Stream of Consciousness

Word of the Day: 星. Top Story - October 2025.
I guess, even if the class assignment to learn about infertility treatments for a Japanese couple sort of pissed me off, at least it let me know where I stand on the topic: I definitely don't want children.
By Kayla McIntosh12 months ago in Confessions
The Man Made Of Glass
It wasn’t the arguments that weighed on Mark, but the silence. The quiet meals where conversation revolved around the kids’ soccer schedules and carpool duty. The easy laughter from the other room that never seemed to include him. He’d sit there, a silent anchor in a sea of activity, providing a steady income, a solid roof, and full plates, but feeling utterly adrift.
By Elijah Griffinabout a year ago in Confessions
The Day I Realized I Wasn’t Happy Anymore.
The Day I Realized I Wasn’t Happy Anymore A Journey from Emptiness to Self-Discovery It started like any other ordinary morning. The alarm buzzed relentlessly, a sound I had grown to hate but somehow ignored for years. I rolled over, rubbed my eyes, and reached for the phone that had become my lifeline to the world. Notifications flashed across the screen: emails from work, messages from friends I hadn’t really spoken to in weeks, reminders of bills, appointments, tasks, and a million tiny responsibilities. Everything seemed “normal,” yet something inside me felt hollow. That strange, gnawing emptiness had been building for months, but I had cleverly buried it beneath routines and obligations.
By Muhammad Ilyasabout a year ago in Confessions
A Situationship. Content Warning.
October 15th It’s 2 AM. The city outside my window is a sleeping beast, all quiet hum and distant, lonely lights. I can’t sleep. My skin feels too tight, my thoughts too loud. It’s on nights like these that the memories don’t feel like memories at all. They feel like ghosts living just under my ribs, pressing to get out. And tonight, the ghost is him. Aarav.
By Chahatabout a year ago in Confessions
Clarity in the Age of Noise
I used to believe that technology would make life easier. Everything about it seemed to promise more freedom. Faster work, cleaner results, and a kind of precision that would leave human error behind. For a while, I thought progress meant removing everything unpredictable and replacing it with systems that could not fail.
By Jessica Lavrovabout a year ago in Confessions
The Day I Finally Said “No More”
For years, I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. The comments, the unwanted attention, the “accidental” touches — they were just part of being a woman in a world that often forgets we are human before anything else.
By Malaika Pioletabout a year ago in Confessions
Do You Trust Me?
Some lessons don’t come through sermons or scriptures. Sometimes they come quietly, when you least expect them, through something as simple as a phone screen and a voice that asks one question you can’t ignore. This is the true story of how God spoke to Joey one night while he played poker on his phone, preparing him for a storm he didn’t see coming.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Confessions
The Night My Husband’s Phone Rang in His Sleep
It was past midnight when my husband’s phone started ringing. The sound sliced through the silence like a blade. He was fast asleep beside me, his arm resting on my waist, breathing soft and steady.
By Malaika Pioletabout a year ago in Confessions
The Yes Next Door. Content Warning.
We make it to the kitchen because water sounds wise and the bed was becoming a storm with no edges. The light over the sink is a warm coin; the counter is cool, slick under my palms. She hands me a glass and watches me drink like the act itself is foreplay. Maybe it is.
By Chahatabout a year ago in Confessions
An Epiphany. Content Warning.
I don’t know what happened to me on the night I realised just how sick I really am. I can’t tell if it was the swirl of xanax, THC, nitrous oxide, sertraline or oxytocin from the 5 orgasms I gave myself that made me see who I am and that I’m not a burden, not a liability, not a problem to be solved. But I am a person, who is in pain, and is reaching out their hand to be held. I remember lying with my face drooling with a tiny spot of saliva, my genitals tingling the climax away and feeling so much deep love for myself. Mixed with sadness. That I could see myself from the outside. I love myself with an inconceivable power. I am my God. And each one of us is our own God. Its not a matter of religious experience or spirituality, deities, what the fuck ever, who the fuck cares. Your God is you, and half the time you spend sinning against them.
By ME Wilsonabout a year ago in Confessions
The Angel on Valencia Road
I was driving somebody to the airport in a cab one day. The year was 2004. Back then, there were three cab companies that picked up passengers at the airport in Tucson. I drove for one of them, but I had also started my own small cab company on the side. The airport had strict rules, so my personal cab wasn’t allowed to line up with the main companies at the terminal. Because of that, I split my time. I drove for the company half the day, then used my own cab the other half, trying to build something for myself.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Confessions
The Last Confession: I Burned the Box of Unsent Love Letters, And This is What Happened Next
For ten years, it sat in the back of my closet—a plain, battered cardboard box, stained at the corners from a forgotten spill. It wasn't full of letters I’d received, but letters I’d written, but never mailed. Love letters, apologies that choked in my throat, bursts of rage that evaporated into cold silence, and desperate pleas for attention. All directed at people who, thankfully or regrettably, never read them. It was, in essence, an archive of an alternate life I was always too terrified to step into.
By Hussein Gazoabout a year ago in Confessions