and my odds were none existent as a middle-aged, ugly female. I own my home, have a career—but I didn't want to lose all my savings to pay to have it done through a clinic and sperm donation, etc. It would have been at least $15K per try.
My chances of adopting were also almost none existent as any woman looking to adopt her baby out isn't going to pick the ugly, middle-aged lady to adopt their baby, plus it’s crazy freaking expensive. I wanted the money I had in savings, etc. to toward raising the child. So, I turned to Craigslist and got it for free.
My child is a preschooler now and I've never been happier or more fulfilled! I pinch myself every day because my child is in my life and I feel so freaking lucky. Every day is a dream come true and I savor each and every moment. I try to be the best mom I can be in every way. Parenting really makes you take a long, hard look at yourself and how you show up in the world.
I parent from my heart. I regularly send pictures and updates to the generous and selfless man who trusted me on a handshake.
I was in an eight-year relationship with a girlfriend who wasn't a huge fan of cuddling. I woke up one night to find she was spooning me. It felt really nice, because she rarely did it, if ever. I asked her if she could do it more often and told her it made me feel really nice. She said probably not. I'm glad we broke up.
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