Unnerving Anonymous Confessions

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Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Hey, what's up guys? And welcome back to another
anonymous confessions video. And today we're going to be
getting into some unnerving anonymous confessions.
You guys have been, you know, loving these videos a lot.
And if you'd like to see your confession in a future video,
please send to the e-mail on screen now.
And yeah, please comment down below if you'd like to see more
videos like this in the future, please like the video.

(00:21):
It helps so much and subscribe to the channel also helps more
than you'd ever know. So yeah, like and subscribe and
comment down below if you agree or disagree with my opinions on
the people confessions or what you think about their
confessions. So a.
Lot of these people really appreciate the feedback.
And yeah, without further ado, let's get into some unnerving
anonymous confessions. I'm not OK.

(00:44):
Dear Snook, I would first like to say that your videos are
entertaining. They help past time as I listen
to your stories while I do chores around my house.
Good to see your channel is doing great.
One thing to note is that this may be a long confession, so
feel free to shorten it to your liking.
Now As for the confession, it's something I've been holding in

(01:05):
for a long time. It's something people may
understand but not agree. I don't know if I should get
help because I think it's something that can help me in
the future. There are thoughts I have about
harming people. It's something I think about at
least once a day. It's not impulsive or anything,
just thoughts. I think of scenarios where I

(01:27):
kidnap an individual and subjectthem to torture and kill them.
I only think of this to people who deserve it, like Mr. Swirl,
A notorious child M Word, or theguy in Australia who killed a
litter of puppies and their mom while committing acts of Zuluv.
I know people like them deserve to be punished not only by law

(01:48):
but by my hand as well. I know killing in general is bad
and shouldn't be a solution, butto me people like them deserve
to be tortured and killed. It's only fair to people or
other living beings that they'vehurt and not only them, but
people who hurt the innocent. I even think about these
scenarios when I work and even before going to sleep because it

(02:10):
helps me sleep. I like it.
I used to not be like this at all.
I was once very religious and had a strong belief in
Christianity, but certain eventsin my life caused me to lose my
faith in religion and certain people in my life.
When I started having dark thoughts, I condemned myself
because I know they weren't right, but at the same time I

(02:31):
like the idea of causing pain tothose people, so I let myself
have these thoughts. I thought I couldn't be saved at
the time, but that time was the best time to have tried saving
myself. Now I firmly believe that I must
do something about these people that live in this world.
I used to be outgoing while still being a little
introverted. I had friends and a social life

(02:53):
at work, college, Hangouts. Now I've closed myself to
everyone and it's by choice. I want to be alone and I see it
as a good thing. I don't have to deal with
anything but myself. I do think of starting family
when I'm older, like in my 30s, but I don't know how I'm going
to do it. What I do know that I must do

(03:15):
are two things. One, use the pain and suffering
I've experienced to motivate me to do better.
I think I'm going to college to study politics so that I can
help and serve the people of my city.
I want to change the world for better.
I want to be able to help my city flourish in every way
possible. I also plan on going to the
military to get experience and discipline needed to be a police

(03:36):
officer, which then I will become familiar with the law and
the people of the community. Second one is exactly as the
first one but with crime. I will be an experienced person
when it has comes to the things I will do.
It's going to be terrible but I will do it for the right reasons
and I know this won't be a factor of redemption as I would
be committing crimes like theft and murder.

(03:58):
I wouldn't expect people to agree with my actions but I will
evidently do these things for the greater good.
As of now I'm debating on going to college or the military.
I have a comfortable life as I work as a mechanic and make good
money, but I want more. I've always been poor and I know
what it's like to not have things you desperately need.
Which is why I want to move up in life, not just for me but to

(04:21):
those who need it. And thank you so much for
sending this in. And I just want to say hurting
people or killing these people won't solve anything but ruin
your life. That's just not how the world
works. You can't go out there kill
people and people just forgive you and the law will just
forgive you. I think your best case scenario,

(04:42):
if you want justice, get into politics, like you said, get
into being a police officer, an ethical police officer, do
something along those lines and you might be able to feel kind
of that justice be served to these people, although going out
to killing and torture them is not the way to do it.
I really hope you don't do that.I really hope you can get more

(05:04):
of what you want. Go to college, I'd recommend
that. Go to the military if you decide
to go that route. Both of those are very
productive things and I think you can get a very great life
out of both of those careers or educations.
And I'm sure you can do better, but I don't think you know
thieving your way or murdering your way to justice is the way

(05:27):
to do it. I really hope you think about
this more and read some commentson this video.
I recommend everyone viewing to leave some feedback on this
guy's story and tell him what you think he should do.
So please, if you're listening to this, please read the
comments. Listen to my advice.
I know it might not be right, but you know, it's a little bit

(05:49):
more down the middle of the road, a little bit more sane, so
to say. I'm not calling you insane, but
killing and torturing is not theway to go.
I really hope you can think about this.
Thank you so much for sending this in and I hope the feedback
helps. On to the next one.
I was forced into choking out mycleaning lady.
Hey Snook, I really love what you do and after watching you

(06:10):
for some time I feel like I can finally share this with someone.
This took place about 5 months ago.
For a short summary, I'm 18, I live with my mom and we have a
nanny who I call Anne. When we first hired Anne I had
no complaints. She did her job well and usually
kept to herself. Around a month of her being
around she started getting really comfortable.

