Secrets
The Story I Never Thought I’d Tell: I Survived a Love-Bomber
Sitting on my shower floor with scalding hot water washing over my shivering body, I sob, listening to a new album by one of my favorite artists that has inspired this essay, as I’ve had to build my wall so high I didn’t think anyone could actually climb it, until someone did.
By Ash Ylvisaker11 months ago in Confessions
Word of the Day: 軽食
Queen Amun Ra is warning me about family members speaking ill of me, and Lynn did a Libra reading just now.. I guess that is my niece then... She is probably talking shit about me. Or it could be my other niece since... There is a connection between Lynn and Queen that needs to be acknowledged that would connect it to her as well. I am not too worried, I am interpreting as a sort of scout warning.
By Kayla McIntosh11 months ago in Confessions
Daughter of Depression. Content Warning.
Hi everyone. This is another late-night outpouring, a quiet attempt to soothe my anxiety and ease the discomfort that sits inside me. I write because sometimes it’s the only thing that helps me calm down and make sense of what I feel. I’ve tried everything—five years of psychiatric treatment, two uninterrupted years of therapy. Some things have improved, others haven’t. The thoughts remain present, lingering like a shadow, and the feelings stay too. I’m tired of trying, and yet I don’t give up. I keep going.
By Spydesing11 months ago in Confessions
I’m Not Proud of Who I Was
There are people who say they have no regrets, that everything they’ve done has shaped who they are. I wish I could say that. I wish I could pretend every version of me was necessary—every mistake, every lie, every selfish choice. But the truth is simpler, quieter, and harder to swallow: I’m not proud of who I was. For a long time, I lived as if consequences were rumors. As if hurting others would never echo back to me. As if surviving meant stepping over anyone who got too close. I wasn’t cruel in loud ways—no dramatic betrayals, no grand explosions. My damage was subtle. I hurt people quietly. I pushed them away gently. I disappointed them repeatedly. And because my wounds were invisible, I thought they didn’t count. But they did. God, they did. When I look back at that version of myself—the one who hid behind excuses and avoided accountability—I don’t feel hatred. I feel recognition. I know exactly how I became that person. I know the fears, the insecurities, the hunger for approval, the constant urge to run before anyone could see the real me. Still, knowing the reasons doesn’t erase the truth: I broke things I should’ve protected. I used silence like a weapon. I used distance like an escape route. And I lied to myself far more than I lied to anyone else. There were people who loved me, and I repaid them with inconsistency. There were people who trusted me, and I showed up only when it was convenient. There were people who needed honesty, and I hid behind polite half-truths because the full truth made me uncomfortable. I see now that I wasn’t living—I was defending. I was always preparing for a pain that hadn’t happened yet. I kept my heart wrapped in a thousand layers of fear, and anyone who tried to reach it got cut on the edges. And yet… I expected them to stay. It’s easy to confess the things you’ve done wrong when you’ve healed. It’s much harder to admit that you weren’t the hero in your own story. Sometimes, you were the one causing the ache. Sometimes, you were the storm, not the survivor. The turning point didn’t come in one dramatic moment. There was no collapse, no sudden revelation. Instead, it came as a series of quiet realizations—small, sharp truths that slipped under my skin and refused to leave. Like the night I reread an old message from someone I hurt and finally understood the weight of their words. Or the morning I woke up and felt exhausted by my own excuses. Or the day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back. I wasn’t proud of that person. And for the first time, that shame didn’t crush me—it changed me. Growth didn’t come with fireworks. It came with uncomfortable honesty. It came with apologies that trembled in my mouth. It came with choosing to sit with my failures instead of running from them. I learned that being ashamed of who you were doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re awake. We talk a lot about self-love, but we don’t talk enough about the part that comes before it—the part where you have to face every version of yourself you wish you could forget. The part where you realize the pain you felt doesn’t excuse the pain you caused. The part where you forgive yourself not because you earned it, but because you’re trying. I’m not proud of who I was. But I’m proud of who I’m becoming. I’m learning to show up. I’m learning to speak honestly, even when it scares me. I’m learning to stay, even when leaving would be easier. I’m learning to love people the way I always wished someone would love me—gently, consistently, and without disappearing. Most importantly, I’m learning to forgive the past version of myself—the one who didn’t know better, the one who reacted instead of reflected, the one who was trying to survive in the only ways they knew. If I could talk to them now, I wouldn’t yell. I wouldn’t shame them. I wouldn’t call them selfish. I would say: “You were hurting. And you handled that hurt poorly. But you’re learning now. And that matters.” We don’t get to erase our past selves. But we do get to outgrow them. And maybe that’s the real confession here— Not just that I’m not proud of who I was, But that I’m finally willing to become someone I can be proud of.
By Jhon smith11 months ago in Confessions
Buried Secrets:. AI-Generated.
Every life carries secrets. Some are small—like forgotten promises or unspoken fears. Others are heavy, buried deep within us, shaping the way we see the world without ever being spoken aloud. These buried secrets live in the shadows of our hearts, waiting for the right moment to surface. And when they do, they change everything.
By The Writer...A_Awan11 months ago in Confessions
Word of the Day:日常生活
A contagion is about as threatening as anything, we forget that people used to die of simple colds. Sometimes when you're on that death bed, that is the thing that does you in. Oh yea, I guess I am thinking of Jasmine for some reason. Well I don't want to think of Cedar Hills.
By Kayla McIntosh11 months ago in Confessions
Word of the day:お守り
I am just typing until I feel the tension leave my body but I think that I am just going to keep typing until I feel better. I am sort of channeling right now, but I enjoy the lesson actually. I sort of want to get an extra page out but I feel that's being a little cheeky. I mean I am basically like the other people who draw during class so, I am completely fine with it being that way.
By Kayla McIntosh11 months ago in Confessions
Word of the Day: チヂミ
It was crazy last night, I was like getting " extra time " being high and I could've probably been more productive with that time, but I ended up falling asleep at probably around 10pm and woke up at 6am so, I think I got my 8 hours of sleep.
By Kayla McIntosh12 months ago in Confessions
