Servants

Go to sleep

TF'S WRONG WIT YOU BRO

You're on your own.i hope you know it's okay to keep secrets(≧∀≦)

Why urge, Not commit ?☹

╮(￣▽￣)╭They too scared to be shamed, as they should be

Chat, wtf is going on in here!?!

Lady’s, I already did shit in public…

Bro commited

how was it?

It was…

Proudly

The suspense is getting to me lmk what happened

Once, on a sunny afternoon, you found yourself wandering through a bustling city park. After enjoying a delightful picnic with friends, you felt an urgent need for a restroom. You hurriedly scanned the area but found no restrooms in sight. The pressure was mounting, and your options were dwindling.

In a moment of desperation, you spotted a dense cluster of bushes near a quiet corner of the park. Quickly, you darted behind them, hoping for some privacy. Just as you began to relieve yourself, you heard the unmistakable sound of giggling. Turning, you saw a group of children playing hide and seek, their eyes wide with surprise.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as you realized you were in full view of their innocent game. One of the kids pointed and said, "Look, an adult doing something funny!" Laughter erupted, and you could only manage an awkward smile. Hastily finishing, you made a swift exit, hoping to avoid any more encounters.

Later that evening, as you recounted the story to your friends, you all burst into laughter. It became one of those unforgettable, embarrassing tales that, over time, turned into a cherished, humorous memory.

This should be named "the novel about shit"

this is so relatable. thank you for sharing this with us.

Genuinely should be it’s literally shit

I’ll turn it into a book

I’m glad I could help

I don’t wanna go to sleep. It’s not because I’m not tired—I’m exhausted. But every time I close my eyes, I end up in that same terrible place.

It started about a week ago. I’d climb into bed, close my eyes, and find myself in a dense, dark forest. The trees are so tall they block out the moonlight, and the air is thick with fog. Every sound, every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig, makes my heart race. I’m not alone there—something’s always watching me, lurking just out of sight.

I tried telling my parents about it. My mom just said, “Everyone has bad dreams sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.” My dad patted my shoulder and said, “You’ll grow out of it.” But it doesn’t feel like something I can just grow out of. It feels real.

Last night was the worst. I was running through the forest, trying to escape that feeling of being hunted, when I tripped over a root and fell. I looked up, and for the first time, I saw it clearly—a shadowy figure, eyes glowing, reaching out for me. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

So now, here I am, lying in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin, staring at the clock as the minutes tick by. I know I should sleep, but I can’t bring myself to close my eyes. I don’t want to go back to that place. I don’t want to see that figure again.

I try to distract myself. I read a book, but the words blur together. I play a game on my phone, but my hands are shaking too much to concentrate. I even try listening to music, hoping it’ll drown out my thoughts, but nothing works.

The house is quiet, everyone else asleep. I can hear the distant hum of the refrigerator, the soft creak of the floorboards as the house settles. It should be comforting, but it’s not. It just makes me feel more alone.

I wish I could tell someone how scared I am. I wish someone would understand. But for now, I just lie here, eyes wide open, doing everything I can to avoid falling asleep. Because I know, the moment I do, I’ll be back in that forest, and I’m not sure how much more of it I can take.

Every day, as I navigate through my routine, an odd and embarrassing urge shadows me. It’s not something I talk about, not even to my closest friends. The urge to poop in public hits me in the strangest places—standing in line at the grocery store, during a meeting at work, or even while sipping coffee at my favorite café. It’s inexplicable and persistent.

The impulse creeps up unexpectedly, a sudden tightening in my gut followed by the irrational notion of just letting go, right there. I don’t know why it happens. Maybe it’s the thrill of breaking a taboo, or perhaps it’s the ultimate act of rebellion against societal norms. It feels like a defiance against everything I’m taught to suppress. But every time it happens, another force within me pulls me back.

Public spaces are open, exposed. They represent a stage where the world watches, judges, and critiques. I imagine the horror in people's eyes, the disgust, the disdain. The thought paralyzes me. I can’t bear the weight of their judgment, the whispers that would follow, the embarrassment that would stain my identity forever.

There’s also a personal code I can’t break. The idea of losing control like that, of surrendering to such a primal urge in a place where I’m supposed to maintain my composure, feels like a betrayal of myself. I’ve always prided myself on my self-control, my ability to navigate the world with dignity. Giving in to this urge would shatter that image, both to myself and to others.

Each episode leaves me feeling conflicted. There’s a part of me that’s curious about what it would be like to just… let go. But the larger part, the part that craves acceptance and fears ridicule, holds me back. So, I continue my days, wrestling with this bizarre impulse, always teetering on the edge but never crossing the line.

In the end, it’s not the urge itself that defines me, but my resistance to it. My ability to recognize it, confront it, and choose to uphold my own standards. That, I tell myself, is where my true strength lies. And so, I move forward, living with the strange dichotomy within me, striving to understand it without letting it control me.