Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Confessions.
How To Be Yours - Self Love
Understanding how to love yourself can be challenging, like a thousand scattered pieces of a puzzle, and just like the scattered pieces of the puzzle, a person must start with what they know. This journey may feel frustrating at times, maybe even impossible or overwhelming but this is where self-compassion comes into play. In one of my favorite songs, “How To Be Yours”, by Chris Renzema, he sings about how he does not know how to love himself but desires to be loved by himself. He refers to himself as an orphan without a home. Every time I listen to this song, it takes me into a mental forest of thought. I resonate with the lyrics because I have experienced many of these emotions. When I began my journey to build my identity I did not know where to start. I asked myself questions such as, “who am I?”,“Where do I belong”, and “Am I worthy?”. Although I have found my identity, songs like these unlock a paradigm shift in the way I see myself and others, creating a desire inside of me to help others understand who they are. From the moment this song begins, I begin my journey through my mental forest where I consume food for thought and wholeheartedly relate to the lyrics.
By Self GDM3 years ago in Confessions
Learning to Love My Blackness.
My parents never really taught me much about what it meant to be Black in the world, specifically what it meant to be Black in America; I grew up in a predominately white church, had (mostly) white friends, was continuously surrounded by white kids in school and overall just never really recognized my own Blackness as a kid.
By dia ☁️3 years ago in Confessions
Me and My Best Friend Were Sugarbabies
When I was a sugar baby last year, I invited my friend Ally to do some meets with me since I knew she was struggling financially and I needed someone to help my anxiety since I was just starting out myself. We did two meets together, the first was uneventful, the guy actually left before doing anything. The second, is the one I am going to talk about today.
By Cassie3 years ago in Confessions
When Revulsion Eclipses Humiliation
Oh no. I had been lying in bed, savoring that precious few moments before the torment of the third-and-final snooze alarm set in. Following the second, I had been unable to return to the land of slumber, thinking about the day’s busy itinerary; in two hours, we would be on our way to sunny Bermuda.
By Karin Kaltofen3 years ago in Confessions
It Happened Again
It happened again. If you remember my article about being left in parking lots, you'll know I've been put into some sticky situations. Well the other day, after weeks of convincing, I did an outcall just to be abandoned outside of a apartment building thirty minutes from where I live, in the middle of the night.
By Cassie3 years ago in Confessions
Numbers Never Looked Right to Me
I always had a problem with mathematics since I was about four or six years old. I went through one of those quick school IQ tests to see where I excelled and where I needed help. I got help for comprehension because I had some trouble reading and following directions, my teacher said I need specifics or I ended up confused but that didn't last long. The main issue that I had was with numbers, I couldn't process the basics without some assistance and still couldn't count from ten without using my fingers. This was in elementary school, so as grew older I thought the problems would cease but it never did.
By Billie3 years ago in Confessions
You Can't Poke Fun at Cancer
I had heard the spiel before, though the miles of paperwork and intricate details of the treatment plan were, admittedly, rather new. Frankly, I had been told all I needed to know. I had Breast Cancer, stage two or three, and it was invasive ductal carcinoma with multiple affected lymph nodes, or something to that effect. At age 33, with a nursing one year old daughter and two other children ages five and three, that was more than enough to process at the time. I had spent the requisite hours in a sobbing puddle of mess and had reconciled with whatever treatment would entail: hair loss, sickness, double mastectomy, scars. Regardless of what else was in store, I had finished processing to the extent I was able. In fact, it had taken some convincing by my first doctor, for me to believe I had anything but some “cheese curds plugging my milk ducts.” It was one of my jokes, that he had most decidedly not laughed at. Honestly, the poor young surgeon looked like he might cry and that was what hit me like a punch in the gut. How serious does breast cancer have to be, for your small town general surgeon to be in tears? That was the beginning of a dizzying spiral into the abyss of panic.
By Julie Courtney3 years ago in Confessions
Funny Sexy Times
He was hilarious. Just a natural-born comedian, he consistently made my cheeks ache from laughter. I had my funny moments too. Because of that, we connected immediately. I looked forward to seeing him when I arrived at my internship and eagerly anticipated our entertaining lunches together. His humor made me feel good, and who doesn’t want to feel good?