(06:33):
Too comfortable. For example, she would start
asking for me to give her my personal electronics.
Of course I would say no. She would eat the food I ordered
and loads of other inconveniences.
I'm usually very hard to annoy so I'd just ignore the things
she would do and move on with myday.
Then a day came where she told my mom she wanted to quit.
My mom understood and said she would send her last paycheck at

(06:55):
the end of the month. I don't remember why but this
started a loud argument between her and NI.
Tried not to think much about itbecause it was getting late and
I had school in the morning. Shortly after I went to bed I
woke up to this bloody scream for help.
I was half asleep and delirious,but I ran out of my room as fast
as I could. When my eyes focused, I saw my

(07:15):
mom pressed up against the wall with a knife pressed against her
and demanded she get her paycheck at that very moment.
I screamed to end to let my mom go.
This caused enough of a distraction to allow my mom to
slip away and run behind me for safety.
I grabbed my own knife for protection as I kept trying to
de escalate the situation. Eventually after an hour of

(07:35):
negotiating I got her to put theknife away.
The moment she closed the drawerI lunged at her and put her in a
chokehold. I remember squeezing for dear
life because I knew if I didn't follow through with my plan I
would end up on the news a dead man.
After about a minute and 1/2 shewent limp.
My mom was too shocked to speak the entire time.
I knew I had to act fast, so without even a second to rest, I

(07:57):
grabbed Dan's body and dragged her out of the apartment.
The moment I shut the door leaving her outside, I heard her
wake up. She was screaming, scratching
and banging the door. Eventually she stopped and ran
away. We never heard from her since.
Turns out she was living here illegally so it was basically
impossible to find her. I don't know if.
This really counts as a confession, but either way, it

(08:18):
feels good to finally speak about it.
Ever since it happened, I've been paranoid.
I can never sleep with my door unlocked.
And thank you, Snook. Somehow you're able to make
traumatic stories feel like theymight help someone else.
Thank you so much for sending this in.
And that's a scary situation, but at least everyone survived.
It seems like your mom's OK. You're OK and made OK as well.

(08:41):
But that's a horrifying situation.
And yeah, I'm sure you're, you know, scared to sleep.
Probably have some sort of PTSD.I'm not a therapist, I can't
diagnose, but you know that scary stuff like that will
definitely make you scared for along time after.
But I'd recommend talking to somebody, get a therapist, talk
to them, and maybe it can alleviate some of the fear

(09:03):
you're carrying around because that's a scary situation and I
hope you're doing better now. But yeah, I just talked to
someone. I'm sure it'll help a lot.
And thank. You so much for sending this in
on to the next one. Hey Snook, I've been listening
to your videos for quite a bit and I appreciate the work you
put into your channel. Below is a long witted

(09:24):
confession of sorts that I wrotein the format of a short story.
All of it is true. The only person who has read it
is my partner, but I thought I could send it your way in case
you might be interested in reading it for a video.
Thanks for reading if you do. Betty.
I made my first drug deal for mydad when I was 12.
A patient was in need and my dadwas ready to supply, but as my

(09:46):
father was out and about, he placed that burden on his
youngest. I always wondered if he used
that label to justify his actions.
As if there's any way to justifythe lifelong trauma in recurring
peril he inflicted upon his children.
But still patient. Would that make him the
illustrious Doctor Johnson, not the real last name?
The medicine man with an MBA andarrest under his belt?

(10:09):
The self appointed prescriber who would rather blame the world
around him than acknowledge his hardships as merely
consequential to his hand pickedignorance and ill advised
decision making? The strain supplier selling weed
to those in need while racking up his 15th consecutive father
of the year award. My dad and his quote patients a
match too perfect for any afterlife to take credit.

(10:30):
However, I must admit it would be unfair to lump all his life
choices into a lone tattered. Box.
To give my father some kudos, aside from his patients who
made-up half of the local college football team, he did
provide relief for some of the individuals with debilitating
chronic pain. He managed to accomplish some
level of good. It just so happened to be at the

(10:50):
cost of his own family. I was home alone on a sunny
Saturday afternoon when the landline sounded.
I took a peek at the caller ID and picked up on the 4th rank.
I need you to do a favor for me,my dad said.
His version of a favor, however,might not qualify for most.
Soon enough, my dad was talking me through, weighing out a
strain of weed named in my honor.

(11:11):
I was in 6th grade. Rather than sitting glued in
front of the TV with the remnants of chips sprinkled on
my fingertips or feeling the wind hit my face as I coast down
the small asphalt incline that my siblings and I called a hill,
I was zeroing out a scale in my dad's dimly lit master bedroom.
I scanned over the dozens of Mason jars until I spotted it on

(11:31):
a clean cut black and white laminated rectangle with curled
yellow ends. Read the words Ben's shot.
As I unscrewed the jar, an all too familiar scent hit my
nostrils. I peered into the 32 ounce glass
hole staring back at me with a furry green mount of bud.
Was this what my dad saw me as? A means to an end?

(11:52):
A green clump that he could exchange for another?
My momentary existential crisis was interrupted by the hum of
his voice over the landline speaker.
This was not the time to philosophize and ponder my
father's true intentions. And I had a job to do.
I needed to pull my weight for the family.
After all, I'm in middle school now.
This is what maturity entails. I never had the chance to read

(12:14):
over the terms and conditions, but my dad signed them for me.
I would like to say this was a one time event, an unfortunate
anomaly in my complex childhood,an atomic trauma bomb headliner
for future therapy sessions. But hindsight is 2020 and my dad
clouded my prescriptions with drug dealing duties and a splash
of guilt trip filled ambitions. I was now responsible for the

(12:36):
occasional sharpie marked baggy mailbox drop numerous times a
month up until my senior year ofhigh school.
It's a strange feeling to be cognizant of the illegal acts
you're committing while your father, the man you have no
choice but to trust, manipulatesand coaches you into his perfect
little accomplice, praying on your innocence and naivete.

(12:59):
As the feeding strangers came and went, I snagged 10 and $20
bills from the hollow aluminum container.
Once each car sputtered out of earshot a handful of times, I
was told to hand the bags directly to them.
There was no metallic barrier for these transactions, not a
single care for my safety, no hoodie big enough to cover my
clammy hands, and no breath deepenough to conceal my shaky

(13:21):
voice. Not once did the patient's
question the teenager providing them with their fix, and not
once did my father consider the endangerment he bestowed upon
his own. I was the middle man, the baby
of the family, an unknowing a better who didn't know any
better. I never contemplated the
morality of my situation becauseit was all I had never known.

