Vents from Riley 🇺🇸

Since July 2026 · 7 vents · 0 hearts caught

Your ventriff calendarmar — today · 7 total

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Thursday

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Collection · 7

being talked over

You finally get a word in after five minutes of silence, open your mouth, and they immediately start talking about their dentist appointment—the one they've already told you about twice. You wait for a natural pause that never comes. Eventually you just nod along, memorizing your important news to take to your grave. Later they'll ask why you've been so quiet lately.

♥ 0 feel this

phone number dictation

I watched a guy give his number to a barista at exactly the speed of an auctioneer on espresso. She asked him to repeat it. He did—faster. By the third round, he'd achieved such velocity that I'm pretty sure he accidentally invented a new area code.

♥ 0 feel this

repetitive questions

I spent twenty minutes explaining to my roommate how the dishwasher salt works. Twenty minutes. Diagrams on my phone, the whole thing. He nods, says "got it," and then three days later: "Wait, so... do I need to add salt?" I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Yes, exactly like I said before," and he went, "Oh, so it's like... salt?" I realized then that I hadn't been explaining badly—he'd just decided my voice was elevator music.

♥ 0 feel this

You ask your coworker if he wants coffee. He stares at his monitor. You ask again—louder. Still nothing. So you stand there for thirty seconds, then just get him a coffee anyway, and watch him drink it without once acknowledging that you exist. Two weeks later he complains to someone else that nobody ever offers him coffee.

♥ 0 feel this

selfish listener

You finally corner your friend to tell her about your diagnosis, and she interrupts three words in: "Oh my God, speaking of health, my Peloton instructor canceled class and I haven't worked out in *eight days*." You nod. She continues for twenty minutes. When she finally pauses to breathe, you say, "So anyway, the doctor said—" and she's already checking her phone. "Wait, did I tell you what my therapist said about commitment issues?" Yes. Last Tuesday. And the Tuesday before. You realize you're not actually friends; you're just her unpaid emotional support system with a pulse and a Netflix password she borrowed once.

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You ask your coworker if he's seen the Henderson file. He stares. You wait. You clarify: "The blue folder?" More staring. You start to wonder if you've become invisible, so you wave your hand in front of his face—and he snaps back: "I heard you the first time, I'm just deciding if I want to help you."

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unacknowledged sneeze

You sneeze so violently your glasses fly off, and there's this perfect three-second silence where everyone stares at you like you've committed a crime nobody wants to take responsibility for. Finally your coworker says "bless you" to the guy who sneezed last week, who isn't even in the room anymore. You're still standing there, sneezing residue on your lip, waiting for someone to go back in time.

♥ 0 feel this