School
The Bus Stop Stranger
I was late—again. The rain was relentless, drumming against my umbrella like it was trying to shake me out of my fog. I had just left the office, soaked in more than just rain: burnout, boredom, and the dull ache of a life on autopilot. My job in digital marketing paid the bills, but it was eating me from the inside out.
By Khanabout a year ago in Confessions
Being Shy in a Loud World: What No One Sees. AI-Generated.
Being shy is not the same as being antisocial. It’s not that we don’t want to talk — it’s that sometimes we just don’t know how. In a world full of noise, social media, fast opinions, and constant eyes, being a reserved person can feel like being in the wrong place… all the time.
By The lastabout a year ago in Confessions
Every country gets the leaders it deserves
In the same way we are all a product of our environment, leaders are a direct reflection of the society that produces them. Even though this title might seem harsh, it is painfully true. Bad leaders do not sprout out of thin air, they are enabled, tolerated, promoted and sometimes celebrated by the very people who suffer under them. Let's talk about why this happens, how do bad leaders emerge in different societies and rise to power.
By real Jemaabout a year ago in Confessions
When Phones Were Not Our World: A Journey Back to Simpler Times
Remember the skies that stretched so wide, Where dreams would dance and hopes would glide, No screens to flicker, no buzzing calls, Just barefoot races down dusty halls. We built our castles in the sand, Held galaxies inside our hand, We laughed till dusk with skinned-up knees, And chased the whispers of the breeze. No stories snapped, no videos streamed, Only the laughter that brightly beamed, We shared our candies, traded dreams, Invented worlds by babbling streams. With sticks as swords, with crowns of mud, We fought great battles through field and flood, The puddles were oceans, the trees our forts, And every victory earned in sports. Our playgrounds stretched beyond the eye, No filters blurred the open sky, A cricket bat, a rubber ball, Defined our summers, one and all. We counted stars on sleeping nights, And shivered under northern lights, No urgent buzz, no flashing light, Just mother’s call to end the night. Bicycles whirred through village lanes, We raced the trains, outran the rains, Our cheeks were flushed, our spirits wild, Unbroken dreams of a fearless child. The simple joy of spinning tops, The endless thrill of candy shops, We waited weeks for fairs to come, To win cheap toys and chew on gum. We carved our names on schoolyard trees, We tied our dreams to floating leaves, The rivers whispered songs we knew, As barefoot, wild, we simply flew.Letters traveled from hand to hand, Promises sealed with grains of sand, No urgent emoji could replace, The warmth of touch, the smiling face. Sunsets meant a world of gold, Stories that the elders told, Tales of dragons, kings, and wars, Of sailing ships and wishing stars. Festivals lit the village square, With laughter heavy in the air, We danced to drums, we sang aloud, No live streams shared the buzzing crowd. Birthdays were a humble treat, Homemade sweets and little feats, No cake-cut posts, no trending news, Only heartfelt smiles to choose. We knew our neighbors, sang their names, Played barefoot cricket in rough games, Chalk on pavement, swing-set songs, We stitched our summers wild and long. When letters written by careful hands, Flew farther than these broadband lands, The ink would fade, but never die, Unlike the pixels we swipe by. No reels to post, no lives to stream, Only real laughter and shared dream, A friend's hug spoke more than a text, A moment lived, not second-guessed. Yet here we sit, with heads bowed low, Into our phones, we barely glow, The world outside, a whisper fades, While screens consume our sunny days. Close your eyes, and hear once more, The knock, the shout, the old front door, The giggle fit at foolish jokes, The muddy streams, the climbing oaks. Let’s find the children we have lost, Beyond the network's heavy cost, Let's build again those dreams we hurled, Back when phones were not our world.Start writing... 2 Remember the time, when the skies were wide, When laughter echoed, with nothing to hide, No glowing screens, no endless feed, Just open fields and childhood’s need. We chased the winds and climbed the trees, Built paper boats that sailed the seas, We ran with dreams on dusty roads, And carried laughter as our loads. No texts, no calls, no ringtones loud, Just shouting names across a crowd, A broken slipper, a playful fight, A streetlamp's glow our only light. We played with marbles, tops, and strings, Imagined castles, kings, and wings, We'd race the rains and dance in mud, While puddles splashed and heartbeats thud. Our bruises told a thousand tales, Of backyard forts and hidden trails, Of secret handshakes, secret codes, Of sun-kissed fields and endless roads. No selfies snapped, no double-tap, Just honest smiles and friendly clap, A pat on back, a playful shove, An endless stream of brotherly love. Evenings came with sunset hues, And tales our grandmas would infuse, Of fairy lands and talking trees, Of magical ships that sailed the seas. No apps, no snaps, no video calls, Just echo games through broken walls, We scribbled hearts on dusty ground, And twirled in circles round and round. When friendship bloomed without a screen, When love was pure, and eyes were keen, We wrote our letters slow and neat, And mailed them down the bustling street. We climbed the roofs, we touched the stars, We made believe the moon was ours, No GPS to guide our play, Just intuition led the way. Birthdays meant a homemade cake, A chorus loud enough to shake, No viral posts, no flashing lights, Just hugs that warmed the coldest nights. Summer vacations stretched so long, With cricket games and silly songs, Our hearts beat wild with simple joys, No gadgets needed for girls and boys. We flew our kites in open skies, Dreamt without a thousand tries, No filters masked our dirty cheeks, We proudly wore those scrapes for weeks. Skipping stones on lazy streams, Building forts in childhood dreams, We lived our lives in shades so bright, Without a charger through the night. Now here we are, with phones in hand, Lost in pixels, lost in sand, Tapping screens but losing touch, Missing the world we loved so much. Notifications steal our sleep, While memories grow buried deep, Our thumbs are fast, our hearts are slow, We've forgotten how to truly glow. So close your eyes, remember back, The muddy fields, the railway track, The laughter pure, the sunsets gold, The fearless dreams, the hands we’d hold. Let’s find that child we used to be, Beyond the walls of technology, Let’s run again with arms unfurled, Back to when phones were not our world.