(13:43):
At school I was taught the danger of substances in the
potential harmful existence thatcomes with that risk.
At home I was taught that my dadwas helping people through the
skunky green flowers housed in the room where a luminous green
light shone through the cracks of my ominous pale wooden door,
a contrast that I never fully understood.
The weight of the jungle of smells flooded the house,

(14:06):
attacking every nose insight andblanketing my clothes with its
stench. The in home grow provided an
inescapable prison of complicityto one of my most important
senses. In 8th grade, I showed up to
school with an ugly sweater on for a choir field trip to the
local elementary schools. From the moment I sat down
goofing around on the piano before we boarded the bus, a

(14:27):
friend commented on a skunky smell coming from my direction.
I became the center of attention, bombarded with
questions and stares about my prominent melodore.
After being accused of my grandma's sweater smelling like
weed, I deflected, stating that I had purchased it from a thrift
store on my way to school. The lies seem to silence the
interrogation for the moment, but I was forever marked with

(14:49):
the memory of the foul scent. From that point on, I began
smuggling for breeze from my mom's house to mask my odor with
the chemically refreshing aroma from the blue spray bottle.
Dousing myself in a potent mist before my dad drove me to school
became a part of my daily routine.
I dreaded anyone finding out about my dad's business for fear

(15:09):
of getting him in trouble and being the reason for his
downfall. He heaved his biggest secret
onto his three children, orchestrating his offspring
amongst his felonious endeavors.Force Venus Lies while making
clear the ensuing horrors that would result from a slip up.
I never knew what to say when adults asked what my dad did for
a living. Besides the overwhelming

(15:30):
negative possibilities surrounding the illegal nature
of his career, I was downright embarrassed.
Why should I receive those worried looks and judgmental
stares for a choice my father made?
Why should I be the force to embrace the colossal loads of
mistakes that he has continued to amass?
Why did he not see the errors inhis ways?
Why has he remained oblivious tohis unacceptable decisions and

(15:54):
destructive forms of manipulation?
Why do I have to be the adult when I am his child?
These questions echo around my subconscious as I am left with
no answers. But at least I have a strain of
weed named after me, right? I assume my father saw this as a
sentimental and caring act involving his son in an industry
he longed to succeed in. The name Ben's Shot was inspired

(16:16):
by my passion for basketball from a young age.
I excelled in the sport and played through high school.
He was heavily involved as my supporter, often too much at
times, throughout my years of playing.
Ben's Shot, therefore marked an unconventional appreciation for
our combined interests. I had once embraced this gift
from my dad, bragging to my fellow high schoolers about a

(16:37):
strain of weed named after me. They would pat my coping ego on
the back through a sea of DAP UPS amongst the collective nod
of approval. From the outside looking in, no
one could see the multitude of trauma and humiliation I
continue to accumulate by seeking validation for a gift
I'd not asked for. I reassured myself that I should
be grateful for this present. I should take control of the

(16:58):
narrative and be proud rather than ashamed.
But in doing so, I hid behind a facade.
Hi Snook, I just wanted to say thank you so much for creating
such an inviting and understanding space.
I love your videos and the community you've created.
I have a confession to make. This happened a long time ago

(17:19):
when I was just a little kid, but still makes me sick to this
day. To start, let me explain a few
things about my childhood. I want to make it clear that
none of this is to a means to excuse my behavior, but maybe
the explanation will make my story make more sense.
I grew up in abusive household. My biological father.
He doesn't deserve the title father but for the sake of

(17:39):
clarity I'll call him that. Used to beat my mom and I as
well as abuse her financially and both of us verbally once the
cops are even called. I remember being thrown down the
hallway into a glass door, luckily it didn't break and him
even breaking the thick wooden paddle he used to spank me with
on my behind because he hit me so hard.
And that's just the start. He'd also tell me I was stupid,

(18:02):
ugly, fat and that no boy would ever love me.
Unfortunately, at 26 I've still yet to prove him wrong on that
last point. I still struggle with anxiety
because I grew up around always having to be super vigilant of
my surroundings and try not to set him off or I just get hit.
My sister is several years younger than me and when my mom
was pregnant with her we went toa visit a friend's house at the

(18:24):
beach for a few days. I can't even remember if my
father came with or not, that's how unimportant he has always
been to me. I was about 7:00 at the time.
I can't remember exactly what happened, but between what I
know now was an extreme level ofhis anxiety and something my mom
did to annoy me, I suddenly got very angry.
I was old enough to know full well that there was a baby in my
mom's stomach, but I got so mad I punched her straight in the

(18:47):
stomach. I don't think my intention was
to hurt my sister, I had nothingagainst her, I think I was just
struggling to cope with everything and lashed out.
I was still a little kid so my punch wasn't that hard, but when
my sister was born her collarbone was broken.
I still feel sick thinking aboutthis and I'm about to cry.
My mom has always said that the doctor mishandled my sister when

(19:09):
she was born and that he was theone who did it, but deep down I
think it was my fault. I feel sick thinking about how
much worse it could have been. Now that I'm older I try to be
understand with myself knowing how much I was dealing with at
the time, but the other part of me feels like I'm a monster
because my intention was genuinely to hurt my mom.
I've told my sister the story and apologized.

(19:29):
She laughed it off and told me not to worry about it, but I
still feel horribly guilty. Not to make the story go for too
long, but there is one other incident that I still feel
guilty about. When I was about 10 and my
sister 5 or so, we were in the backyard talking to our
neighbor. He was cooking out on the grill
and invited my mom's sister and I had to join him for dinner.
I remember being really stressedat the time.

(19:49):
I was probably having a panic attack, but didn't know what a
panic attack was. All I felt was really warm and a
sudden sense of urgency to pass the information along to my mom
who was inside. I told my sister to run inside
and tell mom about dinner, but my anxiety made it come across
as super urgent. We had a cement porch and our
one rule was to not run on the porch because there was a cement

(20:09):
stare at the door to step up andgo inside.
I'm sure you can see where this is going.
As my sister turned to run inside, I kept talking to the
neighbor when suddenly I heard ablood curdling scream.
I turned around and saw my mom carrying my sister all bloodied
up. I quickly ran inside and saw
from the blood on the step in mysister's forehead that she had
tripped and fallen straight intothe concrete.

(20:31):
We rushed her to the hospital, but it wasn't very bad.
I still don't know how she didn't crack her skull open
right there on the spot. She ended up not even needing
stitches. I've always felt like it was my
fault for letting my anxiety andstress influence how I spoke to
her. I've gotten much better at
handling my anxiety since then, especially now that I know what
it is and I've moved out of thathell hole of a traumatic home.

(20:52):
However, I still get sick when Ithink about how I could have
seriously hurt my little sister twice.
I feel like a monster. She knows both stories, and
regardless of whether she thinkseither were my fault, she told
me not to worry about it. I hate to think about how much
my anxiety as a kid not only hurt myself, but the people I
cared most about. Hello Snook.

