Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
How to Love a Woman Right?
How a woman should be loved? What is the right way? Well, ladies and gentlemens, the BIG REVEAL is about to come.
Bjorna HoxhallariPublished 3 years ago in HumansJournal entry #3
First day in my new apartment and I am freaking out. It is so scary but it feels so right. I want to move on with my life and get some *stuff* together. I was not in a good place a couple months ago and I knew I had to get out or else it would get worse...
for my mental healthPublished 3 years ago in HumansIn A Fit Of Love and Rage
The original letter was a local trans woman’s story; the editor picked it because the woman was her neighbor, and she thought it interesting and meaningful. The letter detailed vast amounts of shame the writer still holds; she called herself disgusting, disfigured, in need of correction.
Mother
I am first aware of my mother as a sound, a touch, a feeling. Most of what I know of those soft early times are not my own memories but photographs and stories. I know I was made in a haunted hotel in Colorado. I know that people would pat her belly and sing the jingle, "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee." I know that I am made of pully bread with pineapples and cream cheese. I know that after I was born, she would laugh as I laughed. I know that she would coo when I would coo. I had love and grace and joy and realism to grow with because of her. I know that as I grew up, I would be lucky enough to get to witness a woman with power.
Sarah SniderPublished 3 years ago in HumansCabernet Problems Pt.3
The glossy, black door opened, and Savannah stepped into his car. Her naked legs slithered across the seats. She could smell the new leather and assumed it was expensive. Pulling the seat belt over her shoulder, the buckle clicked. Holding the silence by opening a stick of mint gum, she granted the piece to burst in her mouth. The pleasantness broke out into a fresh mint flavor.
Amber SanfilippoPublished 3 years ago in HumansWho Am I: My True Color
Who am I? What are my true colors? Who is this person that I look at in the mirror everyday? Who is this person that everyone says is ugly, annoying, retarded, or cant do shit right. Who is she? People judge me before they get to know me. People get mad and wanna fight when I speak my truth or speak the truth about them and who they are as a person. Older men and women won't give me a real chance of a relationship because they think I'm stupid or wet behind the ears. Or judge me based on my age and current position in life. So what is my true color really? Who is this woman that has the voice of an angel? Who has bars like master p and brings good to the table. I'm so sick of these labels. Scare of judgment. It's painful. I'm so sick of feeling worthless. I hope I don't get fatal. Who is this woman wants to please everyone around them, but can't be who she is on the inside nor the outside. And if she does show whether true color is, she'll lose everyone around her and will officially be alone. If she does what truly makes her happy, she may as well burn every bridge with everyone that's close to her or associates with. So the main question is....WHAT....IS....MY....TRUE....COLOR?!?! My true color defines who I am. So who am I, you ask? I am a black woman. I am a black woman who is lost. I am a black woman who is broken. I am a black woman who is angry, hurt, sad, depressed. I am a black woman that wants to be free. I'm a black woman trapped inside a teeny tiny box the size of a grain of sand. I feel like crying and screaming at the top of my lungs so everyone can notice me. Notice that I need help. Notice that I want to be free. Right now I'm not free. I'm a black woman who is incarcerated in the facility of anxiety, loneliness, and fear. I'm a black women that wakes up every morning pissed the fuck off at the world. Pissed off at myself. Beyond Pissed at everyone around me. I am infuriated. I'm a black woman that cries herself to sleep every night. Most nights I can't even get any sleep because I'm so stuck inside my head. I'm a black woman who grew up in a Jehovah's Witness household and was forced out the closet at 15, and forced out again and "disciplined" for it at 17. And being told by my own mother that I'm not her daughter all because I'm attracted to the same sex. I am a black woman who is still trapped inside this pitch black dark closet in 2021 at 20 years old. I'm a black woman who thinks to herself every single day "what if I was not around anymore? What if I wasn't on this planet anymore? Will anyone miss me when I'm gone? Will the world be better off without me? Maybe I should just eliminate myself from the equation of life. I'd be doing everyone around me a favor if I just put the gun up to my head and pull the trigger without any hesitations whatsoever". I ask myself everyday "when will you run away to another state or country? When will you come out the closet for good and never return? Better yet, forget coming out the closet. When will you break down that closet door and burn it into ashes? And most importantly, when will you be free to be yourself?" So who am I? What are my true colors? I am a black woman on the road. A lonely, dark, deceiving, scary road of destruction.
AwomanwithadreamPublished 3 years ago in HumansStudent of the School of Rock
In my early teens, at the back of a Spanish lesson In School, a friend offered to me one half of her ear phone. “Hello, I love you” by The Doors was playing and I instantly fell in love back.
Hayley ColemanPublished 3 years ago in HumansWhat would Love smell like?
It is the smell that hits you first. It penetrates the air, making it thicker and fuller. The fragrance is sweet, as though blood has been drawn. But this rich smell isn’t blood, it is sweat. The odor of Human sweat when it is dripping in fear. Our scent is our calling to all other animals. Right now, I am the Lion and although I do not eat my victims; they satisfy my appetite. My dinner this evening exhaust himself with pleas of a different fate. I make no mistake in thinking I am God. However I am aware, believer or not; I am one of His messengers. So my fate is as set as this Gentleman.
Hayley ColemanPublished 3 years ago in HumansMy Mother, the Alchemist
Before I was born, my parents couldn’t pick a name for me. My mother told me I was a womb full of questions, at once her companion and a stranger shifting softly inside her body. She did not know my sex, my potential, or anything else about me - but she believed in the possibilities of life, and she diligently took shots of insulin each day so that I could one day believe in them, too.
Emily Sinclair MontaguePublished 3 years ago in HumansHow I Raised My Vibrations
Have you ever heard of the word "Vibe?" The vibe is short for vibrations which is something that all living things possess. We all have a vibrational frequency.
nostalgia.radio🪲Published 3 years ago in HumansGusess Game?
So Amazing people around the world where do you think I come from. Hello everyone, how did your weekend go? I didn't even understand where time went from me knitting and watching DC - The Flash.. And been surrounded with hyper kids, lol …
The most important job in the world
What do you want to be when you grow up? “An astronaut!” “A ballerina!” “A doctor!” “An architect!” “A princess!”
A.M.RadulescuPublished 3 years ago in Humans