Jhon smith
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Welcome to my little corner of the internet, where words come alive
Stories (65)
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I’m Not Proud of Who I Was
There are people who say they have no regrets, that everything they’ve done has shaped who they are. I wish I could say that. I wish I could pretend every version of me was necessary—every mistake, every lie, every selfish choice. But the truth is simpler, quieter, and harder to swallow:
By Jhon smith2 months ago in Confessions
Our Old Blue Blanket
The blanket wasn’t much to look at. It was the kind of faded blue that came from years of sun, washing machines, and being dragged around by small hands that didn’t yet know what “delicate” meant. Its edges were frayed. The fabric had thinned in the middle, worn down from the hundreds of nights somebody pulled it close. But in our family, that old blue blanket held a place no expensive quilt or store-bought comforter ever could.
By Jhon smith2 months ago in Families
Ashes of the Eternal City
Rome was a city that breathed fire long before flames ever touched its walls. Its people lived with a confidence that bordered on destiny, believing nothing could shake the stones of the Eternal City. The streets bustled with merchants shouting prices, children weaving between crowds, and senators in crisp white togas drifting like ghosts toward the Forum. But underneath the marble and noise lived a truth Rome never wanted to face—greatness is fragile, and even eternal things can burn.
By Jhon smith2 months ago in History
When We Were Small
When we were small, the world felt enormous—not because it truly was, but because we had not yet learned to measure it with fear. Back then, distances were crossed with bare feet, not hesitation. Walls were climbed, not avoided. People were trusted before we learned the price of doing so.
By Jhon smith2 months ago in Writers