(21:14):
First of all, obviously I got tosay that I love your videos.
I'm a dog groomer and you make my job even more enjoyable than
what it already is. Here is my confession.
When I was about 15 to 16 years old, me and my friend went to
PetSmart to pick up some stuff for my dog.
I went to the bathroom in the store and in one of the stalls I
found a wallet. It had about $1000 in it with a

(21:37):
piece of paper describing all the bills that the person had.
Till this day, it pains me to say that I took the money.
Every time something bad happensto me, I think of that situation
and just remind myself that it'sprobably karma for what I did.
I don't even remember what I didwith money, but obviously I
spent it growing up. We live paycheck to paycheck and
I remember the way my mom would struggle to make ends meet, so I

(21:59):
can't imagine how this person felt losing $1000 when I was 20.
I am 25 now. I donated 1000 to the SPCA in my
city for my birthday. In my mind this was sort of way
to pay back for what I did, but still, I don't think I'll ever
feel better about this situation.
I've never told anything like this again and man, I feel

(22:21):
terrible even just talking aboutit.
That poor person. I hope they're doing good and I
hope they don't remember that that even happened to them.
I'm so sorry, and if I knew who they were, I'll do anything I
can for them to forgive me. Anyways, thanks for reading
Snook. Thank you for the videos you

(22:43):
create. They're amazing to listen to at
work and it makes time pass and I just love hearing stories of
other people's lives. Here's my story.
My name is Blaine, I'm 20 years old and I am from a small town
in Michigan, USA. Growing up I never really had a
father figure. My mother met my stepdad when I
was probably 9 or 10 and he's taken care of me and it's not

(23:03):
the same I guess even though I do see him as my dad, my bio dad
has never been in my life. I've never met him.
I wanted to find out who he really was when I was 13.
The reason my biological dad hasnever been in my life is because
when my mom was pregnant with me, my dad was doing
methamphetamine. He used to sell it, possibly
even made it himself. My dad murdered my brother while

(23:25):
he was smoking meth. My brother was four years old.
This happened in a small town inIndiana.
It haunts me every day not knowing why he did it, not
knowing who my brother is, not knowing anything.
For the longest time, my mom never told me about that side of
my family. I never spoke to them until I
was 15 and I found out about them on my own.

(23:46):
I met my two older brothers frommy dad's side on Instagram.
My mom also had four kids, including me.
I met them in person when I was 17, along with my grandparents
and others in the family. They're amazing people as well.
They're all super hard workers and very successful people.
I'm going to Florida with my brothers next month, which is
amazing because we've grown super close together.
But back to my dad. He was charged with a lot.

(24:10):
He'll FaceTime in prison until possibly 2038.
I don't know what I'll do when or if he gets out.
I've talked to him before only through text.
He has a tablet in prison that allows him to talk to family
whenever he wants to. But I'm not sure how to feel
when or if he gets out. Part of me wants to punch him in
the face, part of me wants to give him a handshake because

(24:32):
I've never actually known him. We do have a lot in common as
well. When I first talked to him, I
was very angry for what he'd taken from me.
But as I grow older I've learnedto forgive.
Not because I feel sorry for him, but because everyone
deserves a second chance, no matter how bad they've done.
It's absolutely a nightmare knowing what he did, but do you
think maybe it was the drugs? Do you think he actually wanted

(24:55):
to kill my brother? I'm not too sure.
I do know that sometimes it's hard to open up to him because
of it, but I try to treat him like any other human being
because everyone makes mistakes.That's all I have to share as of
now. Thank you for reading.
I hope this will reach out to others and allow them to maybe
forgive someone in their life who has messed up horribly.
Thank you for giving me someone to open up to.

(25:17):
Thank you for reading. Goodbye dear Snook, I enjoy
watching your videos a lot and it's the only thing that helps
me go to bed. OK now to my confession.
I was about 6 and my grandparents were visiting my
family. They stayed with us in our house
and we had one spare bedroom. I would share the room with my

(25:37):
grandma and my grandpa would usethe spare room during the
visits. I would usually wake up in the
middle of the night and have trouble going back to sleep.
I got spooked easily as a kid soI couldn't walk around in the
dark. I would usually need to turn on
the big light. On their third night I think
during visiting we went to bed and it was a normal night so
far. I then woke up and couldn't go

(25:58):
back to. Sleep as always.
I then hear a sort of muffled yell and groan.
It sounded like my grandpa, me being the scared little kid I
was, threw the blanket over my head and tried to hide.
I was too scared to check up on what happened.
I thought he probably just stubbed his toe.
I then wake up and start gettingready for school during
6:40-ish. I walk into the living room and

(26:19):
see my grandma lying on the floor.
The bed in the spare room was uncomfortable so he would
usually watch TV and sleep on the couch with the blanket over
his head. My grandma, who woke up a little
bit before me, was sitting on the couch not bothering him
because she thought he was tiredand didn't get a good night's
sleep. We then hear my grandpa grunt,
not speak, just grunt loudly. We uncover the blanket off of

(26:41):
his head and he has a black eye and wet himself.
We called the ambulance and he went to the hospital.
It turns out when I heard him yell and groan, he had a stroke.
The stroke has caused him not tobe able to speak ever again and
he paralyzed on his left side. I feel so guilty and bad after I
couldn't sleep for a few nights just to think that if I possibly

(27:02):
wasn't scared and just got up tocheck on him, I'd be able to
speak to him again. Snook, I hope you're able to
read this confession that still haunts me to this day and it's
just a reminder that I could have easily prevented all of
this. Hi Snook, I apologize if my text
is choppy or written wrong because I am a teen and English

(27:22):
is not my first language. I have lots of history with
drinking, smoking, shoplifting, and depression.
I started having depressing thoughts after I'd seen two
corpses slash other teens who aged themselves on a tree near
my house. Those happened to me when I was
about 7:00 and 9:00. Had to call the police when I
was about 9:00 because my parents weren't able to.
I'd started thinking of how hanging worked and I had googled

