Life

Is Your Child's Smartphone Stealing Their Childhood? The Truth Every Parent Needs to Hear
Picture a family dinner table. Plates are full. Food is warm. But nobody is talking. The parents are scrolling. The children are watching videos. Everyone is physically present but mentally somewhere else entirely — absorbed in a glowing rectangle that demands their full attention and gives very little back.
By sammmy6 months ago in Writers
Finding Warmth at Seventy-Seven
My father-in-law is 77 this year. To be honest, in our part of the world, seniors his age are mostly seen leaning on walking sticks, soaking up the sun against a wall, or playing chess and practicing Tai Chi in the park with their old pals. But not him. Yesterday, he actually brought a woman home, and the two of them moved in together just like that, bold as brass.
By Water&Well&Page6 months ago in Writers
PAGES for PAIN
Most people love journaling, and yeah, I do too… but I’m not that consistent, “write-every-day” type of person. I mostly write when I’m overwhelmed, sad, confused, or just mentally all OVER the place. Like when my emotions are acting up and I don’t even know what’s going on inside ME. When I’m happy or life’s going fine, I don’t really feel the need to write it down.
By Komal6 months ago in Writers
You’re Not Lazy—You’re Just Doing This One Thing Wrong
I used to call myself lazy in a way that sounded almost casual. Like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m just being lazy today.” “I’ll do it later.”
By John Smith6 months ago in Writers
Seven Rules, One Heartbeat
When Old Chen asked me to move in together, I was on the balcony watering a few pots of wilting devil’s ivy. He stood in the middle of the living room, rubbing his hands together and stammering for a long while before finally blurting out, "Old Li, why don't we move in together? That way, we can look out for one another."
By Water&Well&Page6 months ago in Writers
The difficulty of writing what you mean the first time around
I started writing quite a while back now all the way in 2012 when I first started freewriting scribbling notes into a paper journal to then rewrite and post on my personal blog.
By Malachai Hough6 months ago in Writers
What Happens to You When You Think About Death?. Content Warning.
Last night, I rushed my mother to the hospital. She has asthma and a heart condition, and in that moment, her body had turned against her. She couldn't breathe. I watched the person who raised me, who held my hand through every storm of my life, struggle for something as simple as air. My hands were shaking. My mind went blank. And somewhere between the panic and the prayers, a thought crept in, quiet, cold, and unavoidable.
By Javed Aslam6 months ago in Writers
It’s Not Rigged—It’s Just Writing
This follows on from my recent entry into Harper Lewis’ “It’s Not Fair!!!!” rogue challenge thingy. Winning isn’t everything. I know—easy for the guy whose profile page is as busy as Grand Central, King’s Cross, or Shinjuku Station with challenge placement badges. Yes, I have 37 to be exact. Six wins, five of which came within the last six months.
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Writers
The Price of Cost-Performance: A Father's Escape to True Family
My name is Zhou Dehou, and I am seventy-three years old. As I speak, I’m sitting on the third-floor balcony of a nursing home, watching a few elderly folks drift in slow circles around the small garden below. The wind is quite strong, blowing the few white hairs on the back of my head straight up, but I don't bother to smooth them down. No one is looking anyway.
By Water&Well&Page6 months ago in Writers
Branching Out
On Friday 20th March 2026, I did my first open mic night. There was no mic. A misnomer perhaps. However, there was a group of open and friendly people. It was a small affair, held in the snug of a local pub which is, as it sounds, a small room not attached to the main bar - a more intimate space. 8pm was the time that it started and my friend agreed to come and support me along with her daughter. I was glad she was there as I was nervous.
By Rachel Deeming6 months ago in Writers
The Cost of Just "Making Do"
My name is Wang Xiuying, and I am sixty-three years old. My husband passed away five years ago, leaving me alone in this empty house. My son settled down in Shenzhen and only makes it back a few times a year. When he calls, he always says, "Mom, I’m worried about you being alone. Why don't you move to Shenzhen and live with us?" But I know better; with my daughter-in-law’s temperament, my presence would only cause friction.
By Water&Well&Page6 months ago in Writers
Gardening
My azaleas are blooming, riots of pink, red, fuchsia, and white framing the house and garden shed. What I really want is a willow tree, up on the top of the ridge, long green hair flowing like a curtain I can hide behind while I rest my back against the trunk.
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Writers