By raj Ubaleabout a year ago in Confessions
The Price of Fragility
We live in an era where consumption isn’t just encouraged — it’s demanded. We are bombarded every day with products, content, distractions. We’ve been taught that to be happy, we simply need to buy something new, watch another show, consume one more ready-made experience. And without realizing it, we’ve drifted away from our true nature: to create, to think, to question.The result is everywhere. We are increasingly anxious, depressed, and apathetic. We've lost the spark in our eyes because we stopped building something that is truly ours, something that is born from within. Creativity — the vital spark of human existence — is being suffocated by the ease of prepackaged experiences. We’ve stopped imagining. We’ve stopped dreaming. We’ve become addicted to receiving, incapable of producing.
By Persephoneabout a year ago in Confessions
I Dated a Narcissist—Here’s What I Learned the Hard Way
Have you ever felt like you're losing your mind or stuck in a relationship that sucks the life out of you? I did, and it took me a while to see that I was with someone who had narcissistic tendencies.
By Wilson Igbasiabout a year ago in Confessions
The Letter I Sent, But Could Never Speak: A Confession of Love and Heartache
this is probably the only heartbreak love themed "thing" I believe I'll ever write. a few years back I wrote a letter to my crush. writing this was so strenuous as I got really emotional writing it. my heart actually felt painful and heavy when I mastered up the courage and sent him the letter. after all these years...I still don't have him . without further adeu this is what I wrote to him-
By E. hasan2 years ago in Confessions
The Billboard
I never thought what I learned in class could be so real. I never thought what Mr. Hannigan taught would ever be real. You see I thought school was just making your mark. I thought school was about getting a head start. Yup I John Henry never thought there was actual power in schooling. I would try to do the best because that's what my parents taught me. That's what I was trained to do since I was young. It was like my thing. It was my forestay.. I never knew the power of education. And yeah I was doing it for the women. I wanted to attract the smartest and best. Besides the most beautiful to me. Education was personal. So I excelled even with setbacks. And this was my life. This was my purpose especially in education. And I learned to be independent. I learned to take care of myself. I learned to be a man. And graduating was humbling and great. I love gracing the stage and being among my peers showing my academic achievement. I never thought much about health until Covid. I remember the Student Vice President saying that I caught the eyes of many with my outstanding academics in health. But that was all I know. I never knew that I would rise to ranks in health. I never really knew my impact. It was like more than what I expected. And I love to dream big. I love to think outside the box. I love to brainstorm. My entire education taught me that. And it inspired me to excel everyday in class. I would try to be the best without being a teacher's pet. I would rather be a favorite student who worked hard using his mind and nothing else. Again Covid brought out something in me that I never thought. It brought our all my training and education. It made me think hard and a lot about my background. It inspired to join the task force. I had to tell the Governor what I learned. Especially since I excelled at health administration and liberal arts. I knew the methods they just suddenly came back to me. All of sudden, speaking to other governors in the association and having an influence on the direction of the health crisis. And even after it was resolved I still felt obligated to do more. Like I said Covid would be like the flu shot. So I was determined to fight for vaccines. To fight that we should keep them . To fight that we should make them known. After all vaccines do a lot for community is what I learned from genetics. Vaccines can make or break a society. So I kept up the fight even after Covid, I told my followers get both flu shot and vaccine. I did one in each arm. Because I believe in vaccines, I believe in science. In fact that was my specialty, I was noted as a Esteemed Scientist by the Union of Concerned Scientists. So I did it over and over again, shown it is okay to get a vaccine. And one day it happened. I became a unspoken hero for vaccines. I was recognized with this billboard in my hometown. And many say it looked like me, and I have the picture to prove it. I am glad at the change that is at hand. I did it for the people. I did it for my teachers and professors. I did it for my family. For everyone who believe in science. For everyone who loves living. And I hope that future generations would see that. And embraced that and become apart of the ideology of helping their community thrive and survive with science.
By Distinguished Honorary Alumni Dr. Matthew Primous2 years ago in Confessions
I Found a Breakup Letter in My Coat Pocket — and It Was Addressed to Me
It had been almost a year since we ended things. No big fight. No dramatic walkout. Just silence. A slow fade-out. Like a movie you keep watching, even when the credits are already rolling.
By Ishaq Ahmadzai 2 years ago in Confessions
The Dangerous Lover
(Dark Romance - Part 7) "This is what true love really is, Neela. This is what a sacred relationship looks like. The fact that you still feel this way proves that you were truly Shraban's wife. And from what I’ve seen, that boy loves you madly," said Neela’s mother.
By Sabiha Sums2 years ago in Confessions