(27:44):
the hanging knot and tried to hang my plushies.
After a few months those went away with talking to
professionals, but they came back after.
My dog had to be put down of oldage when I was about 9:00 and
10:50, but after that they were aggressively hard to ignore.
So I started self aging at the ripe age of 11.
It was really hard after I had turned 12 and in January I

(28:06):
decided to stop. For over a year I could stop
cutting, but one day it had gotten hard and it took the
blade again. I felt shame and freedom at the
same time. I had an active addiction while
in school. Sometimes the withdrawals got
too bad so I took a blade out ofmy school bag and excused myself
to the bathroom and had a 5:00-ish minute session every
day. Sometimes it got so bad that I

(28:29):
started to scratch myself prettyhard.
I've got it under control for a week or few now.
So I've been sick for over a week with a fever and mycoplasma
and it's been frustrating and hard for me.
And mycotoplasa equals a lung infection slash virus that makes
it hard to breathe and gives me weird rashes.
I've been having a day long depressive episodes and I've
wanted to K myself over taking medicine and I haven't been able

(28:50):
to see anyone else than my mom, mom, dad and brother and
brother's girlfriend. One night after midnight I took
all my medicine wishing I would die and my mom had to watch so I
wouldn't overdose slash harm myself and after I took some I
went to bed. While listening to your videos
in bed I didn't fall asleep because it was so cold and your
video was scaring me so I stayedawake watching tik toks on my

(29:12):
burner phone. I don't have WhatsApp on it but
I do have insta, Facebook, Reddit, Twitter, Snapchat,
TikTok and lots of games. And at around 12:30 I started
coughing up lungs and I passed out because I didn't get in any
air or exhaustion. Later I woke up and I had gas
for air and I rose from my bed and I checked myself in the
mirror around 1:00 AM and I was blue and purple.

(29:33):
I didn't wake my guardians of the fear that they would not
give a fuck. I went back to bed and cried
that I wouldn't wake up. Obviously I woke up but I wished
I earlier to die but now I was wishing I didn't.
I hope someone else has realizesthat life is worth living.
T OK PS Your videos are amazing and I always listen to them in
class or before going to bed. Hello, I am an artist.

(30:00):
There's just about one thing I want to make clear in my
artwork, however distorted it might be, and that is the blood.
I want to make it correct. I want to render all the viscera
and gore correctly. I want to evoke as much of A
visceral reaction for myself as possible when I'm looking back
at my drawings. This in of itself is not a
problem. Just another 15 minute freak, if

(30:21):
that. I share it to my friends if they
ask. They understood and do not.
I don't blame them, but I fear hosting an account for many
reasons, including the below. My issue lies more in that I
have often times gotten so frustrated with my lack of
ability to do it properly from the mind that I searched out for
reference. Real people getting really

(30:41):
wrecked? Run the gauntlet, Shock sight
screamers. I've seen them all, and some of
them I've saved in order to use as reference for my artwork.
Some of them, the description made it sound worse than it was.
Some of them are perfect material.
At times I might digitally cut out a piece of the wreck and
interpolate it with my drawings if I find myself even more
frustrated that I for some reason or another still can't do

(31:04):
it. GIFs and videos are usually the
best because they give a large range of motion and most still
images have to me an uninteresting or sufficient
quality. That is my confession.
I've considered beginning to take from kill films because I
want to replicate it reality as much as possible, expectantly.
It's difficult, but it is my endgoal.

(31:25):
Optional. No, I don't recommend this
process to anyone else. What I have seen is, quite
frankly, things no one should ever see in their lifetime.
Do not do it to be desensitized.Do not do it in order to brag.
Do not do it because you think you can handle it.
The human brain is traumatized by violence, simulated, faked,
or real. If you really look at it, it

(31:46):
won't get out of your head. Don't be like me.
Hey Snook, I would like to remain anonymous for my
confession. This will be a long one, but I
promise that I have an importantmessage to share at the end.
This confession is heavy on the topic of animal death, so for
those highly sensitive to this topic, there's no shame in

(32:07):
skipping this confession. I've taken care of 6 budgeter
parakeets in my lifetime, and none of them have died a
peaceful, natural death. It all started when I was 14
years old. My close friend, who I had known
since elementary school, had gotten a very cute male parakeet
named Malibu. He was yellow and bright green,
very chatty, would sit on your shoulders.

(32:29):
I was so charmed by him. I wanted to care for parakeets
of my own. My mom was charmed by him as
well. I did what I believed at the
time was thorough research on how to properly care for
budgies. Then my mom and I went to the
chain pet store where we bought the cage, perches, food and
other items we believed we needed for budgie care.

(32:49):
We had also bought the budgies. The first was a large yellow and
green male with a beautiful longblue tail who appeared to have a
tame and handle able temperament.
We had seen him earlier in the week and were originally going
to bring him home only, but he was interacting with a skinnier
blue and white male and we didn't want to separate the two.
We named the yellow 1 Fruity andthe blue one Pebbles after the

(33:11):
cereal brand. My father was not happy as he
never agreed to having any pets or animals in the house.
All was well in the beginning. Fruity and Pebbles were very
cute together. They would play with the bells
and other toys would get for them, and they would sing a lot.
However, my father would handle them in ways I didn't approve
of. We have a pool with a lanai.

(33:31):
A lanai is a metal frame screen enclosure over a swimming pool
in the entirety of its deck and my father would often put their
cage outside and leave it open so that they could fly around
the screened area outside freelywhile I was at school and
couldn't do anything about it. Often times when I get back from
school my parents would tell me about how they have done this
and my birds would fall into thepool and they would have to fish

(33:53):
them out. They had talked about it as if
it were some funny light heartedevent and I always told them not
to do this, that it endangers mybirds and that they are to be
inside only. However, every morning when we
would uncover the cage, Pebbles would screech in a monotonous
and consistent manner as he get up for school very earlier.
Wake up at 5:00 AM, leave by 6:15 AM to make it to school by

(34:15):
7:00 AM as it was my next town over.
But my parents would sleep in for longer, meaning that if I
wouldn't uncover their cage whenI got up, they would be left
covered for longer than they should be.
This would mean that went out and cover their cage, Pebbles
would begin his daily morning screech. 1 morning my dad was so
irritated by Pebbles screeching he moved their open cage outside