By Robin Jessie-Green3 years ago in Confessions
The struggle of fitting in
If there’s one place in the world I hated being it would’ve been middle school. It’s like the hormone breeding ground for pre pubescent teenagers and the awkward right before high school stages. Like in every early coming of age teen movie I’ve seen there are always cliques. You’ve got the popular girls, the jocks, the brainiacs and then there’s me. I was an outcast. Never really fit in anywhere and always the new kid. It sucked. I’d attended a summer camp before the school year had started. That’s when I saw him. A boy shrouded with a group of girls. I’d never thought I’d see him again; oh boy was I wrong. Not only did I see him again but we had classes together. Remember that for later on. His name was Jack. When I saw Jack for the first time it was at Scicon but it was brief and I had an instant crush on him kind of like how you see someone in an airport or on a bus but you never see them again. We had the same PE period and teacher so naturally I ran into him often and I was always flustered. One day for pe we had to play soccer. Back then I really wanted to be on the soccer team so I thought I was a prodigy. We were divided onto teams and started our game. One of his teammates passed him the ball and I ran to get the ball so I could score a goal. I almost had it but we ended up going different directions so I kicked him on the shin directly above the part of the lower leg where his leg and foot connected. After the game was over and before we had to go back to the locker room to change he confronted me about it in front of the whole team. I saw a huge red mark from where I kicked him and I apologized. Embarrassed, I dredged back to the locker room with my head hung low in shame to change my clothes for next period. In my defense the shoes I had on were not running shoes. I sat in my next class replaying what had happened and got embarrassed all over again. After the period was over I met my friend for lunch and told her about it. She was the only friend I had. She was shocked because we all had the same pe period but we were on different teams. She didn’t laugh at me and knew I liked him so she just made sure I was ok. After I told her we had a good laugh about it. The last period of the day was english. This was the only other period where he and I had the same class. It was english and we were sitting at the same group of four desks with two other people. I was still embarrassed about what happened a few hours prior so I couldn’t look up at him. When we finally acknowledged each other and I apologized for kicking him he kind of laughed it off and said it was ok. I had never spoken to him before that encounter. He was actually really nice. We talked about the writing assignment we had to do for class to kind of break the ice. He was surprised to see that I was almost done with my paper in its entirety despite having a blank piece of paper at the start of the period. Writing fiction stories was the only thing I was good at. I remember the whole day in great detail and smiling like an idiot the whole walk home.
By Kemaini3 years ago in Confessions
Silenced by Society
I have always been told that I need to "conform" in order to be more palatable. I received this advice as "minimize who you are so that others can accept you." What if acceptance is not what one seeks? What if I simply prefer to be who I was created to be; unapologetically me! You see I was born in the 80s which was an interesting time to be created. I was raised in the 90s which was the era of expression, creativity, individuality and less judgement. Flash forward to 2021 and it seems that majority of people want you to tiptoe around your true feelings and ONLY express what is pleasing to the majority of society. On the one hand we live in an era where things that were typically frowned upon are now highly accepted and encouraged. "Be You" is what they scream from the rooftops while simultaneously silencing those who stand firm in their beliefs. They say "accept people for who they are" while also saying "hey don't say that you may hurt feelings!" So my question is which one is it? You can't have it both ways. One who wants to be accepted must also learn to accept that which may go against their choices/preferences; why can't both types of people exist? Why do I have to think like you in order to be liked and understood? What ever happened to agreeing to disagree? Why can't you see a white dress and I see the gold one and we BOTH be right? Is it absolutely necessary for people to agree with you in order for you to be comfortable in YOUR OWN SKIN? Since when did it become the job of others to make US happy? Happiness comes from within right or is that just a cute little cliche? How long will those who oppose certain things be silenced by society before eventually losing their own voice? In the end; whose right and who's wrong? Can both not co-exist?
By Lelelapoete Speaks3 years ago in Confessions
Two Lies and a Truth
A Lie: me to me When someone asks me what keeps me up at night, what mistake from the past will haunt me till my dying day, what cringe cannot be undone, the moment that comes to mind is when I pretended someone else's writing was mine.
By yanina maysonet3 years ago in Confessions