Teenage years
Unveiling Hearts: A tale of friendship and love
Max and Ava were best friends since childhood. They shared countless memories, laughter, and tears. Their bond was unbreakable. As they stepped into high school, something began to stir within them. With each passing day, their friendship blossomed into something deeper, something more profound.
TomiwaPublished 7 months ago in Confessions- Top Story - October 2023
"Just Not Good Enough"
Am I the only one who's tired of losing? Maybe I shouldn't be looking at situations as "loss" or "win", but how do you not? Everyone searches for value and self-worth. A little winning goes a long way to supporting that. Is it so much to ask, to just win once in a while?
Veronica ColdironPublished 7 months ago in Confessions I Am Sorry
I Am Sorry, Laura I hope this message finds its way to you and that you're doing well. I've been doing some reflecting lately, and I couldn't let another day go by without addressing something that's been weighing heavily on my heart.
Onne StarsPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsColours of Love: Unveiling Unconventional Romances
In the quaint town of Willowbrook, nestled between rolling hills and whispering willow trees, there was a love story that defied all expectations. It was a love story that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that love knows no boundaries, no constraints, and no societal norms.
FrancisPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsThe Hidden Fixer
The Hidden Fixer Can adults hide under the bed too? I yearn to escape, to retreat, or simply vanish from existence. The thought of not being a concern to anyone consumes me. If only I could disappear without a trace, leaving behind the burdens that weigh me down. Since childhood, whenever I made mistakes, an overwhelming urge to hide beneath my bed would take hold of me. In those moments, I longed to shrink myself into insignificance, to become invisible to the world. I desired to block out my senses, to be enveloped in darkness and white noise, where the chaos of life couldn't reach me. The weight of expectations and judgments, both external and self-imposed, suffocates me, urging me to seek refuge in solitude.
A Lady with a PenPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsSilent Bonds
In different cities, miles apart, two friends, Sarah and David, shared an unspoken connection that transcended distance. Their story was one of silent understanding, where words were often unnecessary.
Madon NaPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsEchoes of Love
The first snowflakes of winter fell gently, blanketing the town in a soft, white embrace. Sarah stood by the window, her breath fogging the glass as she watched the world transform. It was a new beginning, a fresh start, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of hope.
TherealsamPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsDonkey porn, or, I don’t like hockey very much
I was not an athletic child. Not a team player. A little bit too compulsive. A little too lazy. A little too fat. It took me until I was 16 to work out an elegant solution to the problem. My school allowed you to select which activity you would like to do for games: hockey, aerobics, tennis, yoga, etc, etc. Often at the start of term someone decided they’d really like to do, I don’t know, croquet, and then changed their minds and switched to, I don’t know, needlework (are these sports? I don’t know, as I said, I wasn’t there). The croquet teacher would call the register and ask why a certain person was missing, and someone would pipe up “Oh no, so and so is doing needlework now.” So all I had to do was sign up to pétanque and hopscotch, and prime two friends: one to tell the pétanque teacher I was attending hopscotch, and one to tell the hopscotch teacher I was attending pétanque. And then I retired for a peaceful afternoon of drinking red wine in a wardrobe.
Ella SkolimowskiPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsBullying on the Runanga School Bus in 1973...
We lived about three miles from the nearest high school so we had to catch the School Bus into Greymouth. The bus started its journey at Runanga. I observed bullying on the bus but I was not a victim, at least not in my first year. I felt sorry for those who were bullied. One such kid who lived a mile further down from us got bullied so much that he ended up cycling to school.
Robert StewartPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsThe blooming hearts
Once upon a time, in the small Kenyan village of Iten, there lived a boy named Biwott. Biwott was known throughout the village for his cheerful disposition and kind heart. He had a smile that could light up even the darkest of days, and he spent most of his time helping his family with their farm and playing with the other children in the village.
Mordecai BiwottPublished 7 months ago in Confessionsshort term
Sometimes I realizes how much I lost my memory because of my stress wow! what a realization. BUT YOU ALL HAVE TO LISTEN Because It will give me internal peace, HAHAHA SHIIII!IT A SERIOUS MATTER BUDDY
khadija siddiquiPublished 7 months ago in ConfessionsUnveiling the mystery of Matilde Landeta
Unveiling the Remarkable Legacy of Matilde Landeta: A Pioneer in Mexican Cinema Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to embark on a journey through the captivating world of Mexican cinema, guided by the brilliance of Matilde Landeta, an unsung heroine of the Silver Screen! Today, Google's vibrant doodle celebrates the 113th anniversary of her birth, a day that forever altered the course of Mexican filmmaking. Join us as we dive into the life and legacy of a true pioneer, whose indomitable spirit and creative prowess blazed a trail in the Golden Age of Mexican cinema.
Santigie FofanahPublished 8 months ago in Confessions