Bad habits
The Secret Hidden From The World
The island was shrouded in mist, its secrets hidden from the world. But when Emma stumbled upon an old map, she knew she had to explore its shores. As she wandered through the island's lush forests, she discovered lost treasures from throughout history: a Viking's sword, a Victorian-era parasol, a pair of Converse sneakers. Each object told a story, and Emma felt like she was unraveling the threads of time.
By Tariq Pathan about a year ago in Confessions
Confessions of a Former Alcoholic Part 4
People need to be guided towards healthy habits regularly rather than using addictive products again. I'm almost at that point now. My life was great when I didn't drink alcohol 3 years ago, and now I attribute it to stress. It's not the stress from my job, but the toxic behavior and overreactions of my elders.
By TheNaethabout a year ago in Confessions
Chapter 36: Drug Dealers Are People Too. Content Warning.
I was deep in the throes of active addiction when I moved into the 1 bedroom in Prospect-Lefferts. Getting my shit was tricky, and I often took “lunch” at work to Uber it back to my old place and see Brenda. I still had Joe, but he became stolidly cash-only. It wasn’t long before I established 2 new connects in the neighborhood and was getting drugs on consignment again—and running up several-thousand-dollar tabs.
By DB Maddoxabout a year ago in Confessions
Chapter 18: Toughening Up. Content Warning.
I had been with Rosemont Publishing, a small academic outfit in bumfuck NJ and my first job out of school, for about a year when my colleague and object of lust, Ben, found a new job. I must have applied for a job with the same company without realizing who they were because one day I came back to my apartment in Highland Park and discovered a message on my answering machine for an Editor position with LexisNexis. It took me a few conversations with Ben to realize it was the same place he was going.
By DB Maddoxabout a year ago in Confessions
Confessions of a Former Alcoholic Part 3
I reminded them in earlier writings that I had studied the negative consequences of drinking and my spy activities. When someone is positive about someone they meet, they usually betray their best partner right away. I only exhibit affection to animals because of this, but I would never betray someone I trust.
By TheNaethabout a year ago in Confessions
Is Masturbation a Sin?. Content Warning.
Masturbation is a topic that stirs up a lot of debate, especially within religious circles. Many people wonder if it's something that goes against their faith. The Bible doesn't explicitly mention masturbation, which complicates the discussion.
By Thakur Sabout a year ago in Confessions
Fair Travel
Most people dream of traveling, some are commissioned to travel, and others are born to travel. Whatever category you fall under, we're all responsible for being fair and respectful during our travels. This may be considered a common concept to some; however, to others, this is a far reach to achieve. I've been traveling across the world for over 15 years, and it never ceases to amaze me the gall some people have when visiting another country. I suspect that if you never learn humility or the basics of human respect from either your family or school, it's difficult to acquire or display the characteristics of a noble soul. I wrote a blog post 10 years ago about this topic, and it seems humanity is not improving, more specifically, people from the West. Now, before I get too many boos and hisses, I grew up in North America, so I have credibility when it comes to knowing Western culture, and I am not leaving out bad actors from the East either. I will have to say, compared to the rest of the world, Western culture is one of the most abrasive and unyielding. I don't know why the erragance persists, I just wish it would stop or at least decrease. We're in 2025, and people still haven't learned diplomacy and tolerance.
By Char Chaseabout a year ago in Confessions
Confessions of a Former Alcoholic Part 2
These days, I am in a position to maintain my sobriety in general. Having a large level of self-control is required in order to engage in activities such as writing and serious hobbies. Deals are made in an atmosphere where alcohol is prevalent, particularly in the business sector, in order to weaken the willpower of business people. However, I am aware that now I want to avoid going to bars as much as possible.
By TheNaethabout a year ago in Confessions
The Silence I Inherited
In the country where I currently live, the world often feels upside down. Every day brings a fresh dose of absurdity. People drive recklessly, drunk and unaware of consequences. Laws seem like mere suggestions, and the streets are filled with chaos. I don’t engage with much of it—I stay away. I have learned to withdraw, to protect my peace by limiting my contact with others.
By Saeed Ullah about a year ago in Confessions
“When Silence Echoes Between Us”
It’s strange how, after all this time, my mind still drifts back to you. Not daily. Not intensely. But enough to make me stop and wonder: Why now? Why still? By any logic, I shouldn’t be having these feelings. We haven't spoken in well over a year. We parted ways on terms so fractured that it was almost a relief to stop trying. And yet, here I am — remembering. Our last words weren’t exactly kind. If anything, they were laced with exhaustion. Not rage. Just a tired sort of detachment that signaled we had finally run out of fuel. And maybe, that was for the best. Still, some part of me replays those days. Quietly. Without meaning to. I know I’m better off. That much is clear. What we had — if it can even be called that — wasn’t healthy. Our connection was riddled with chaos, unspoken power games, and a constant undercurrent of discomfort. There was always this sense that I was walking on a ledge. One misstep, and I’d fall into an argument, a cold shoulder, or worse — silence. You always had more power. More influence. More say. Even when I spoke up, it felt like speaking into a tunnel where my words returned to me distorted and hollow. I gave too much. You took too easily. And no, you didn’t abuse me. But you didn’t respect boundaries either. Trust was a weapon in your hands. You never held it with care. The very things I confided in you — the vulnerable, trembling pieces of my inner world — were thrown back at me during disagreements. Used as reminders of my weaknesses. I remember the early days. It took less than a week for warning signs to show. Little things. Thoughtlessness. Inconsistencies. A coolness when I needed warmth. I ignored them — as we so often do when we want something to work. When we believe someone could be good for us. Red flags followed. Slowly. Surely. I started to see how little you actually listened. How you made everything a transaction. I called you out, but I didn’t let go. I should have. But I didn’t. Looking back now, I stayed far past the expiration date. By the time I walked away, it was no longer a decision — it was survival. You had taken up too much space in my mind. You weren’t actively there anymore, but your shadow lingered. The damage had already been done. But here's the part I don’t want to admit: I still think about you. It’s not longing. It’s not even regret. It’s… a weird, quiet ache. A part of me misses how bizarre and unpredictable our bond was. Like something you know you shouldn't touch, but you do anyway — just to feel something. There were moments, rare and fleeting, where our conversations felt electric. Where I could pretend, even briefly, that we had something special. That’s the part that haunts me. Sometimes, I wonder if we’ll ever run into each other again. Not dramatically. Not fate-driven. Just… maybe, someday. At a coffee shop. Or in some corner of the internet. Will we say anything? Will we look away? Will there be silence or a nod? I’ve checked your profiles. Not often. Just sometimes. I’ve seen traces of myself — my words, my creations — echoed there. Not always kindly. Sometimes, mockingly. But you didn’t forget me. That much is clear. I doubt you think about me as much as I think about you. You have your own world now. New pursuits. New responsibilities. A life far removed from our old connection. And that’s good. You needed it. I needed it too. But if we ever cross paths again, I won’t be the same. I won’t shrink myself for your comfort. I won’t try to please. I won’t hand over trust without reason. I’ve learned — painfully, deeply — how to hold myself with more care. I’m not waiting. I’m not hoping. But I’m not denying either. The past doesn’t disappear. It lingers. It echoes. This isn’t a plea. It’s not an open door. It’s just an acknowledgment. Of something that once was. Of someone I once knew. Of a version of me that existed in your presence — and had to leave to survive.
By Saeed Ullah about a year ago in Confessions