(34:37):
of the pool deck and went back inside to sleep.
When my parents got up and went to check on them, they found
Fruity floating dead in the pooland Pebbles floating half dead.
My mom had tried to gently blow dry him with a hair dryer hoping
he would recover, but it was toolate and he had to passed away
when I was walking back from thebus stop.
My dad actually intercepted me before I got home, which was

(34:59):
unusual. He asked me if I was having a
good day and I told him I was. He then told me that they had
once again ignored me when I told them to keep my birds
inside and they drowned because of it.
This had occurred on Easter and my parents kept their corpses
and only buried them until threedays later because they thought
that they would resurrect. Much like Jesus, my parents are

(35:19):
not very rational people and their personal beliefs disturbed
me, but that is rabbit hole for another time.
I was extremely upset with them and we'd gotten two other
budgies this time a skinny framed yellow and green female
with Gray tipped wings from the same pet store chain as the
first two in a greenish blue andsilver female from a different
pet store chain. We had gotten her from a

(35:40):
different pet store because we had one and one yellow one and
one blue one, but there were only yellow ones at the first
chain. I named the yellow one Peanut as
I always found it to be an adorable name for an animal, and
the blue one was named Sprinkle by my mom, I'm guessing because
her colors reminded me of a sprinkle of rain.
We had a habit of going to the pet store and looking at the
animals. There are not many exciting

(36:02):
things to do in the area and soon we are charmed by two more
budgies and brought them home. We brought home a large yellow
and dark green male with dark eyes named Banana and a white
and true blue female with dark eyes named Pepper.
Every budgie that is bought froma pet store chain has clipped
wings so they initially can't fly until the feathers grow
back, but they are supposed to at least be able to glide down.

(36:25):
Bananas wings were clipped so poorly, instead of gliding down,
at some point he must have fallen to the ground like a rock
and the impact of his breastbonehitting the ground must have
broken his skin. He had a wound on his chest and
belly area that would scab over and bleed over and over again
because Banana would keep picking at it when a small
animal bleeds. It's dire and not something I

(36:45):
would have ever anticipated to happen when I took a small
animal under my care. My mom and I would take him to
the vet where they would make a cone of sorts out of a pool
noodle to place around his neck to prevent him from picking out
a scab, but it made him slump forwards heavily, restricted his
mobility, and change his personality when he was wearing
it. He was normally a tame and
cheerful boy, but while wearing this uncomfortable pool noodle,

(37:07):
he would bite extremely hard, which was something he never
did. They couldn't do surgery on him
or apply sutures because he was too small, so the pool noodle
was the extent of the vet's help.
There were only general veterinarians in their area and
the nearest AVM that was over 80miles away.
When we decided this wasn't going to work out, my mom used
her craftiness to make her own cone for banana that resembled a

(37:28):
dog cone. We would leave it on him and
only take it off so we could eat, drink, and preen his
fellers while closely monitoringhim to make sure he wouldn't
bite off his scab. My mom once even carefully and
extremely slowly whittled away alarge portion of the scab so
that part of it was intact, but to prevent the odds of a sudden
movement damaging it all and to reduce the itchiness of it for
banana. Miraculously, he made a full

(37:51):
recovery, but the whole incidentwas traumatic and should have
never happened. I truly considered it a miracle
that he had survived and recovered.
Some months later, Sprinkle started exhibiting signs of
illness. She was often puffed up, had
feces stuck to her vent, and often made an unusually high
pitched squeaking sound whenevershe would eat that I've never
heard before. We took her to the vet and the

(38:12):
vet prescribed her an antibioticwhich we could give to her.
We also had to keep her in a separate cage.
We would also give our budgies abowl of shallow room temperature
water with some leafy greens to bathe in.
But when we would give sprinkle one of her own, she would never
bathe and we'd have to try and clean her by hand.
One day her ear started to bleed.
We took her to the general vet who had no idea what to make of

(38:34):
it and couldn't really do anything to help.
Days would pass and the inevitable happened.
I was at school and my mom noticed Sprinkle showing signs
of dying, flailing, flapping, contorting.
My mom rushed to the vet, but sprinkle died in her hand right
as she was about to open the door to the vet's office.
We later discovered that this effort would have been futile
anyway because the vet was out for lunch.

(38:55):
We were devastated. It was especially hard on my mom
because she had witnessed sprinkle dye in her arms that
left us with peanut, banana, andpepper.
This will be a bit of a tangent,but I promise it ties back to my
budgies. Years have gone by and I am now
22 years old. Admittedly, I have been taking
care of myself. The only reason I'm alive is

(39:15):
because I've listened to other people describe their near death
experiences and the conclusion I've come to is that no matter
how much you think you've accepted death and thought you'd
be at peace with it, when it comes to you, when you actually
start dying it's an unimaginablepain and fear beyond human
comprehension. I don't want to experience it
myself for as long as possible, but I have no greater plans or

(39:36):
aspirations. I've had eating habits and I'm
underweight not because of anybody image issues, but from a
low appetite and an unwillingness to put in effort
to prepare food. I don't even order take out
because the privacy of delivery is more than I'm willing to pay
and I know it adds up. I still live at my parents'
house but nobody really cooks. My mom works 2 jobs just like I

(39:58):
do and my dad just eats cheap newly expired reduced price food
from Walmart that nobody else wants.
My hygiene isn't great as I usually brush my teeth only once
a day in the morning and only bathe once a week.
Before then I just wipe myself down with wipes, supply
deodorant, spray some perfume, and pray.
Or I wash my hair only in the bathtub every other day or just

(40:18):
when my hair looks greasy. I tend to wear the same hoodie
and pants for a week straight. I think you get the idea.
I'm gross, unmotivated, and I barely take care of myself.
My mom isn't much different. I work so much because I feel
like it's just what I'm supposedto do or expected to do, and
it's the bare minimum of being alive.

