breakups
When it comes to breakups, pain is inevitable, but Humans thinks that suffering is optional.
Diamond Platnumz: Net Worth, Age, Relationships, Children & More
When you hear the name Diamond Platnumz, you're not just thinking of a Tanzanian artist—you’re thinking of a powerhouse who turned Bongo Flava into a global sensation. With a voice that commands stages and a hustle that builds empires, Diamond has climbed from humble beginnings in Tandale to international stardom.
By Marveline Merababout a year ago in Humans
Fighting for Our Lives
When you go to that far-off place That bends reality and warps time, I'll be right here. When the words are there, But just won't come, I'll help you find them. When you drift, I'll be your tether, Secure, grounded, and ready To bring you home. We are stronger than this affliction, together. This story is part explanation, part dedication, and a very large part warning. As it happens, my last story published was written after a month of silence on Vocal, with a note that I'd be getting back into the swing of things. Shortly after that, things went haywire in a big way and I've been “off the circuit” for another month. As my friends here on the platform know, my wife, Pam, is my anchor. That hasn't changed, but circumstances have turned the tables somewhat, which is where the opening lines of this story come into play. On the afternoon of the third day of last month, a stark lack of focus and some confusion on Pam's part prompted me to take her to the emergency room, against her wishes. She had a minor stroke a few years ago and it produced similar symptoms, so I wasn't about to take any chances. I'm sure I don't have to explain the stress induced by waiting for hours in an ER unit, while your spouse is on various IV fluids and test results take forever. There were other stressors, but this isn't about that. Suffice it to say that we finally returned home at 5AM the next day, with the following diagnoses: The “bug going around” infection was ruled out. A CT scan showed no sign of a stroke. Good news on both counts. The bad news? Her blood pressure and blood sugar were both dangerously high. Hypertension tends to accompany spending the night in a unit like the one we were in, so that was at least somewhat expected. Hyperglycemia was an unpleasant surprise. It's something we're both acutely aware of, since Pam's mother had a long bout with it a few years ago. Diabetes does run in the family. There wasn't a firm diagnosis of diabetes at the time, though they did administer insulin. We came home with all of the numbers in the discharge papers, a prescription, and orders to get Pam in to see our primary care provider. That appointment would be 10 days down the road, simply because our PCP, a nurse practitioner whom we both love, was overwhelmed with appointments. After another round of lab tests, her condition was confirmed and a regimen of prescriptions was ordered. That leads to where we are today, and the promises made at the top of this piece. Here's what I'd like readers to know: Hyperglycemia messes with thought processes. It can cause selective memory loss and often makes the patient argumentative, perhaps even combative. There were several 4AM wake-ups with her getting dressed “to go outside” and an instance while cooking breakfast together when she asked when here sisters were going to be arriving to eat with us. (The sisters live in Portland/Vancouver.) Imagine what that all of this means for the person responsible for restricting the person's diet and monitoring blood sugar. Fortunately, Pam is very capable and willing where the testing is concerned. The dietary changes often take a lot more convincing. There's no loss of attachment. Pam is still very affectionate and I'm incredibly grateful for that. There was one instance where she mentioned that we weren't actually married, but a quiet conversation about the wedding in our park in the redwoods got us through that. We spend our days side by side, and she's beside me as I write this, playing games on her phone. Those have become something of a grounding mechanism, although it's no fun when she decides to play until 2AM. So, here we are, getting through it, one day at a time. We “signed up” for life and we'll both make the necessary efforts. Things are improving, but occasional memory lapses still occur. We work through them. I want to emphasize that I'm not writing this for any credit. I'm not doing anything she wouldn't do for me if the roles were reversed. I'm hoping that some who read this might find some insight about the possible effects of something as simple as sugar intake. I haven't even delved into the worst possible effects, like blindness and nerve damage. Please, don't ignore the signs. I'm also hoping this might help explain why I've been AWOL on Vocal again. With some continued luck, this will be just the start of more stories. After all, we have a major move on the very near horizon and there will be much, much more to write about! Thanks for taking the time to read, and thank you all for your inspiration!
By SophiaSosoabout a year ago in Humans
Can We Be Friends With Our Exes? A Yay or a No Go?. AI-Generated.
Let’s be honest. Friendships with exes are rarely straightforward. One day you’re sending memes about your breakup to your group chat, and the next you’re getting a random DM from his new girlfriend.
By Tiara Yuannabout a year ago in Humans
What Nobody Tells You About Healing After a Toxic Relationship
Healing after a toxic relationship is tough. It leaves you with trust issues and fear of new relationships. But, it's also a chance for personal growth and learning self-improvement techniques.
By LaMarion Zieglerabout a year ago in Humans
The Unexpected Light: A Moment of Kindness. AI-Generated.
