family
Effie, Simon, & Lorelai
Needless to say at this point, Effie's relationship with Lonnie was volatile. I don't know how many times she left him, or how many times she threatened to. Nor am I privy to how many times he told her he'd kill himself if she left, if she didn't return. I'm sure for every time I know about, there are several I don't.
By L.C. Schäfer4 months ago in Fiction
Why Not Me (Why Not You)
Why Not Me (Why Not You) There was a boy named Yemi, though most people simply called him “Y.” Not because he was mysterious or special, but because life had a way of shortening people who were overlooked. Teachers forgot his answers. Opportunities skipped his name. Friends stopped inviting him when things got serious. Even dreams, it seemed, passed him like he was standing in the wrong line. Yemi grew up hearing questions that never came with answers. “Why him and not me?” “Why them and not us?” “Why does it always work for others?” At first, he believed those questions were unfair. Then slowly, he began to believe they were facts. By the time he was older, he stopped asking why not me and started accepting not me as the default setting of life. But something strange happens to people who stop hoping—they don’t become empty. They become quiet. And in that quiet, something either breaks them… or rebuilds them. Yemi’s breaking point didn’t come loudly. It came in small moments. A job interview where he was told, “We’ll get back to you,” and never did. A friendship that faded without explanation. A dream he told someone about, only to hear laughter disguised as advice. Each moment didn’t destroy him. It reshaped him. Until one evening, sitting alone in a dim room with a flickering light bulb, Yemi asked himself something different. Not “Why not me?” But— “What if I’ve been asking the wrong question?” The world had trained him to believe success was a door reserved for selected names. But what if the door was not selective… just difficult? What if it didn’t open because people were special, but because they refused to stop knocking? The idea felt almost offensive at first. Because it meant he wasn’t excluded. It meant he had a role in the outcome. And responsibility is heavier than disappointment. So Yemi did something small. He started again. Not dramatically. Not with confidence. But with repetition. He learned skills others ignored. He applied where he previously assumed rejection. He tried things he once called “not for people like me,” not because he suddenly felt worthy—but because he was tired of living as if he wasn’t. And slowly, life began to respond differently. Not because the world changed. But because he did. The same places that ignored him began to notice him. The same doors that stayed closed started to crack open—not all at once, but enough to let light through. Still, life did not become easy. That was never the promise. He failed again. And again. But something inside him had changed: Failure no longer meant “stop.” It meant “adjust.” Years later, Yemi stood in a place he once thought belonged to other people. Not at the top of the world, but far from where he started. And for the first time, he understood something that cannot be taught in comfort: Most people don’t fail because they are incapable. They fail because they stop too early. And all those questions from his past returned—but this time with a different answer. Why not me? Because I stopped trying. Why not you? Because you haven’t started yet. And in that realization, Yemi understood something simple but powerful: Life is not always fair. But it is not always final either. Some people lose because they are not chosen. Others lose because they stop choosing themselves. And the difference between those two lives… is everything. So if you are still asking “Why not me?” Maybe the real answer is waiting on the other side of one more attempt. Not because success is guaranteed. But because quitting is the only way the question ever becomes true.
By Samson E. Gifted4 months ago in Fiction
Families Who Rule the World II. Content Warning.
Families Who Rule the World History remembers kings, presidents, generals, inventors, and billionaires. But behind many powerful names sits something older, quieter, and harder to see— families. Not always royal families. Not always political families. Not always famous. Some rise through money. Some through influence. Some through ideas. Some through generations of connection, ambition, and inherited opportunity. The world often looks like it is shaped by individuals. But beneath the surface, families leave fingerprints across decades. This is not a story of one family. It is a story of a hidden question: What if power was less about one person becoming great— and more about people building greatness together across generations? Long ago, in a city nobody agreed how to pronounce, there lived a merchant family called the Varels. They owned no army. No throne. No kingdom. They sold fabrics. Simple business. Nothing impressive. Yet every generation of Varels asked the same question: “What do people need before they realize they need it?” One generation built trade routes. Another learned politics. Another invested in schools. Another entered finance. Nobody became famous overnight. But over time— doors opened. Relationships formed. Trust accumulated. Resources multiplied. Eventually, people noticed something strange. Whenever important decisions happened— someone connected to the Varels seemed nearby. Not because they controlled everything. But because they had spent generations learning how systems worked. People called it luck. The family called it preparation. Then there were families that ruled differently. The Alvins ruled through stories. Every child grew up hearing tales of sacrifice, discipline, and courage. They produced teachers. Writers. Leaders. Artists. They rarely held formal power. Yet generations later— people still repeated their ideas. A family does not always rule through laws. Sometimes it rules through values. Through the things it teaches at dinner tables. Through habits. Through what it celebrates. Through what it refuses to tolerate. Then came the families of invention. No inheritance of gold. Only notebooks. Curiosity. Argument. Questioning. One generation asked: “What if?” Another asked: “Why not?” Their descendants changed industries. Not because intelligence appeared suddenly— but because curiosity became normal. The world sees a breakthrough. Families see years nobody noticed. Late nights. Failures. Encouragement. Lessons passed quietly. But there is another side. Not every powerful family stays powerful. Some become trapped protecting old status. Some confuse authority with wisdom. Some forget that influence without service eventually collapses. Power can become fragile. Legacy can become a cage. A family that once shaped nations can disappear in one generation if values vanish. Meanwhile— someone with no advantage begins building something new. A new idea. A new habit. A new relationship. A new future. History keeps reminding people of this: No throne stays forever. No dynasty is eternal. But families who adapt— families who build— families who invest in people— often outlast monuments. And perhaps that is the secret. The world is not only ruled by those with the loudest names. Sometimes it is shaped by ordinary people who quietly teach discipline. Who help one another. Who sacrifice today so tomorrow has more options. Who build not for attention— but because someone must begin. Every powerful family once started as someone making one decision. One trade. One lesson. One conversation. One generation deciding: “We want better.” And somewhere right now— in an apartment, a village, a crowded city, or a quiet home— another family is beginning. Not with wealth. Not with fame. But with intention. And one day people may look back and wonder: How did they become so influential? The answer may be simpler than they think. They started long before anyone noticed.
By Samson E. Gifted4 months ago in Fiction
