Dating
The Art of Being Alone
When I first began my college journey I had nerves that crept through my spine up until it ached in my throat. I was out of my comfort zone but I felt a loneliness I wanted to escape from, a sadness, a need for being seen. Perhaps, I didn't realize this until now but my feelings of sadness seeped through and overtook my entire being. I was sad for the way my life wasn't fulfilling me. Unsure of what I wanted from it. Lost, dazed, and confused for most of my life. I didn't know why my feelings would be so harsh sometimes. I felt a nervousness every where I went, scared of the world around me. Mostly scared of relationships with people. I didn't want my heart to break over and over again. That feeling over took the core of my heart and pulled at my heart strings so hard sometimes I felt like I couldn't breathe. Yet, somehow you came a long and swept these fears away.
By Cerina Galvan5 months ago in Confessions
Ways To Nourish The Soul
No one matters. Children or young people out there, you will learn this later, but it's better to learn this now, is self-confidence. It does not matter what anyone thinks of you. What does matter is what your parents think of you, what your best friend only thinks of you, what your siblings think of you, and what you think of yourself. There's maybe like five people on that list. No one matters. Your happiness is in your own hands. You cannot get it from anywhere else. Only you have the power. Remember to be kind. Be the one that is the savior of the bullies. Be the one that is confident to go without makeup somewhere or didn't get time to dress up and go to a party. Enjoy the moment. Don't care about what you're wearing and who thinks what you are because I swear to God when you're older, you'll be like, what was I doing? You have your whole life to be a grown-up. Enjoy being young. Enjoy being silly. Enjoy not getting dressed and makeup. Spend time in nature. Take up a sport. You must play a sport, an instrument, and teach the adults who have missed out on that life because your adults did live that life, but they've also gotten into this Insta life and this like technological life. So you kids remind your parents, hey, come on, let's go to the beach. Let's go to the mountains. Let's do some nature activities. Go spend time in charities. Give your time to charity. Go to SOS village. Go give your time to underprivileged kids. These are all really nourishing for your soul and you will be so happy that you did this because at the end, peace and happiness is all you want. So find that within yourself and never care about what anyone thinks of you. Be kind, be honest, and have fun.
By Ibrahim Shah 5 months ago in Confessions
The Fool's progression (8). Content Warning.
As was his Sunday habit, Marc left for the gym around 10 AM, planning to stay out until early afternoon. Instead, he drove straight to Sabine’s house. The moment he rang the bell, she pulled him inside, throwing herself into his arms with heavy passion.
By CECILE HEBELLE6 months ago in Confessions
Misguided Help in a Tragic Relationship
The feud started when Breanna sent Whitney a message on Facebook. Whitney’s boyfriend, Sean, sent Breanna a message wanting to come to her house at 1:00 in the morning. Breanna told him “No, you have a girlfriend. Go spend time with her.” Sean failed to respond to Breanna’s message because it was not what he wanted to hear. However, that was the absolute last straw for Breanna. Her efforts to discourage Sean from sending her sexual messages and pursuing her had become futile. Breanna sent the message to Whitney that stated Sean was texting her and asking if he could come to her house at 1:00 in the morning. Breanna had already received a message from Whitney in the past and never responded because she did not want to get involved in their drama. However, she had reached the point where Sean obviously did not to care about his relationship with Whitney and was bold enough to pursue other women while he was in a relationship with her.
By Amy James6 months ago in Confessions
Did I Really Make it Worse?. Runner-Up in I Made It Worse Challenge.
July 15 (six weeks before the wedding) Today is my big sister’s birthday and I have a great present for her. She is going to be an aunt! Only my fiancé Eric knows, and we are going to break the news at the family dinner my parents are throwing for Emily. That is, I am going to break the news. Eric was not thrilled about the idea because he thinks the party should be about my sis, not our news.
