People Are Anonymously Sharing The Secrets That Could Ruin Their Entire Lives, And Holy Crap

“I’m an atheist. I’m also a deacon in an Evangelical church.”

I'm an Associate Editor on BuzzFeed's Pop Culture team who spends my days fangirling over all my favorite TV shows and movies.

Some stories deal with serious topics like abuse and violence.

"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 of the fall, according to the front cashier, was that he had put the ladder on a marble and hadn't checked 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."

"I was sent to a religious school for girls and had a really great childhood. I was a bit of a tomboy, playing with LEGOs and toy animals rather than dolls and stuff, but that's not unusual, and no one ever questioned that I was a girl — even me. I knew about men and women, but had never really seen much of naked people. My mother never ever spoke to me about it, but had the impression that when I grew up and got boobs and stuff, my penis would fall off or something. I would be a woman, and other kids would keep their penises, and they'd be men. I dunno, to be honest, I never really thought about it.

Anyway, I carried on with my happy girlhood, had a bunch of friends, and everything was great until I was 7, when a teacher accidentally spilled a cup of hot coffee over me at school. The liquid soaked through my clothes and was scalding me, so the staff immediately stripped me out of my dress to get the hot coffee away from my skin. And then they found out.

The cops were called, and I got taken to speak with someone who, I guess, would be Social Services. They asked me a bunch of questions about life at home and stuff. Meanwhile, my mother was taken in for questioning as well. She refused to acknowledge me as male and insisted I was her daughter. Because she was, y'know, delusional and stuff. I wasn't allowed to go back home, but got put with a foster family and went through loads of therapy and stuff.

The worst part was that literally overnight, I lost EVERYTHING. My mother, my home, all my toys, and all my clothes. I moved schools, so I lost all my friends. They cut all my hair off and told me I wasn't a girl anymore. It was really, really traumatic.

In the end, I came out of it with a pretty healthy gender identity (I'm a guy, but not the most butch guy ever, and I'm fine with that). I went through school and got my degree, and have a pretty good job and an amazing, supportive wife. Everything looks great.

But I can never speak about my early childhood, and how I grew up as a little girl."

"Basically, I have a treasure trove of my coworkers' secrets. I won't actively do anything with this info, but it's nice to know I have the ammunition if something were to ever happen."

"In my defense, I love cake decorating. I make all of the frostings and fondant from scratch. I just hate baking fucking cakes!! I base my prices mostly on the cake's decoration, not on the cake itself, which makes sense. Still... No one knows about this except my husband. I have been doing this for YEARS. If anyone knew my business and reputation would be in the toilet for sure. :/ I keep telling myself I have to learn to make the damn cakes without box mixes, but I never do. I feel like such a sham sometimes."

"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 wanted nothing more than to show everyone what happens when you push someone over the edge as they did. I had the gun tucked in my waistline. I remember walking towards the jocks' table, so goddamn ready for it to be over, when the gun fell out of my waistline, down my left short leg, and made the loudest fucking sound as it hit the cafeteria floor. I tried my best to grab the gun real 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'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, but it just feels good to tell the story."

"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 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."

"He keeled over and let out a long groan before falling to the ground. I looked for the first one, and he was lying in the street a few yards away (ducking for cover). Thinking I had hit them both, I ran around the corner, pocketed my gun, then ran to hide by an overpass a number of blocks away. I texted my girlfriend; she came and met me, and we took a cab home, which drove by the scene.

The man that I shot is now in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the chest down. They (the police, the gang members, the community) didn't know who shot them. They think it was rival gang members."

"He landed in a terrible position and broke his leg directly under his hip. He was in the hospital for 34 days with a screw drilled completely through his knee that was used to hold his hip in position. He was in a body cast from the chest down for over eight weeks and had to go through months of being in a wheelchair and grueling physical therapy to be able to walk again. Now, almost 15 years later, my brother's legs are slightly different lengths (from the bones resetting differently), and he has some minor muscle problems as a result.

However, he was also named the best goalkeeper in our state last year and will likely move out of state to pursue his dream of playing soccer. I love him more than he'll ever know and more that I could ever express here. He's the smartest, most talented person I know, and I'm so proud of him. And it breaks my heart a little more every time I think about his childhood. I feel like I am to blame for the months of pain he had to endure. I'm crying from sadness and relief as I type this."

"The problem for me is my family. I'm married with one kid and another on the way. I believe that such a revelation would be devastating for my wife. I've tried to tell her in subtle ways but I can't bring myself to just come out and say the truth. I love my wife, and I don't wish to harm her emotionally in that way."

Responses have been edited for length/clarity.