Dystopian

The Truth I Was Too Afraid to Admit
The Truth I Was Too Afraid to Admit BY: Khan For years, I mastered the art of looking fine. I smiled in photos, laughed at the right moments, and replied to messages with a casual “all good” even when nothing felt good at all. From the outside, my life looked stable—steady work, familiar faces, routine days. Inside, though, something was quietly unraveling. I felt like a guest in my own life, showing up but never fully present. The truth I was too afraid to admit wasn’t dramatic or loud. It didn’t arrive with a breakdown or a sudden collapse. It whispered. And maybe that’s why it took me so long to hear it. I wasn’t living the life I wanted. I was living the life I thought I was supposed to want. I told myself I was being practical. Responsible. Mature. I followed the path that seemed safe, the one that earned nods of approval. I ignored the small voice that asked uncomfortable questions—Is this really you? Are you happy, or just busy? I buried that voice under deadlines, expectations, and the comfort of familiarity. Admitting dissatisfaction felt ungrateful. After all, so many people had less. So I learned to minimize my feelings, convincing myself that wanting more meant I was selfish. I stayed quiet because silence felt easier than explaining something I didn’t fully understand myself. But silence has a cost. It showed up in the way mornings felt heavy before they even began. In the way Sundays carried more anxiety than peace. In the strange emptiness that followed achievements I was supposed to celebrate. I kept reaching milestones, only to realize they didn’t move me the way I thought they would. One evening, after another long day that felt exactly like the one before it, I caught my reflection in a dark window. I looked tired—but not the kind of tired sleep could fix. That was the moment something cracked. I finally admitted the truth I had been avoiding: I was afraid to change because I was afraid to disappoint people. I had built my life around being dependable, predictable, acceptable. Walking away from that felt like betrayal—to my family, my friends, even the version of myself I had presented to the world. What if I failed? What if I regretted leaving what I had worked so hard to build? Fear had disguised itself as loyalty. Once I named it, I couldn’t unsee it. I realized how often I said yes when I meant no. How often I stayed quiet when something mattered. How often I chose comfort over honesty. The truth wasn’t that I didn’t know what I wanted—I knew. I just didn’t trust myself enough to go after it. Admitting that didn’t magically fix everything. It didn’t come with clarity or instant courage. But it gave me something more important: direction. I started small. I began telling the truth in places where it felt safer—admitting when I was tired, when I needed space, when something didn’t align with me anymore. I allowed myself to disappoint people without apologizing for existing. And slowly, something shifted. The weight I’d been carrying wasn’t the life itself—it was the pretending. I learned that honesty doesn’t always change your circumstances right away, but it changes your relationship with yourself. And that matters more than I ever realized. For the first time in years, my choices began to feel like mine. The truth I was too afraid to admit didn’t ruin my life. It gave it back to me. I still don’t have all the answers. I still feel fear. But now, fear no longer makes my decisions for me. I understand that growth often looks like loss at first—that becoming yourself may require letting go of who you were trying to be. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: Ignoring your truth doesn’t make it disappear. It just waits, patiently, until you’re brave enough to listen. I’m still learning how to live honestly. But every day I choose honesty over fear, I feel a little more like myself. And for the first time, that feels like enough.
By Khan 23 days ago in Chapters
What I Found When I Finally Walked Away
What I Found When I Finally Walked Away BY: Ubaid For a long time, I believed staying was strength. I stayed in conversations that drained me, in expectations I never agreed to, and in a version of life that looked fine from the outside but felt hollow on the inside. I told myself that walking away meant giving up—that endurance was proof of character. So I stayed. Even when my chest felt heavy. Even when my voice felt smaller each day. Walking away wasn’t a dramatic decision. There was no big argument, no final explosion. It was quieter than that. It happened in a moment so ordinary that I almost missed it—a moment when I realized I was tired of explaining myself to people who had already decided who I was. That’s when I left. At first, what I found was silence. Not the peaceful kind people romanticize, but the uncomfortable kind. The kind that forces you to sit with your own thoughts, without distractions or excuses. I had spent so long reacting to others that I didn’t know what to do without their noise. I kept reaching for my phone, my habits, my old routines—anything to avoid listening to myself. But silence has a way of teaching patience. In that quiet space, I found exhaustion I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge. I realized how much energy I had spent trying to be understood by people who weren’t listening. How many times I had shrunk my needs to make others comfortable. How often I had chosen familiarity over honesty. Walking away didn’t immediately make me happier. That part surprised me. What it did was make me clearer. Clarity is not always gentle. It shows you patterns you ignored and boundaries you never set. It reminds you of the times you said “it’s fine” when it wasn’t, and the moments you accepted less because you were afraid of losing more. I also found grief. Not just for what was lost, but for what never existed. For the version of things I kept hoping would appear if I just waited longer or tried harder. Letting go meant accepting that some doors were never meant to open, no matter how patiently I knocked. But alongside grief, something unexpected began to grow. Relief. I no longer felt the constant pressure to perform, to prove, to stay relevant in spaces that didn’t value me. My days became lighter—not because life became easier, but because I stopped carrying weight that wasn’t mine. I found myself laughing again, not out of politeness but from somewhere deep and real. I noticed how my shoulders relaxed when I spoke freely. I slept better. I breathed better. Walking away also showed me who remained. Not everyone disappeared. A few people stayed—quietly, genuinely, without conditions. They didn’t demand explanations or take my distance personally. They simply met me where I was. And in doing so, they taught me that real connection doesn’t require constant sacrifice. Perhaps the most important thing I found was myself. Not the version shaped by expectations or fear, but the one that had been waiting patiently underneath it all. The one with opinions, limits, and dreams that didn’t need permission. I rediscovered interests I had abandoned and values I had compromised. I learned to trust my instincts again. I stopped confusing attachment with love. Walking away taught me that loyalty should never cost you your peace. That staying is only brave when it’s chosen freely—not when it’s driven by guilt, fear, or habit. And that leaving doesn’t erase the past; it simply stops it from controlling your future. Today, when I look back, I don’t regret staying as long as I did. It taught me what my limits were. But I’m grateful I finally listened when my inner voice whispered, this is not where you belong anymore. Walking away didn’t make me lose everything. It helped me find what truly mattered. And for the first time in a long while, I’m not afraid of where I’m going—because I know I’m finally walking toward myself.
