Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
Confessions of an Abuser: My Life in the Cycle
I should start by mentioning that the three women I discuss in this piece are incredible humans. They are all unique, smart, talented, creative, strong, and just dope people. I am fortunate to have had them in my life, and they are all safe. Two of them are still very much in my life and on good terms.
By Macintosh Leviathan7 years ago in Humans
I Am Me
I am human. You look at me and you would see two arms, two legs, and two eyes. Nothing different from the person standing next to me. We may look different, such as our skin color, hair color, and eye color. Our facial features are not exactly the same, and we probably have differences in our weight. The main difference, however, is what is inside of us. Most people are so focused on what we have on the outside, and what our gender is, to realize that we are just like everyone else to realize that we as human beings are capable of doing anything. They think that just because you are a boy you are more capable of leading a business to success and that you are girl you are much better at taking care and nurturing to anyone young and old. A guy can have a job but can't paint his nails or get them done but a girl can. A girl can tell their best friend that they love them and cuddle up with them not meaning anything but most guys can not. Why? Because we feel as if society tells us what is right and wrong?
By Nicholas Woods7 years ago in Humans
An Autistic Romance
I am 31 years old. I am not who I thought I'd be and I'm most definitely not where I thought I'd be on the path of life. 11 years, 7 Months, and 21 days ago, I met the man of my dreams. I don't know that I would call it love at first sight because I don't believe in love at first sight. I never have. People have so much more depth than just what you see at first sight. I fall in love with souls and minds, not appearances. However, his appearance did help.
By Dora Upchurch7 years ago in Humans
Forget Me Not
It had been a rough 4 months or so. I cried every night, without fail, even when I thought that I wouldn’t, I’d speak about it as an accomplisment, and he would put me down for it. “It’s only one day, you’ve cried every other day, this isn’t a big deal.” I’d cry again. Night after night I don’t know how either of us did it anymore. There was no love anymore, no safe space. I tried and I tried but I got so angry. I got to a point of neglect where I would resort to petty and harsh words just to get him to feel something in the relationship. He would only react to the extremely harsh ones. Then we would argue, yell, cry, and forgive each other endlessly until we fell asleep. We continued as such, and I continued looking up articles on what to do. I had nothing else. No job, schooling, friends that I paid attention to anymore. This began to take up all of my time. I would wake up at 3 in the afternoon and wait until I could talk to him. Suddenly everything was him, and he was everything. Day after day I began to cling more, and he pulled away. I thought each time I would go to visit that I could fix everything, it would all be great again, just like the beginning. I would lose a questionable amount of weight in the week I wouldn’t see him, and plan what I could do to make things easier again when he would come pick me up. I didn’t notice it at the time, but I began drinking pretty frequently. It became a habit to be tipsy/drunk when he pulled up to my house to pick me up. It didn’t matter if it was at 3 PM, 6 PM, 10 PM, then it got worse, and even at 11 I would be drinking. I would buy lingerie with money I didn’t have to spice up the relationship. I was 19.
By Lauren MacLeod7 years ago in Humans
When People Accuse You of Something that You Didn't Do
You think you're the worst person in the world for being paranoid, but actually, it's not you that's being paranoid. It's the other person that's being paranoid and you just sit there like "Erm hang on for one minute I did send you a message but you haven't responded; secondly if you sent me messages I would have responded to them by now, so you don't need to be jumping down my throat if I didn't get any messages until now."
By Lizzy Arrow7 years ago in Humans
Why I Stayed
It all began the summer before my freshman year of college. I was talking to this guy that literally made me the happiest I had ever been. He made me feel comfortable from the beginning and it was so freeing. Because I am a little shy this very short relationship opened my shell. He helped me feel comfortable with showing my true self regardless of my environment.
By helianthus 7 years ago in Humans
Home
I wish he knew the way that I felt. But I know he doesn't. I know I talk a lot about the past, he must be convinced that I want to be there instead of here. The truth is, I am obsessed with sixteen. I wrote a song about it, I relive it in my mind every day, it's become my obsession. Maybe it's that lyric from that song I like to listen to, by the girl with a soft voice. "Gotta get it in my head, I'll never be sixteen again." Sometimes I pretend that I am.
By anxious snack7 years ago in Humans
Wiping My Face of Society
'Our normal expectations about reality are created by social consensus. We are taught how to see and understand the world. The trick of socialization is to convince us that the descriptions we agree upon define the limits of the real world. What we call reality is only one way of seeing the world, a way supported by social consensus.' - Carlos Casteneda
By Brooke Jarvis7 years ago in Humans
Curse of the Secret Santa
The lights. The blinking lights flashing green and red, alternating in duration, yet somehow in sync, clearly the difference maker. The lights illuminate the season. The smell of pine fills the air as I pass the rows of wreath and tree vendors. With several packages in hand, I struggle through the streets of New York feeling the brisk cool air, evidenced through my foggy breath. Yup, tis the season. It’s Christmas time. Whenever I casually walk the city streets, I always experience incidental bumping by New Yorkers seemingly in a hurry - typical. Now, there are shoppers with bags upon bags of gifts no one will ever use. I too am on that same quest except for me it’s a tradition that invokes a curse. This curse is not one conjured by a witch or warlock but one that was self-imposed, unwittingly through my own selfish, childish actions. Only after the third or fourth year as an adult did I realize I was under said curse. Some may call it retribution. Some may call it a well-deserved boomerang effect. I call it quite simply: The Curse of the Secret Santa.
By Tomas Alejandro7 years ago in Humans