It was just another long day at work. The coffee stains on my shirt, the never-ending pile of paperwork, and the empty echo of my thoughts had all become my reality. Yet, I smiled when I heard my daughter’s voice through the phone. Lily, just 7, her words light and full of curiosity.
By sahinur sahinabout a year ago in Humans
How can we reduce Ageing of our Brain.
Our brain is one of the most important parts of our body. It helps us think, remember, learn, and make decisions. But just like our body, the brain can also grow old. As we age, we might forget things more often, struggle to focus, or feel mentally tired. This is called brain ageing.
By Dadullah Danishabout a year ago in Humans
I Stopped People-Pleasing for 30 Days — Here’s What Happened
I used to wear the title "people-pleaser" like a badge of honor. I said yes to everything. Took on tasks I didn’t want. Bit my tongue to avoid conflict. I thought being agreeable made me kind, lovable, and easy to be around.
By Bahram shahabout a year ago in Humans
Her fake love. AI-Generated.
It all started on a cloudy afternoon when the sky didn't seem to know what to do, like it was stuck between rain and sun. That was the sort of day that she entered my life. I had no idea at the time how unpredictable she would be, just like the weather. We met in the most ordinary way—at a small local bookstore. She was softly muttering lines to herself as she thumbed through an out-of-date poetry book. I couldn't help but be pulled toward her voice as I pretended to browse. She smiled as if she had known me her entire life and looked up to meet my eyes. That smile was my undoing. From that moment, things took off in a blur of emotions and moments that felt too perfect to be real. We discussed books, music, our anxieties, and our childhood aspirations. When she talked about the stars, her eyes would light up, and she always had a faint scent of jasmine and old books. I noticed that parts of my personality were aligning with hers with each conversation. I fell. Hard. She said she felt the same. Whispered sweet promises under the moonlight, held my hand like she’d never let go, and called me her "home." I also trusted her. Why would I not? With her, every moment felt like poetry. But poetry often comes from heartbreak, I would soon discover. Cracks started to appear as the weeks turned into months. She stopped responding, and then she stopped being there. It appeared as though she was speaking to someone she barely recognized, as the warmth in her voice gave way to cold curiosity. She would laugh it off with a kiss and say, "You overthink too much," when I asked her if there was something wrong. However, it did not overthink. It was me watching the love I thought was real slip quietly through the spaces between our fingers. I still recall a particular evening when I had prepared dinner, lit a few candles, and even played her preferred playlist. She arrived late, claimed to have forgotten, barely touched her food, and promptly left, claiming to be exhausted. I sat by myself that evening, gazing at the candle's dripping wax like time had passed. I felt abandoned while sitting in the same room where we once danced barefoot. The middle part of our story was chaos wrapped in silence. I was breaking, quietly. Still deeply in love with her. I wrote unsent letters, cried in showers, and smiled when she was around even though her eyes no longer looked into mine the way they used to. My love turned into a one-way street filled with desperation and confusion. She started spending less time with me and more time on her phone. I justified it to myself as work. I desired to believe that love does not simply vanish without a goodbye. But it can. Yes, it did. One night, the truth came not through confession but exposure. I observed the messages. Photos: a trail of flirtatious nicknames and heart emojis sent to someone else. My world, which I had built so carefully around her, collapsed in a flash. She cheated on me. And what hurt the most wasn’t the act itself—but the fact that she didn’t even try to hide it anymore. No excuses. No reasons. No apologies. It was as if I had disappeared, serving as a placeholder until someone more "exciting" appeared. I asked her why. She gave a shrug. Said, "Things just changed," as if love was a commodity with a finite lifespan. I stood there, heart shattered, and she walked away without looking back—like none of it ever meant anything. It’s been months since then. Sometimes, I still dream of her voice. from that bookshop. Of her whispering Rumi in my ear and telling me how the universe wanted us to meet. I'm curious as to whether she meant any of it or whether it was all part of the performance. Maybe she just loved the idea of love, the attention, the thrill of something new—until it wasn’t thrilling anymore. I have tried to despise her. I really have. But I only feel numb. like leaving a page unfinished. Like a song that was beautiful but never meant to finish. And yet, even in all this pain, I’ve learned something: love isn’t always mutual. The most sincere hearts sometimes find themselves in the hands of those who do not know how to hold them. Her love was fake. Mine, however, was not. And that’s what makes the story both tragic and beautiful. Because I gave everything I had—honestly, fearlessly, and fully. And someday, someone else will read this story and recognize their own pain in these words. I tell them, "You're not alone." Even though it seems like the world is made of broken promises right now, you will heal.
By Mickey luvelabout a year ago in Humans
