Jane Smith

Joined July 2025

13 stories

Stories (13)

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The Songs That Raised Me
Pop music wasn’t just background noise in my life—it was the melody that carried me through childhood, the bassline that pulsed through my teenage angst, and the chorus that comforted me when words failed. While some kids were raised on bedtime stories and folk tales, I was raised on the glittering, synth-filled fairytales spun by Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, and later, Taylor Swift. If you pressed play on my life, you'd find a playlist of memories hiding behind every lyric.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Futurism
My Cat Thinks I'm His Intern (And He's Not Wrong)
Let me begin with a confession: I used to think I was the owner. I paid the rent. I bought the kibble. I scooped the litter. I assumed this meant I was in charge.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Humor
I tried living like a book character for 7 days
It all started with a late-night scroll through TikTok and a video captioned: "Live like your favorite book character for a week. I dare you." I laughed, scrolled past, then scrolled back. The idea clung to me like a plot twist I didn’t see coming. I grabbed a notebook, flipped through my bookshelf, and whispered to myself, “Why not?”
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Fiction
This Body Is Not a Battlefield
I used to believe my body was a thing to be conquered. I thought if I worked hard enough, punished it fiercely enough, shaped it into some image of perfection, I would finally feel peace. I would finally feel worthy.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Poets
The App That Deletes Memories
I first heard about the app from a whispered conversation between two strangers in a coffee shop. Their voices trembled with excitement and fear—like they were sharing a secret not meant for public ears.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Fiction
What My Grandmother’s Hands Taught Me
There are hands in this world that tell stories without uttering a single word. My grandmother’s hands were those hands — weathered, wise, and warm, holding the kind of power that no one could see but everyone could feel. Growing up, I didn’t fully understand the depth of those hands until I began to see the world through her eyes and touch the legacy she left behind.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Humans
The Town That Skipped a Tuesday
The first sign that something was wrong came from the bakery. Mrs. Harrow always opened her shop on Tuesdays at precisely 6:45 a.m. She was the kind of woman who measured time with the same reverence others reserved for religion. But on this particular morning, the display case still held Monday’s stale pastries, and the bell above the door remained silent. She sat behind the counter, frowning at the clock like it had betrayed her.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Fiction
I Found a Box of My Rejected Manuscripts — and It Made Me Want to Write Again
The box was heavier than I remembered. It had been tucked away in the back of my closet, beneath a pile of winter coats and forgotten ambitions. A move had forced me to sort through the things I thought I’d buried for good. But as I dragged the old cardboard box into the light, I knew instantly what it was. My fingers trembled slightly as I peeled the flaps open.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Motivation
How Playing RPGs Healed My Social Anxiety
For most of my life, I was the quiet one—the kid who lingered at the edge of every conversation, who rehearsed sentences in their head only to abandon them halfway. Social interactions felt like boss battles I hadn’t leveled up for. Eye contact was exhausting, small talk felt scripted, and the thought of being the center of attention made my palms sweat. I was, in every way, ruled by social anxiety.
By Jane Smith 6 months ago in Confessions
Books I Fell in Love With Because of Their First Line
I never meant to fall in love with books. It just happened—suddenly, unexpectedly, like slipping on ice or stumbling into a stranger's smile that feels oddly familiar. And every time, the affair began the same way: with a first line.
By Jane Smith 7 months ago in BookClub
I Rewatched My Childhood Sci-Fi Shows and They Predicted My Adult Life
Growing up, Saturday mornings weren’t about pancakes or cartoons with slapstick comedy. For me, they were about distant galaxies, neon-lit cities, and time portals that sparked more curiosity than my school textbooks ever could. I was that kid—the one who could name every character from Star Galaxy Patrol or Quantum Escape, the one who doodled jetpacks in the margins of math homework. I never thought those pixelated adventures would one day become a mirror of my adult reality.
By Jane Smith 7 months ago in BookClub
The Echo That Wore My Name
I first heard it on a Tuesday, somewhere between sleep and sunrise—the unmistakable sound of my name echoing from the woods behind my childhood home. “Lena…” It was soft, stretched, almost reverent, like the trees were remembering something I had forgotten.
By Jane Smith 7 months ago in Fiction