By Lana V Lynx6 months ago in Confessions
I Asked to Know You
I Asked to Know You Not to Interrogate You I asked because I wanted to know you. That was it. Not the version you knew how to hand people. Not the easy one. Not the one that could laugh something off before it got too close. I wanted to know the real shape of you. So when you told me something about your childhood, I listened. And I asked. Not because I thought your answer was wrong. Not because I was checking your story for cracks. Not because I needed you to defend the life you survived. I asked because you had opened a door, and I thought being invited meant I was allowed to look around. I wanted to understand what made you careful. What made you flinch. What made certain words change your face. What made silence feel safer than being seen. But the more I asked, the farther away you went. I could see it happen. Your shoulders lifted. Your voice got sharp around the edges. Your eyes stopped meeting mine and started searching for the nearest exit. Suddenly, I was not someone trying to sit beside you in the memory. I was someone standing over it with a flashlight. You said I was judging you. I wasn’t. But I understand now that sometimes curiosity can sound cruel when it touches a place that still hurts. Sometimes a question is just a question. Sometimes it is a hand reaching. Sometimes it is a hand pressed against a bruise. I did not know which one you heard until you pulled away. So I tried to explain. That was where it got worse. I said, “I’m not judging you.” You heard, “You’re being defensive.” I said, “I’m just trying to understand.” You heard, “Explain yourself better.” I said, “I care.” You heard pressure. And then the conversation stopped being about your childhood, or your story, or whatever small truth had come loose between us. It became about my questions. My tone. My intention. Your reaction. The invisible courtroom neither one of us meant to build. I kept trying to tell you I was not interrogating you, but by then the word had already entered the room. It sat between us with its ugly little badge and notebook, making everything I said sound official. Making every pause feel recorded. Making every attempt to be gentle look like another tactic. I hated that. I hated being turned into the thing I was trying not to be. I hated watching your walls rise because my care had found the wrong language. I hated how fast closeness could become a threat. Because I did want to know you. Not as evidence. Not as a case study. Not as something broken to inspect. I wanted to know you the way a person knows another person when they are trying to love them correctly. I wanted the map because I did not want to step where it hurt. But you had already been stepped on so many times that even asking where the wound was felt like another foot coming down. I can see that now. I can see how my questions may have sounded less like invitation and more like demand. I can see how being known can feel dangerous when hiding was the first thing that ever kept you safe. Still, it hurt. Because I was not looking for a reason to think less of you. I was looking for the places you had been left alone too long. I was looking for the child behind the answer. I was looking for the truth beneath the armor. But you heard interrogation. And once you heard that, every question came with a siren. Every soft thing I said wore handcuffs. Every attempt to understand became another reason for you to protect yourself from me. Then you blew up. Not out of nowhere. I know that. People rarely explode from nowhere. They explode from all the places they were never allowed to make sound. But I was still standing there when it happened. I was still the one in front of you. So I became the wall the blast hit. I wanted to know you. Not interrogate you. But maybe that is how I made it worse: I thought wanting to understand someone would automatically feel like love. I forgot that for some people, being understood has always come right before being used. I forgot that a question can be innocent in one mouth and terrifying in one memory. I forgot that not every door that opens is asking me to walk through it. Some doors are only showing me they exist. Maybe next time, I will listen longer before I reach. Maybe next time, I will let the silence hold its shape. Maybe next time, I will ask less like I need the whole story and more like I am willing to stay even if I never get it. But I need this part to remain true, too: I was not trying to put you under a light. I was trying to meet you there. You heard interrogation. I meant tenderness. And somehow, that was the thing that made it worse.
By Tifani Power 6 months ago in Confessions
Your Bisexuality Is About To Expire. Winner in I Made It Worse Challenge.
I drop the door shut behind me and give the pile of sopping wet mail a hard flick, sending a shower of droplets onto the linoleum floor. I kick my wet loafers in front of the shoe rack, drop the flower bouquet onto the counter, and sigh.
By Aubrey Rebecca6 months ago in Confessions
