Top Stories
Stories in Confessions that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Dear Sol
Dear Sol, I’ve been ignoring you for four months. The dictionary definition of Modern Day Torture should include being left on ‘read’, shouldn’t it? I could pretend I never received the messages, but I know you know I did. I never want to ignore you but what am I supposed to do with the stones you’ve put in my pockets? They’re heavy and not one of them mine to hold.
Blooming FrankPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsCholesterol and Cartwheels
Here’s the thing about time, they tell you that it flies, but they don’t tell you the other part. Sure, it flies, but oddly enough, it also stands completely still. Well, maybe not completely, but almost. It’s a strange contradiction, or more accurately, series of contradictions, that pop up sometime after 40 and really makes itself known once you hit 50. Somehow, I find myself stuck somewhere between young ingénue and cranky old lady. It’s a fine and strange line to straddle. Here are some examples:
Misty RaePublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsThe Haunted Mystery Box
I recently joined the notorious internet craze and ordered a Haunted Mystery Box. The reviews we're eccentric and enigmatic to say the very least. My curiosity was heightened and I found myself entering my payment information before I had entirely thought the situation through.
Rebecca Lynn IveyPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsI Used to be Fast
I used to be fast. I've had fleeting moments, but could never pinpoint a time in my life I could confidently say, "I am happy." I wonder if anyone truly is because I cannot conceive of that feeling lasting longer than a few minutes at most. I hear people say they are and feel how I imagine the blind must feel when being told about color. The knowing that I don't understand and never will is as horrible as it is perplexing.
M.C. MurphyPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsI Still Check The Back Of Wardrobes
I wasn't middle-class enough to be read to, instead, I perfected reading by torchlight so I didn't wake up my brother with whom I shared a room. My parents would turn a blind-eye to the little glowing tent I formed every evening. Today, such a glow would be emanating from a screen and Youtube but in the late 80s and early 90s, the glow was reflecting off the heavily thumbed pages of The Chronicles of Narnia.
Argumentative PenguinPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsParty Time!
Parties: An opportunity to stand around in uncomfortable shoes among strangers, wondering what you’re going to talk about and drinking too much to get over the awkwardness.
Fiona HamerPublished 3 years ago in Confessions10 Things I Hate About Me
Ever feel like you're just the oddball in the universe? And that no one could ever understand you because you're just too weird? Yeah, that's me.
Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsHeights of embarrassment
Between the ages of 16 and 17, I grew by about six inches until I was the tallest student in my high school, not just the tallest girl, the tallest STUDENT period.
Shirley TwistPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsWhat I learned from divorcing my parents
Here is an early memory of me being a kindergartener. My mom and I were sorting recent photos and adding them to the photo album (Photo album — Wikipedia). As she flipped through the pictures, she picked out a photo of me happily posing like a bunny in front of a fancy hotel.
Grimreapers.InkPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsWhen Your Tribe Is - Not Belonging
I belong to nowhere. This realization came to me when I was living in London, United Kingdom. I had managed to save up enough holidays to make a month-long trip back to India. I excitedly told my colleague - 'I am going home.' He looked surprised and said, 'Well, you do that every day.' And that's when I realized that home to me had many meanings, unlike other people. And a little bit of introspection, and I realized I had a PhD in not fitting in.
Anu SundaramPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsKant Lie to Me
I have recently made an unfortunate discovery. The man I love is a liar. This could be a devastating realization if it weren’t for the fact that his lies are pointless. He lies about what he ate, drank, and even how much sleep he got on any given day. The motivation is, of course, to keep me from worrying about his health, thereby saving himself from my nagging or, as I like to call it; Persistent care. I know what you’re thinking. If he lies about the small things, what else could he be hiding? More importantly, why do I accept this behavior? My journey to sophrosyne forced me to meditate on this subject instead of jumping to conclusions. A little research and empathy should go a long way.
Diana HerreraPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsThe First Time He Saw Me Cry
Once I thought tears were a weakness. Once I thought I should be ashamed of not being strong enough to control my tears. So I hid them, from everyone, and never let anyone see me cry. I had learned early on as a child that tears only made daddy angrier, made him not listen, and sometimes made him hit.
Michelle DevonPublished 3 years ago in Confessions