Teenage years
I Wanted to be a Marine Biologist
I Wanted to Be a Marine Biologist My father has a sister, Debbie. I called her “Aunt Debbie.” Debbie is honestly the nicest person I am blood related to besides my Uncle Bill. Debbie lived in Anderson, Indiana. In her bathroom, her toilet seat covers, shower covers, soap dispensers, and whatever the fuck else you can put in a bathroom were covered in a fish design. I found it so fascinating, the colors, the shapes, and sizes these creatures could come in. I found it beautiful at such a young age. Now, my aunt’s fish addiction went past the bathroom walls. Fish decorations flooded the house—might I add her house was really well furnished for Anderson in the early 2000s—but besides that, she had one betta fish. Honestly forgot the name.
By mark cunninghamabout a year ago in Confessions
The Stranger Who Changed My Life Forever. Content Warning.
An Unexpected Encounter That Altered My Path I’ve always believed life moved in straight lines. You study, work, build a future, maybe stumble a little—but always in a forward direction. There was comfort in that structure, a belief that if I just followed the path, things would make sense. I never imagined that a complete stranger, someone I met on an ordinary Tuesday, would become the invisible turning point of my life.
By Shafi ulhaqabout a year ago in Confessions
Beyond the Iron Curtain
My National Geographic Picture Atlas of Our Fifty States The year was 1986, and I was drowning in the intoxicating currents of Gorbachev's winds of change. At sixteen, armed with a fountain pen and delusions of literary grandeur, I had already published several pieces in local and national press. My parents—two engineers who had transformed our apartment into a miniature Library of Alexandria—watched with bemused pride as their only child scribbled verses between math equations and dreamed of conquering the world through journalism.
By Baruh Polisabout a year ago in Confessions
What No One Tells You About Visiting Paris Alone
It was supposed to be a reset. A solo trip to Paris. One backpack, one broken heart, and no real plan. The idea was romantic—eat croissants under the Eiffel Tower, get lost in the Louvre, maybe flirt with a stranger in a bookstore. But what no one tells you about visiting Paris alone is this:
By Rameez Khanabout a year ago in Confessions
I Was Homeless at 19. This Is What No One Tells You.
I still remember the night I slept behind the grocery store like it’s tattooed into my skin, the smell of sour milk leaking from the dumpster, the concrete digging into my hip, and the way the cold seeped through my hoodie like I wasn’t even there.
By Ava Writes Truthabout a year ago in Confessions
Confessions of a Neurodivergent Black Girl: The Bad Built Thot. Content Warning.
"You ungrateful, bad built thot!!" That was the first I had ever heard of an insult like that. We can call him Skylar. He was my second love. A romance that was as unpredictable as the weather in New York. It was so turbulent, so messy, and yet at times, so beautiful.
By Rissabout a year ago in Confessions
