Humanity
She Sold Her Last Memory⊠to Save a Life. Content Warning.
She sold her fatherâs watch for forty dollars⊠and that still wasnât enough to save her mother. The watch had been the only thing left of him. Old, scratched, barely tickingâjust like the fragile life they were trying to hold together. But when the doctor said, âYou need the money by tomorrow,â memories became a luxury she could no longer afford.
By Heart Touching Stories7 months ago in Confessions
âTicking time bombâ
Everyone called me âstrong.â They had no idea I was about to explode. And when I did⊠it wouldnât just destroy me. I used to be the kind of person people admired. Good grades, calm behavior, always smiling. Teachers trusted me. Friends depended on me. Even at home, I was the âperfect son.â But no one ever asked me if I was okay.
By STORY LINE7 months ago in Confessions
âEveryone Thought I Was Strong⊠I Was Just a Ticking Time Bombâ
Everyone called me âstrong.â They had no idea I was about to explode. And when I did⊠it wouldnât just destroy me. I used to be the kind of person people admired. Good grades, calm behavior, always smiling. Teachers trusted me. Friends depended on me. Even at home, I was the âperfect son.â But no one ever asked me if I was okay.
By imtiazalam7 months ago in Confessions
The Quiet pressure Of Trying To Figure Your Life Out
Nobody talks about the kind of pressure that exists. It is not caused by people yelling at you. It is not caused by obligations or deadlines. It comes quietly. It sits in your mind. each and every day. The stress of trying to figure out your life. When you get up in the morning, it is already there, even before you check your phone or get out of bed. That whisper that asks you questions to which you may or may not have an answer. "What do I want to do with my life?" "Am I doing the right thing?" Why is everything so hazy to me? And here's the truth: You donât always know. Sometimes you try to ignore it. Your phone serves as a distraction. by having conversations. with activities at random. However, it always returns. Quietly. because you know deep down that it matters. People are moving forward as you look around. People achieving things.people who appear to be in control. After that, you examine your own self. Youâre trying.You are in fact. But somehow, it still feels like youâre not doing enough. It's a heavy feeling. Because itâs not just about where you are. It all comes down to where you think you should be. You begin mentally creating timelines. "At this age, I ought to have figured this out." "By this time, I ought to be more stable," "I ought to be doing better than this," he says. And when your experience falls short of those expectations... The pressure grows. Even when you're lying down... It is still present. Your thoughts wander as you watch a movie. A part of you is still thinking even though you're laughing at something. Youâre trying to relax, but something inside you keeps reminding you of everything you havenât figured out yet.And slowlyâŠRest stops feeling like rest. It begins to feel like guilt. Guilt for not doing more.regret over not being more Guilt for not having everything together.And that guilt can be exhausting.Because it follows you everywhere.But hereâs something no one really tells you.You are not the only one feeling this way.A lot of people you think âhave it all figured outââŠ
By Charmer Devi7 months ago in Confessions
Some More Thoughts On My Writing Difficulties
Introduction Although I publish a lot on Vocal I do have difficulties in writing, and this generates a lot of anxiety in me. I am lucky enough to be able to pull ideas and subjects almost out of the ether, to actually create a Vocal story, while I never seem to hit a writer's block I do seem to continually have the anxiety that goes with that.
By Mike Singleton đ Mikeydred 7 months ago in Confessions
THE GOLDEN AGE GLITCH: Trump's Own Derangement Syndrome
It started with the pens. Obamaâs pens. Gold-plated, slender, "diplomatic" pens that looked like they belonged in a museum for losers. When I sat down at that Resolute Desk, I could still smell the faint scent of Dijon Mustard and compromise lingering in the drawers. He had signed the JCPOA--the "Worst Deal in History," a total disaster, a real low-energy document--with one of those pens. I knew right then, if I was going to fix the world, I had to rip that paper into so many pieces it looked like confetti at one of my political rallies... I have the biggest rallies.
By Meko James 7 months ago in Confessions
I Wasnât Supposed to Survive That Night: The Moment Everything Changed
There are nights that pass quietly, slipping into memory without leaving a trace. And then there are nights that change everythingânights that refuse to be forgotten no matter how hard you try.
By Story Prism7 months ago in Confessions
