Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Confessions.
Red Flags
After I broke up with my ex, I went on a string of first dates that were bizarre, but always ended for principled reasons. The first was a man I had met on the dating app Tinder. Jake was tall, with dark hair and a friendly smile. We exchanged witty banter for a few days then agreed to meet at a bar in Astoria. We met up on the street corner, shook hands, and started walking towards Freddie’s Wine Bar. While we were walking he asked me if I worked out and when I told him I did, he asked how I liked to work out. At the time I rarely went to a yoga class and ran several times a week. “Yeah I can tell, you’re pretty skinny,” he said, which should have been a red flag him triggering me about my weight. But I let the date continue.
By Sarah Frances Hicks5 years ago in Confessions
The Gym
Left. Left. Left. “Ugh”. I feel like all of these dating apps are the same. I’m seeing all the same people writing the same things in all of their profiles. I mean I do the same but, that’s beside the point. I think I’ve tried at least ten so far. I shouldn’t be surprised this is a dud, yet I am. This is what I get for reading so many romance novels as a child.
By IntrovertedExrovert5 years ago in Confessions
A Night of Solace
I tugged at my dress as I entered the restaurant-bar. I mentally kicked myself in the behind for dressing uncomfortably on a first date. Who does this to themselves? I thought. I shook my head at myself. I wore one of those body-con dresses that hugs oh too tightly. I could barely breathe.
By Diana Sambula5 years ago in Confessions
Painful Memories
We all have embarrassing moments and fun/hysterical moments to share. What's mine, well let me tell you! It all started on a nice day. I was a cute 5 year old little girl. I had beautiful curls, a pink shirt as I remember and some shorts. Of course it was a fine day because I lived in sunny Florida. My mom handed me a granola bar and I took the leash for my dog that we hung on the wall off and clicked it on to my dog's collar. My dog was a cute white fluffy mix. I'm not sure what breed it was because I never asked my parents when I was little. But my cute but very disobedient dog's name was Snowflake, and I loved her so very much.
By Isabella Rios5 years ago in Confessions
Social Anxiety Made Me Do It
Social anxiety is a terrible, horrible, no good thing to have, but it does give you some good stories. Like tonight for example. I had booked myself a 90 minute, full body massage a few weeks back and have been excitedly awaiting ever since. I arrived at my appointment half an hour early, which was completely unnecessary, and waited in my car until it was time to check in. I explained to the masseur some of the aches that brought me in, and then she left the room to allow me to undress and lie down on the bed.
By Amanda Mitchell5 years ago in Confessions
War of Hearts
123rd Ave, Parkland County I let my breaths run loose through the thickening winded airs of Maryland as I slammed my body against the shielded realm. It was protected. Of course, this was the Azerial Hawke realm; he was the last man to survive what some like to call “The Women War.” I just call it a victory. We hadn’t had any commotion between ourselves since the war ended; everything was calm and still. But everything that dies comes with sacrifice; I knew this. I knew this first hand. I dared myself to face the war as a single soldier during operations; I practically used myself as bait. It worked until it didn’t. Until my blood was tingling with a different kind of sensation, one that had felt like boils of thick ooze and misty fog beneath my darkened skin. My blood was cursed with power, a power that let me rip through flesh with the anger beneath my stare. I never used it, and I never plan on using it in the future. Never. Well, not until now.
By Aida Fakhry5 years ago in Confessions
Days of Wine and Madness
Days of Wine and Madness By Kathleen Petrowski The bottom dropped out the day she finally left her husband. The tears wouldn’t stop, they were as unrelenting as his abuse. How could she love a man who was so obviously glad to get rid of her, she was nothing more to him than a burden, a responsibility, a toy for a while and then…nothing, he felt nothing and ridiculed her for feeling anything. She drove 223 miles not sure where she would sleep that night and when it got dark. She felt sort of lucky to find a motel with rooms for $39 a night. She had bought a bottle of gin and a flavored seltzer to help her wash it down so that she might drink enough to not care for the rest of the night, it worked.
By Kathleen Petrowski5 years ago in Confessions
Cajolery Of Hers
Cajolery Of Hers Author: Olivia (F.D.) Grace Why do you no longer speak to anyone, Grace asked? The best friends were packing together, "You spoke beautifully to people. You spoke with power, too many. "It's not that I don't talk to people," Olivia replied; it is why the ones who spoke become afraid to descend from their level of dignity from who they are? It seems as if no one can stoop down low enough to hear what I have to say. I've come to an understanding, Grace, that sometimes we have to abase ourselves sufficiently to others and listen; it can often be these writings or notes that are all too difficult. But hard to grasp, or maybe it's too obvious for our careful reflection. "Hey, do you like these heels?" Olivia asked.
By Olivia Grace 5 years ago in Confessions