By Ubaid 23 days ago in Chapters
Dragon Horse. Content Warning.
Nikolaos, Cadmus, and Ammi wait under the dark, angular wings of the Colchis Academy entrance, its shadow spreading over the clouds cloaking the sky.
By Wen Xiaosheng25 days ago in Chapters
Dragon Horse. Content Warning.
They called the steed Aithon. He had wings at his sides, so he could walk upon water without sinking. Then, all his comrades were taken from him. He left the sky to search for them, soaring under the surface, the swim stripping away his feathers.
By Wen Xiaosheng25 days ago in Chapters
Dragon Horse. Content Warning.
The first technique Aroon's grandfather teaches her is how to take a hit. The only way to strengthen a sword is to keep beating and beating the blade. His knee slams into her solar plexus, sucking all the air out of her lungs and squeezing enough tears out of her eyes to blur her vision in one swift move.
By Wen Xiaosheng25 days ago in Chapters
Tattoos & Rail Guns Chapter 15: The Chipmunk Killers Prepare For War
Lieutenant Sawyer had just seen the arrival of an APC carrying four powered armor suits. Lieutenant Prowse was inspecting the one she was to pilot, making sure that all of the systems were good and that the ammunition was as promised. She ran it through some basic drills before signing off on it; she was, after all, responsible for the expensive piece of equipment. The armorer delivering got a chill from her as she signed off on it.
By Jamais Jochim26 days ago in Chapters
The Cost of Words (pt 5)
Author's Note: This chapter is part of a rough draft of my novel The Cost of Words. I'm sharing it for feedback while I write and revise, with the intention of traditionally or independently publishing the final version. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
By 143Rosey30 days ago in Chapters
Tattoos and Rail Guns Chapter 14: Walker's New Blades
A few hours later, Lellend's steam head was a little more steamier than usual. He hated dealing with Deezle the Dork. He knocked and the door opened. No servant was there. Unimpressed, he walked straight in. The elder demon was at his desk, working on some sort of drawing. “So, Lellend, how are you this afternoon?”
By Jamais Jochimabout a month ago in Chapters
Corruption, Power, and Global Security Concerns
China’s Military Under Scrutiny: Corruption, Power, and Global Security Concerns China’s military, known as the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), is facing increased attention after reports of investigations into senior officials. According to international media, including reports discussed by security analysts, China has placed high-ranking military figures under investigation as part of its long-running anti-corruption campaign. While China describes these actions as internal discipline, the developments have raised questions about stability, command control, and global security.
By Wings of Time about a month ago in Chapters
The Cost Of Words (pt 4)
Author's Note: This chapter is part of a rough draft of my novel The Cost of Words. I'm sharing it for feedback while I write and revise, with the intention of traditionally or independently publishing the final version. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
By 143Roseyabout a month ago in Chapters
The Cost Of Words (pt 3)
Author's Note: This chapter is part of a rough draft of my novel The Cost of Words. I'm sharing it for feedback while I write and revise, with the intention of traditionally or independently publishing the final version. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
By 143Roseyabout a month ago in Chapters
Burn the world
She screamed. The scene was unfolding, just like every nightmare and she was powerless. Digging her toes into the ground she lunged forward against the hands wrapped around her arms. They broke, or maybe they let go because they knew she was too late. Too late to save him. He broke the clearing and she screamed again. Running as fast as fairy wings could carry her. Jared locked eyes with her and he could see her pleading, “please god no.” But he was steel resolve, all cold, all calculating. They collided as thunder cracked, his arms wrapping around her. Hot lead seared into her side, into her shoulder, crack, crack, crack again. The bullets burnt lines through the air. Her body collapsed. She could feel warm blood spreading down her back. He growled, defiantly gently laying her to the side. He reached his will out toward the thunder and ripped metal and tore flesh. The smell of blood filled him as he reached to the left side. Bullets thundered from the surrounding troops, she watched them hit, hit, hit, hit, 4 maybe 5. He went down on one knee but his will remained unbroken. Soldiers screamed as their weaponry broke, and shrapnel tore flesh and shattered bone. But there were too many. Already the ranks reformed in front of them, the wounded and dying stepped on by the second group. They leveled off weaponry and fired. Jared ripped the right column of men apart, but his body jerked. Even his advanced healing rate could only cover so much damage. Blood was soaking through his shirt.
By Maili Paulabout a month ago in Chapters