Dating

An Open Letter to my Ex
There’s so much to say, I don’t know where to start. So I guess I’ll just pick a spot and jump. I think about you sometimes, but not in the way you’re probably imagining. You see, I still have the tattoo. I’m working on having it covered, but, for now, it’s there, just like I thought you’d be. I see it in the mirror and I can’t help but wonder about you.
By Courtney Johnsonabout a year ago in Confessions
If You Dream of Being a Writer, Maybe Read This First, Okay?
You need to get a job, she says. It’s a tired old conversation but she thinks she’s right. So she’s going to keep bringing it up again and again. For my own good, of course.
By Olivia Chastityabout a year ago in Confessions
The Beauty in the Bruises
Some wounds don’t bleed they bruise. Quietly. Deeply. You carry them in the way your smile falters at the edge. In the way you hesitate before trusting. In the way you shrink, just a little, when someone gets too close. I used to think healing meant hiding those bruises, pretending they weren’t there. But now I know: sometimes the most beautiful parts of us are born in the aftermath not in spite of the pain, but because of it. There was a time I felt like a stranger in my own skin. Every morning, I woke up heavy, carrying yesterday’s sorrow into today. My smiles were borrowedmore a habit than a feeling. I laughed, but the sound rarely reached my eyes. People told me I was strong, but they never saw the battles raging beneath my calm exterior. The loudest pain, I learned, is often the one that doesn’t make a sound. It was on my birthday a day meant for celebration that something shifted inside me. I was scrolling through a bookstore app, numbing myself with distractions, when I stumbled upon three journals by Nina Madsen on sale. Ninety-nine cents each. I bought them without thinking. Or maybe I did think maybe it was hope in disguise. The first journal prompt stopped me cold: “How might a painting of your life look?” I stared at the blank page, unsure. Then, an image came slowly to life: a girl holding her head, surrounded by bruised blues, purples, and blacks. The background was a storm of pinks and blacks. Behind her, a phoenix rose streaks of gold and silver breaking through the darkness. That girl was me. For the first time, I didn’t try to erase the mess. I sat with it. I honored it. That painting wasn’t tragic it was true. It was survival in color. Each prompt pulled more from me words I’d buried, truths I’d swallowed. I wrote not as a writer, but as someone learning to breathe again. The journal became my confessional, my sanctuary. The page never judged me. It held space when the world didn’t. I wrote about how I treat others with softness now, not because I’ve never known cruelty but because I have. I know what it’s like to feel invisible, forgotten, alone. I promised myself I would never let another person feel that way if I could help it. There’s a line from a song by HONESTAV that echoes in my mind: "And I don’t want no new friends, my heart’s still got bruises."
By Wilfredabout a year ago in Confessions
I Ignored Every Red Flag — Until It Was Too Late
When I first met him, he seemed perfect. Kind, funny, ambitious — everything I thought I was looking for. We met through a mutual friend at a party, and I remember how his eyes lit up when he talked about his goals. I was drawn in instantly. It felt like the universe had finally sent someone just for me.
By MR REDabout a year ago in Confessions
In Between Us
Seven months had passed. Not a short time, yet it felt like it slipped by unnoticed. And still, she often found herself asking, “How did we even get this close?” It was something she never saw coming, something far beyond her expectations.
By Aqeela Izma Rashidaabout a year ago in Confessions
Crimson Pursuit
Prologue The city never sleeps, and tonight, neither does danger. Neon lights flicker over rain-slicked streets as a sleek black motorcycle roars through the alleyways, its rider a shadow against the chaos. The chase has been relentless a game of cat and mouse between two worlds, between trust and treachery.
By MOHAMMED NAZIM HOSSAINabout a year ago in Confessions
Dealing with a breakup.
I didn’t realise how loud silence could be until the messages stopped. No good mornings. No updates. No comfort at the end of the day. Just me—and the weight of everything unsaid.
By Anjeli about a year ago in Confessions
The Love Letter That Found Me Years Too Late
It was supposed to be a quick visit. Just a few days back in my childhood home to help Mom pack things up after Dad passed. Nothing emotional, nothing too heavy.
By Muhammad Sabeelabout a year ago in Confessions
Canvas Of Us
First things first: My name’s Aria, and art basically runs through my veins—like, if you cut me, I swear paint might drip out. My mom was this brilliant painter who had her own little place in the art scene. She wasn’t super famous or anything, but in our family, she was basically a legend. And when she passed away two years ago, it felt like I lost not just a parent but also the one person who truly got me.
By Lena Jhonsonabout a year ago in Confessions
The Homecoming : Part 1
Oh my gosh, babe, where do I even begin? Picture me—Venice Lawson, a tall-ish glass of latte-brown fabulousness (if I do say so myself)—stepping off this tiny little commuter plane onto the tarmac at our dinky local airport, looking all chic in my navy pantsuit and bright pink heels. My hair’s pinned back into a sleek ponytail, makeup on point, and I’m juggling three big-city suitcases while scanning the crowd for the one person I’d both dreaded and longed to see again: my best friend (and first big heartbreak), Donna. ( Lesbian Romantic Story)
By Lena Jhonsonabout a year ago in Confessions
Love In The Fire Station
Okay, babe, buckle up because this story is about to get real. I’m Judy, and yes, I’m that girl—the one with bright highlights in her hair, a serious lip gloss addiction, and an unapologetically fierce attitude. I’ve always believed in looking good and feeling good, honey, whether I’m out shopping for the latest chunky sneakers or barreling into a burning building. But let me tell you how my world got turned upside-down by one stunning woman named Athena and how our secret love affair in the fire station nearly set my whole life ablaze—in the best and scariest way possible (Lesbian Romance Story)
By Lena Jhonsonabout a year ago in Confessions
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By amanabout a year ago in Confessions