(40:38):
Unfortunately, the neglect didn't end with me.
When I started to barely take care of myself, I wasn't doing
everything I was supposed to do for my budgies either.
I'd only clean their cage once every two weeks or once every
month instead of once a week like I was supposed to.
I rationalized this or dismissedit because they would spend most
of their time outside their cagein their own little area.
They would only really spend time in their cage when they

(41:00):
would sleep and it was away fromthe ground where they would do
the most poop and waste. That didn't matter.
It was a health hazard and I should have been cleaning it
once a week. My mom would rarely help,
despite her helping more in the past and being on board with
getting the parakeets when I wasa minor.
I wouldn't have been able to getthem without adult supervision
at the pet store and that is hardly relevant now that I'm an

(41:21):
adult. My dad would never do anything
either, but he never wanted themnor did he agree to having them
in the house. He often made threats of
releasing them outside. They were ultimately my
responsibility and I was not doing what I was supposed to do
doing to ensure their care. The most I would do everyday is
change their water and give themnew food along with putting them
back in the cage at night and covering it with a bed sheet.

(41:44):
Occasionally I would give them hard boiled eggs, paprika seeds,
and a shallow bowl of water witha lettuce leaf for them to bathe
in. I've been considering surrending
them to a bird organization, butit looked complicated and I kept
putting it off. I was also worried that the
request wouldn't be taken seriously, as budgies are small,
often sold cheaply and bred irresponsibly, and I thought the

(42:04):
rescue would prioritize larger birds.
At the end of the day, all of these thoughts were poor excuses
for not reaching out, and I'm angry that that not even tried
before it was too late. All three of my remaining
budgies would start to not look so great.
Pepper would often vomit on occasion and puff up her
feathers. We had sent her feces to be
tested and they came back negative for any viruses,

(42:26):
bacteria that would cause sickness, or parasites.
We thought it was because we would try to get our parakeets
to eat small colorful pellets instead of seeds that are high
in fat. The problem appeared to stop
when we went back to giving themseeds, but would return at
random. Peanuts started losing feathers
on her legs, under her wings, and at the part of her body
where her wings connected to hertorso.

(42:47):
We never saw her plucker feathers or get them plucked by
the other budgies. And Banana, despite being the
healthiest looking one, always had his wings trembling a
little, which was not something we had seen him from him in his
earlier years. Ever since I started taking care
of the budgies, I've had recurring nightmares over the
years that I suddenly have many pets that I didn't know I had
and they're all sick, dying or starving.

(43:07):
As in they've been there the whole time, I just had no
awareness until it was too late.There were all kinds of animals
such as cats, dogs, birds, and even tarantulas.
Sometimes the birds would accidentally get out or I'd
squish the tarantulas by accident, killing them.
Those nightmares were bad, but they don't hold a candle to the
horrible reality I would witnessin the waking world.
As of the time I'm typing this, the morning of yesterday, all

(43:30):
three of my parakeets were alive.
Pepper looked sort of sick and puffed up, and her vent had
feces. She was on a wooden corner
platform in the cage under a small covering.
This is where she sits when she isn't feeling well or wants to
be alone. The other two seemed like they
were usual selves. I prepared a shallow bowl of
room temperature water with a lettuce leaf for them to splash
round in. Immediately, Banana and Peanut

(43:52):
started shredding the lettuce and splashing around in the
water, playing and cleaning themselves.
They looked happy and vigorous. I was hoping this would entice
Pepper to come out and clean herself as well.
She did not. 30 minutes later, I'll look at Banana and Peanut
as they're sitting on some window perches.
Both are breathing abnormally heavy and I've never seen it
before. I tried to coax Peanut on my

(44:14):
finger, but her grip was extremely weak.
Her toe started curling inwards like the legs on her dying
spiders. Her balance was non existent and
she couldn't stay upright. At this point I'm holding her in
my hand and she starts falling and flailing and throwing her
head back moving abnormally. I started to panic as nobody
else was home and I called my mom with every second.

(44:36):
Peanuts condition was rapidly deteriorating.
She was flailing so much. I sat on the ground and tried to
hold her near my lap, close to my torso in a way that wouldn't
hurt her but would prevent her from moving so much and tumbling
from my lap. I started to cry and I knew she
was dying. She threw back her head, let out
a quiet and feeble squawk that I've never heard before, laid

(44:57):
down and stopped breathing. Banana had flown down from the
perch and was nearby. I could see that he too was
breathing extremely heavily. He tried to walk, but had no
balance and kept flailing forward.
He was showing that exact same symptoms as my now deceased
Peanut, who was laying in my hand and I knew that he too was
about to die. I held my hand near him and he

(45:18):
climbed up with what little strength he had.
I held him in the same manner I held Peanut.
He didn't flail as much, nor didhe make it quiet squawk.
However, he too died just seconds before my mom got home.
My 2 parakeets who were vigorousand looked happy only 30 minutes
before had both died, one after the other exhibiting the same

(45:39):
symptoms. I knew that they had been
poisoned or they had ingested something that was contaminated.
My mom cried together with me but couldn't stay as her job was
time sensitive and couldn't be rescheduled.
So I was left alone again. Pepper was still alive and
sitting in the same spot. My current theory was that the
lettuce that was in the bowl wascontaminated with E coli, as

(45:59):
romaine lettuce frequently is, and that the recall had not been
announced. I had an ounce of hope that
because Pepper didn't interact with the lettuce, she wasn't
poisoned or infected. I held my finger to her to test
her grip. It was poor.
She called back to her spot and I decided to leave her alone.
I'd check on her every 10 minutes.
After 30 minutes I heard movement and came over to her

(46:19):
cage. She had probably moved herself
to the floor and that's when I knew it was probably happening.
I didn't want her to die on the cage floor where there are feces
and discarded seed shells, so I got a box, put a towel in it and
place her there. There are moments where I
thought she'd be OK after all asshe tried to walk around and
seemed to alert, but I was wrong.

