Bad habits
Real Story of Future
1. The Spark Kael Vargas was fifteen the day the sky cracked open. He remembered the heat before he remembered the light. It came like a second sun—sudden, white-hot, and humming with a frequency that made his bones ache. Across the Chilean Andes, lights danced in unnatural patterns, mimicking auroras that had no business in the southern hemisphere.
By Gabriela Tone10 months ago in Confessions
Nefilims
Nephilim: The Mysterious Giants of the Ancient World Few figures in ancient religious texts have sparked as much mystery, fascination, and controversy as the **Nephilim**. Shrouded in ambiguity and mentioned only briefly in the Bible, these enigmatic beings have become the subject of centuries of speculation among theologians, historians, and even conspiracy theorists.
By Gabriela Tone10 months ago in Confessions
The Dangerous Lover
(Dark Romance - Part 6) “Look Neel, I’m really grateful to you all. You took care of my Brishti like your own family when she was sick. But don’t forget one thing—Brishti is my wife. So, the farther you stay away from her, the better it’ll be for you. You have no idea how dangerous I can be when I’m not in a good mood.”
By Sabiha Sums10 months ago in Confessions
Bad mood can be a cry for help.
It's getting really hard for me. There are days when I don't even recognize myself. And I don't like this version of me. I was born happy, but the world is wearing me down. My body keeps moving, but my soul feels lost. I get impatient, irritated with everything and everyone, craving silence, but also longing for comfort. And I don’t have that option. Because I’ve always been the on who gave comfort.metimes I feel so ashamed… It’s like I’m always the last one to understand what’s happening in my own life. But deep down, I know exactly what happened. And that’s what hurts the most.
By Persephone10 months ago in Confessions
The Dangerous Love
(Dark Romance part :4) Bristy went into the room and walked toward the balcony. The balcony was quite large. Several potted flower plants were lined up, and beside them was a swing. Bristy sat down on the swing. Just then, her eyes fell on a guitar nearby. She picked it up and started examining it curiously.
By Sabiha Sums10 months ago in Confessions
When Greatness Meets Clippers: Ronaldo Gets a Cut from Messi
There are rivalries in sport, and then there’s Messi vs. Ronaldo — a saga so iconic that it has defined generations, divided dinner tables, and sparked endless Twitter debates. But what if that legendary rivalry found itself not on the pitch... but in a barbershop?
By Sultan Khan10 months ago in Confessions
CHILDHOOD . Content Warning.
Once upon a time, in a small village surrounded by tall trees and colorful flowers, there lived a young boy named Leo. Leo was full of curiosity, always eager to explore the world around him. He loved the sound of birds singing in the morning, the feel of soft grass under his bare feet, and the warmth of the sun on his face. He lived in a cozy little cottage with his family, and though they didn't have much, their home was always filled with laughter and love.
By proffessor hafeez10 months ago in Confessions
The Day I Stopped Pretending to Be Fine
I remember the day itself, as though it were yesterday. It wasn't a particularly odd day at the surface level. The sky was its normal shade of grey, the hum of city life filled the periphery, and I was trudging along in the routines of another run-of-the-mill day. But below, I was breaking apart.
By Bari Mir Rahamatul10 months ago in Confessions
The Art of Living Lightly: A Symphony of Small Things
I. Grand Theatre of the Everyday Life My dear reader, the Grand Theatre of the Everyday Life is not a dreadful affair to be suffered through, nor a burdensome ledger of duties to be tallied and settled. It is a theatre — no, a carnival — splendid and tragic, absurd and luminous, unfolding in your living room, at bus stops, in the slicing of apples and the tying of shoelaces. We are all actors, unwitting but dazzling, wearing bathrobes instead of cloaks, reciting soliloquies to our pets, and dreaming revolution between morning coffee and emails. What folly to think only philosophers wear long beards and live in ivory towers! Philosophy is not reserved for musty books and ponderous monks. It is found in the boiled egg, in a late train, in the laughter shared with a stranger. To live well is to philosophize well, not with the tongue, but with the soul.
By Reshal Manzoor 10 months ago in Confessions
