We often tend to make decisions for our own personal benefit. What we often do not realize is how crucial of an effect a decision of ours can have on someone else. Sometimes it can be too late before we realize our mistake.
These people have been through such experiences that have since plagued them with remorse. As shared on Reddit, these are their stories.
(Content has been edited for clarity).
He took his own life less than two weeks after that.
We dated for a long while after that, but the way she talked about him changed completely, so some of the things I had said about him were most likely untrue. He took his own life, but I'm sure I made things crappy for him leading up to it."
"To start things off, I should say that I am a straight male and the incidents occurred during freshman year of college at a top-20 private university (not Ivy, but close). I met this guy, who I'll just call 'Ben' for anonymity's sake, during my first week there. He lived down the hall from me at my dorm. He seemed normal enough as I had the naive assumption that, because the university was so hard to get into, all of the kids there had a pretty sound mind.
However, things got strange with this kid quickly. First of all, I noticed his large assortment of prescription medicines. I did not want to pry as to what ailment he had, but his eyelids were always half-shut. He always had a mildly stoned expression and chuckled a lot. He was obsessed with working out and fitness and would often be seen doing jumping jacks outside of the dorm in the wee hours of the morning.
Unfortunately, this kid became quite obsessed with me. It was kind of scary. Our dorm was community-based and my roommates would often leave the door open. Often, I would come home from class to find Ben sleeping in my bed. He would do things like find me in the library where I was studying and demand a lot of my time. At first, I was a bit annoyed by this, but I tried to be friendly.
Things got weird once I started seeing a girl. Ben, supposedly, had a long-distance girlfriend at home. I thought he was straight, but he often hung out with other gay students in my dorm. I didn't make much of it, as they were nice guys with other straight male friends. However, Ben would become enraged that I spent time with my girlfriend. If I went out with her, he would write me long, profanity-laced emails telling me how big of a piece of crap I was. I started considering letting my resident assistant know about this but did not want to cause a fuss. The behavior, however, just became odder.
I would constantly tell him not to go into my room when I wasn't there, but he would always go in and tamper with my stuff. I would continually find him asleep in my bed after class. The week when I finally reported him, he had slipped a sleeping pill into my soda and started peering in on me in the bathroom as I was using it. The final straw was when he walked in on me as I was showering and tried to touch my junk. I had to punch him in the chest to get him to back off. felt odd about doing it, but I finally reported him to my RA.
I didn't know exactly what would happen as a result of this, but the university has a zero-tolerance policy on harassment. He was forced to move to another dorm. I thought that things would just resolve themselves and that the both of us would move on with our lives.
But, it just got even weirder. Not even a week after moving out, he was found standing out on the ledge of his window threatening to take his life. He did not jump, thank goodness, but his parents were informed. They finally withdrew him from the university. I never saw him again as he never came back to the university, at least not in the four years I was there. To be honest, I didn't feel bad for him. I was glad that he went home because he really creeped me out and it sounded like he had some issues he needed to sort out."
"I'm pretty sure I got a gas station attendant fired when I accidentally sprayed several gallons of gasoline all over myself, my car, the ground, and him. I was a fairly new driver and I convinced him that I could pump it myself. In Oregon, the attendant must do it.
My car tank was finicky and the handle got stuck. When I tried to pull out the nozzle, gasoline went shooting everywhere. His eyes, my eyes, our clothes were all drenched in gasoline. After flushing out our eyes with water in the bathroom sink, I had to sign a piece of paper that said that it was my fault. He probably got fired anyway. I still feel so bad and embarrassed about it.
Goodness, I've never told anyone about that incident. I need a drink."