humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Dear 35-Year-Old Me
I hope you’re happy. Finally, after years and years of talking down to yourself, not thinking you’re deserving of love, or interaction or even a kind word from others—to think you’re not worth the attention of someone who clearly thinks you are—finally, I hope you’re happy. I hope you’ve listened to the people who told you were kind, and who told you that you made them smile, or that they continued doing something because you believed in them. I hope you still believe in people; I hope that after all the bad experiences you’ve had with the wrong people, it hasn’t clouded the fact that the world is full to the brim of lovely, lonely, vibrant and amazing people—and you love making a connection with them. And, to a lesser degree, I hope you’ve realised that when people told you that you were attractive, pretty, beautiful, etc., you don’t have to explain to them why you’re not. You’re not up your own arse for accepting kindness. Yeah, life’s not about being a piece of art, or attracting others, or people fancying you—but it’s not about berating your appearance either. Sometimes, it’s okay to feel good about yourself, and sometimes it’s okay to spend money on looking good. I hope you realise how lucky you are that you had the body you had (and put no effort into). And I hope one day you look at pictures of yourself and realise that you were beautiful.
Pixie Alannah-WildePublished 7 years ago in HumansThe Big Sister I've Always Wanted!!
I am a huge advocate of the computer. I practically live with it. I can never do without it. My life is pretty much geared around it. Obviously, this article was written with it. During the course of its use, I may need to use the internet from time to time. When you come across something interesting, you would bookmark it so that you can go right back to the exact page you wanted. You might change the page in some way, but you can always return to it at any time in the future anytime you want.
Maurice BernierPublished 7 years ago in HumansThe Sisterhood Complex
I will never deny how beautiful female friendship is, a sisterhood with whom you can share your world, a group of girls who understand you and guide you both wisely and recklessly through your lives together. Female friendship is extremely important in shaping us women. The Sisterhood complex, however, is something different. See my definition:
Retribution: Chapter 25
January into February 1934 had given the people who came into La Première Etoile plenty to talk about. There had been Stavinsky's supposed suicide (or assassination as many were calling it). They were all repeating Le Canard Enchaîné's quip about Stavinsky having a "long arm" if he could have shot himself from the distance that the bullet which killed him came from.
Rachel LeschPublished 7 years ago in HumansRetribution: Chapter 24
Charles attended mass one Sunday afternoon in the middle of January. During that mass, a boy and girl were to be married. He noticed Catharine and Mimi sitting in a pew towards the front of the church.
Rachel LeschPublished 7 years ago in HumansThe Positive and the Negative
I am, by nature, a stoic, sardonic person. I don’t outwardly exhibit a great deal of emotion (I’m laughing on the inside, true story) but I have always had a knack for presenting myself with a cutting wit, something I think comes from also being a naturally intelligent person.
D. Gabrielle JensenPublished 7 years ago in HumansToday I Folded the Towels "Wrong"
I've been folding towels one particular way for nearly 20 years. Not today. Today I folded them "wrong." It may seem ridiculous or arbitrary something as insignificant as the "right" way to fold a towel but for me, the method of towel folding was something that kept me safe.
Claudia SandersPublished 7 years ago in HumansOnce, Twice, Three Times a Lady!!!
I am an OLD man. I am merely 61 years old. Okay, I am not a fossilized redwood tree, but I have been around the block so much that I am almost dizzy. My head, however, is still connected and very functional. So, now, I will begin.
Maurice BernierPublished 7 years ago in HumansRetribution: Chapter 23
Sarah Brady dropped by the Prideaux home for cocktails during the afternoon before New Year's Eve. Adèle was out, visiting a friend of hers who had just had a baby, but had Charles wish Sarah a Happy New Year for her.
Rachel LeschPublished 7 years ago in HumansYour Birthday Isn't Important
I have a poor relationship with my birthday. It doesn’t mean a thing to me; it never did. No one ever really cared for mine, apart from my family, of course. No one went out of their way to make sure I was remembered. And I didn’t like telling anyone because to me, surely, if I was important to any extent, I and my birthday would be remembered without question. I get it, people forget things, but my mum made a list of all my old primary school “friends” (it’s complicated) and their birthdays so we made sure I didn’t forget them. But everybody else was apparently remembered and celebrated by their friends, so why not me?
Bushra ShahriarPublished 7 years ago in HumansLet Us Make Man
I have held many titles and positions over my professional career and personal life. One of my most rewarding titles is a Servant Leader; any good effective leader must be a servant first. I have no shortage of confidence but no self-aggrandizement either. Additionally, I have an abundance of gratitude to those trail blazers who came before me; and I acknowledge, my help comes from above.
Marcel DozierPublished 7 years ago in Humans90 Miles an Hour
He could feel the cool evening breeze in his hair, 90 miles per hour, windows half rolled down in his late model pickup. It was a cool brisk evening for the middle of summer in upstate New York, he reached under the seat to make sure his father’s service revolver was still there, it had been a gift from his father on his deathbed. The wind from the window dried the blood on his face, he lights a cigarette and realizes that his clothes were still soaked with blood. As he saw the city lights disappear in the rear view he felt the cold beads of sweat as they ran down his neck. As the streetlights disappear and the yellow lines become mere dots on the highway, he feels overcome by emotion. Why did I think any of this was a good idea?
Michael C. Lafferty-ShockencyPublished 7 years ago in Humans