Humanity
Scrambled Eggs and Silence
The Year Was 1967 I was four years old. My world was small but crowded—my parents, my two little sisters barely out of babyhood, and me. We lived high above the street in a middle-class high-rise, fourteen floors up, trying to build a life like everyone else. Both my parents worked, which meant that, like so many families, we relied on a babysitter.
By Debbie's Reflection9 months ago in Confessions
A Confession: Why I Remained a Scammer
Life has been good. And the definition of good now is different from the definition of good a year ago. Good means enough sleep. Good means I don’t have to worry about being electrocuted or being beaten up. Good means I live without expectations.
By Evren T9 months ago in Confessions
Arrange a small business loan easily and responsibly up to 5000
What are the terms of our loans? Every great business starts with a dream — but not every dream has the financial support it needs at the right moment. At 5in5, we believe that every entrepreneur deserves a fair chance to grow, to build, and to succeed. That belief is the heart of our story.
By Press Release 10 months ago in Confessions
The Version of Me That Almost Was
I found the old notebook while cleaning, tucked behind things I no longer used but hadn’t thrown away. The cover was bent, the pages yellowed, the spine fragile from years of neglect. Inside was a version of me that felt both familiar and distant, like meeting an old friend whose face you recognize but whose life you no longer understand.
By Salman Writes10 months ago in Confessions
The Day I Stopped Refreshing the Page
The Day I Stopped Refreshing the Page For a long time, my mornings started the same way. Not with breakfast. Not with stretching or deep breaths or gratitude, like people on the internet suggest. My mornings started with refreshing a page.
By Salman Writes10 months ago in Confessions
The Kind of Tired Sleep Can’t Fix
I’m not tired in the way sleep can fix. I’ve tried that. Early nights. Late mornings. Power naps that turn into guilt. None of it touches this kind of exhaustion. It lives deeper, somewhere behind the eyes and under the ribs, where rest doesn’t reach. It’s not the kind of tired that fades with eight hours under a blanket—it’s the kind that lingers even after the alarm clock says I’ve had enough.
By Salman Writes10 months ago in Confessions
I Became Strong the Day No One Checked on Me
There’s a strange kind of silence that doesn’t come from being alone. It comes from realizing that people know you’re struggling and still choose not to ask. It’s not the absence of voices—it’s the absence of care. That silence is heavier than solitude, because it reminds you that you are visible, yet unseen.
By Salman Writes10 months ago in Confessions
Can You Survive Against All Odds?
I was talking with one of my ex-girlfriends recently, and she said something that I’d probably never understand. She said to me “You know how I can always talk to you and just communicate and feel that you really understand?”
By Ikechukwu Modungwo10 months ago in Confessions
