Stream of Consciousness
The Crack in the Door
Friday nights are my favorite because my granddaughters come to stay the night. They love playing games with me and I am old but not too old for them. I never will be, I would do anything for them. I cook for them almost as much as my wife does. She’s an angel on earth but I don’t say that out loud, it’s not what men are expected to do. We are expected to provide and protect and I have done that for several decades, through all of my kids lives. I used to drink but God changed that. I am a better man because of Christ. I am a hard worker and I used to show my anger with my large, tough hands. But even that was love, or I thought it was. I thought I was teaching them how to behave. I was wrong. Now I work with the same hands to provide, to cook, the play hide and seek with grandkids. To cut wood for fire to keep them warm. And sometimes, when no one is looking, bring my wife a coffee and tuck her in with a blanket. Because she really is an angel and even a tough old man like me can show her gentleness sometimes.
By Raine Fieldera day ago in Humans
Open Letter to a Drunk Driver
To the man who killed my best friend, three years ago today, Three years ago tonight, you made a choice, like your life was the only one that mattered. You got in your car after drinking way too much (the report said your blood alcohol level was 0.22 , three times the legal limit), and you drove the wrong way, and you hit her car head-on and obliterated it.
By Erin Walker6 days ago in Humans
The Characters That Form Me
There are characters we enjoy, characters we admire, and then there are characters who somehow become part of us. They enter our lives through a television screen, a book, a game, or a story, but somewhere along the way they stop feeling like fictional people we simply watch. Their struggles become lessons. Their victories become inspiration. Their words stay somewhere in the back of our minds. Sometimes, without realizing it, we begin carrying pieces of them with us.
By The Kind Quill7 days ago in Humans
Duality of Memory
People say memory is soft. That it blurs at the edges, that it shifts, that it protects you from yourself. Mine never did. Mine stayed sharp. Mine stayed loud. Mine stayed exactly the same every time I revisited it, like a photograph that refused to fade. But everyone else’s memory of my father was a different creature entirely.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Humans
We Don't Change. We Get Rewritten. Top Story - September 2026.
Life is made up of unpredictable chapters, each one leaving its mark on the main character — you. The same way we get pulled into a good storyline, the different stages of our lives have a way of reshaping who we are; adding depth, complexity, and intrigue to our personalities. Do these chapters make us better? Stronger? Do they break us?
By tatiana vitas19 days ago in Humans
The Vault
Welcome to your very own tour inside the crevices of my mind! Come on, step inside. Before we go too far, I want you to see these photos I keep right inside the front door. Take a good look at her. That's me. That version was quiet and small. She spent years swallowing her own voice just to keep the peace. People loved having her around because she was so easy to step on. I always look at the photos before opening up the windows... or ya know, my eyes ... every morning as a reminder to not ever be that again.
By Sara Wilson26 days ago in Humans
Life After Death. Content Warning.
Every living being has a soul; where does your soul go when the body dies? No, this has nothing to do with religion; There isn't a standard Heaven or Hell aspect, and that's where you go if you believe in this narcissistic God.
By Jen Phillipsabout a month ago in Humans