(46:39):
It was longer than what I had witnessed with peanut and
banana, but after 30 minutes, Pepper too started to flail,
threw a head back, let out the same noise that peanut did and
stop breathing. I've been theorizing about what
had poisoned or contaminated my budgies, but thinking about what
has been different recently. My dad bought and gave them
mallette from the brand Extreme Natural Millet Supply at

(47:01):
Walmart. They had not been given Millet
for a long time until the day before their deaths.
I was worried about its high fatcontact.
Millet is considered a treat forparakeets.
They didn't eat the Millet untilthe day after his placed, the
same day they had died. Pepper had eaten some.
I'm unsure of the other two. However.
It wasn't expired and there doesn't seem to be any bad

(47:21):
reviews mentioning sudden death.It isn't unheard for a parakeet
to choke on the Millet, so it's seriously unlikely that all
three would have choked on it atonce.
It is possible that there could be mold that is not visible to
me, but it overall seems unlikely that the Millet was the
cause of the death or my parakeets.
The next thing I considered was that the romaine lettuce was

(47:41):
contaminated. I hadn't watched it thoroughly
before placing it at the box. However, Pepper did not eat it
or even touch it. Perhaps the water would splash
on her while Pepper and banana were playing in it, and if the
lettuce were contaminated, this would be enough to poison her.
Or perhaps the contamination spread through the air and just
being close enough to the lettuce would be enough.
This would also explain why she didn't die as rapidly.

(48:02):
However, this too seems unlikelyto me.
While considering all of this, Ihad come to a horrific
realization. This is where the confession
portion of this really occurs. While I'm not 100% sure if this
is what caused my budgie's death, it seems to be the most
logical and plausible explanation.
I would say that I am 80% certain we have a water pitcher

(48:24):
in the kitchen that we all pour from.
The water comes from one of the machines at the grocery store
where you insert coins and you can get gallons of filtered
water. The water from the three gallon
jug is poured into the pitcher. At night before I sleep I
sometimes get thirsty and all the cups are usually dirty.
If a cup is available, I'll pourit into the cup.

(48:45):
There however have been instances where I drank directly
from the pitcher and the bacteria and human saliva is
highly toxic to birds and I can't remember if I drank from
the pitcher the night before, but it doesn't matter.
It's possible that the water I have poured was contaminated
with enough bacteria from a saliva that they ingested it and
it killed them. There's also the possibility

(49:06):
that I ate or drank something toxic to parakeets, drank
directly from the pitcher, and there were enough molecules
present in the water from the toxic food that killed them.
My only doubt that doesn't make this 100% certain is that I have
done this before and these symptoms haven't shown up, but
it could as also mean that this time there were more bacteria

(49:26):
present, not to mention the toxic food aspect.
I also struggled to find specific information on how it
looks when a small bird is dyingof being contaminated with the
bacteria present in human saliva.
I don't have information on how quickly it could kill and every
symptom that appears. I've been told that through a
Google search that it isn't typical for such contamination

(49:46):
to kill rapidly and that a respiratory infection develops
with the presence of coughing and seizing.
But there was no information that takes the size of the bird
into the account. My parents believe the Millet
was the most likely offender, but I can't look them in their
faces and tell them that I've been occasionally drinking
directly from the water pitcher and that I believe it is most
likely the cause of their deaths.

(50:07):
Not knowing with absolute certainty the exact cause of my
poor animals got poisoned is haunting me.
Seeing my 2 budgies go from energetic and seemingly happy to
watching their strength leaving them and basic motor functions
destroyed within the span of 30 minutes hurts so much.
I really had hope for Pepper that she would make it even if
she didn't look like she was feeling well initially.

(50:27):
I can tell that they had suffered when they died and all
I could do was watch helplessly as one after the others stop
moving forever. To all of those who are
listening, I don't want nor do Ideserve your pity, but I do want
you to consider how you think ofanimal caretaking.
Parakeets, along with other small animals, are often
unethically bred and sold on a mass scale.

(50:50):
These animals have poor husbandry and are likely to
suffer more health complicationsthan ones that are carefully and
thoughtfully bred. They're subjected to poor
conditions at pet store chains, and even the care pamphlets
available in said chains have inadequate information on how to
properly care for these animals.They are easily accessible as
they are sold for very cheap nowadays, about 30 bucks, so

(51:11):
people don't think twice about whether or not they should
really go through the commitmentof caring for one like they
would with a larger, more expensive bird such as a
conjure. To the ill informed person,
parakeets have a reputation for an easy to care for or being
so-called the beginner's pets, but they are not.
They are frail, sensitive birds and one's a small mistake can

(51:32):
cost them their life. When looking up how long they're
supposed to live in captivity, the information is inconsistent,
but banana, peanut and pepper lived for at least seven years
and could have lived much longer.
Parakeets are not like hamsters who live three years at maximum,
they can be over decade long commitment.
Even before this final incident,Sprinkle and Banana has suffered

(51:54):
due to events out of my control and it has caused a lot of
heartache. These animals were being sold in
an area where there were no veterinarians that specialized
in birds specifically, and everytime we took a parakeet to the
vet they were of practically no help.
It was always clear that they only knew how to help dogs and
cats. Parakeets are often kept in
small I'll equipped cages with hardly any room to fly and

(52:15):
rarely ever let out. The combination of them being
sold for cheap being readily available and PR on them being
beginner's pets often leads to them having miserable lives.
If you are convinced that you want to take care for one,
please don't buy from pet stores.
If you are a person who works a lot and you may not even have
time to properly care for yourself, please strongly
reconsider if you really think you can care for an animal and

(52:37):
give it the life it deserves. If you were in a better
situation in the past like I wasand got worse over time, you owe
it to your animal to surrender them to a rescue or an
organization that can properly care for them.
Their first priority isn't to judge you, but to care for the
animal and make sure it is safe.Don't be like me and at least
try to reach out. Thank you for listening and I'm

(52:59):
sorry that this was so long and disjointed.
I struggle with writing a lot and don't write long walls of
text frequently. I won't be able to look at
parakeets along with other small, vulnerable creatures the
same way ever again, and this will haunt me for the rest of my
life. I buried my poor parakeets today
in the same spot as the ones that have passed before them to
Fruity Pebbles, Peanut, Sprinkle, banana and pepper.

(53:22):
I'm so sorry that I'd failed youall.
You all deserved a long and happy life.
It was my responsibility to carefor you.
I let you all down. May you rest in peace and rest
in peace to all of those animals, and hopefully you can.
You can forgive yourself. I really appreciate you sending
that in and that wraps up today's video of some unnerving

(53:44):
anonymous confessions. I hope you guys enjoyed this
video. I enjoyed recording it for you.
I enjoyed, you know, letting youguys vent and air out some
confessions you guys have. I really appreciate you watching
the end of the video comment down below what you thought
about this video like and subscribe.
It helps a lot and this is Snookand I'll see you next time.
Bye.