Childhood
"From Enemies to Equals: The Tale of a Cat and Mouse"
In a dense, sun-dappled forest where the trees whispered secrets and the streams sang lullabies, lived a clever little mouse named Milo and a fierce, sleek cat named Cleo. Like every tale you've heard before, they were supposed to be enemies. After all, cats chase mice, and mice run for their lives. That was the law of the jungle—or so it had always been.
By syed waqar ahmed8 months ago in Confessions
ChatGPT Is Poisoning Your Brain…
ChatGPT’s tendency to be overly supportive and encouraging is eating your brain alive. A ChatGPT session is an echo chamber to end all other echo chambers — it’s just you, an overly friendly AI, and all your thoughts, dreams, desires, and secrets endlessly affirmed, validated, and supported.
By Olivia Chastity8 months ago in Confessions
How Long Can You Wait for a Bi-Curious Man to Finally Kiss You?
That Almost Kiss… What Does It Mean? You’ve been hanging out, laughing a little too hard at his jokes, sitting a little too close on the couch — and yet, he hasn’t kissed you. If you’re into a bi-curious man, the emotional dance can feel both electric and endlessly uncertain. So, how long is too long to wait for that first kiss?
By Olivia Chastity8 months ago in Confessions
Can a Broken Heart Be Fatal?
Heartbreak is a universal human experience, often described as a crushing emotional pain that feels almost physical. Whether it’s the end of a romantic relationship, the loss of a loved one, or a profound betrayal, the term "heartbreak" captures the visceral agony of emotional loss. But can heartbreak go beyond metaphor and actually threaten our lives? Can we, in fact, die from a broken heart? The answer lies at the intersection of emotion, physiology, and medical science, and it’s more complex than you might think.
By Doctor Strange8 months ago in Confessions
What Happens When Intimacy is Absent in Relationships
Men and women are made for each other to provide peace, contentment, emotional safety, resilience, and satisfaction. This concept is widespread in the teachings of every religion, whether Christian, Muslim, Hindu, or others.
By Iqra Aslam8 months ago in Confessions
My Sad 20s
“They say your 20s are for finding yourself—what no one tells you is, sometimes, you find someone else instead.” I always thought sadness was loud—something that screamed through closed doors and kept you awake at night. But in my 20s, I learned that sadness can be quiet too. It whispers. It lingers. And sometimes, it wears your own face.
By USAMA KHAN8 months ago in Confessions
Lust
I can’t help picturing you naked whenever I see you. Whether during the day, when you come by to play with my sister, or when I lay in bed at night staring at the cluster of stars beyond my window. I gaze at the moon and it’s your face I see staring down at me. Expressionless. Sometimes I spot a twitch in your lips but cannot tell what it means or foretells. Or maybe I’m too young and naive to devine its meaning.
By Philip OYOK8 months ago in Confessions
The Crown Made of Thorns
I hate crying! That's insane, right? I was 11. I was playing with my friends, and some of them were slightly older than me, and they told me we would be playing a game, and suddenly one of the older sisters who was playing with us stood up and told us whoever won would be crowned with this beautiful paper crown. Everyone shouted, Hurray, sure, sure, and I was so happy. I am not even lying; I was so happy. After a few minutes, everybody held hands and made a circle, and I was just following what they were doing. Suddenly one girl who was a few years older than me dragged me to the middle of the circle. She said, Welcome, Iris, and I had no idea what was happening, and suddenly she placed a paper crown on my head, and I was so happy. Everyone clapped and started laughing, but. I had no idea why they were laughing. Suddenly the girl who crowned me spoke congratulations. Congratulations on being the crybaby. She told kudos for being able to be weeper-in-chief. I didn't get what was going on at first and was trying to process everything for the moment. And the giggles turned into mimicked sobs. They were pretending to cry—ugly, exaggerated sobs. It hit me like the bucket of cold water filled with ice in the winter season. So, this wasn't a game. This was a joke, and I was the punchline. Apparently, I cried too much over small things and over big things. I used to spill my emotions over the things that might not be a big deal to other people. I was loud, I was messy, I was expressive maybe a little more. I used to rant about everything, every feeling, to my mother. I also smiled with them by taking off the crown and holding the crown in my hand. I swear I couldn't laugh. My throat was burning. I remember I ran home without saying anything. I ran so fast. Opened the door, dang, my mother asked what had happened, but I replied, Nothing, Mom, I forgot something, and went to the other room. My mother told I am going to the market, ok? I have prepared lunch for you. Eat, ok?" I never wanted to be alone before this. I didn't rant about what has happened to me with my mother. I didn't say a word to anyone. I went to the other room and started to cry, and I cried a lot, like a lot. I cried and cried. I sobbed for so many hours, and I wept alone. For the last time, I cried too much. That was just a part of the joke for them, but that joke implanted a non-recurable fear in the brain of an 11-year-old child, which has not healed to this day. Now she is 22 and still holds that phobia. After that incident, I don't remember crying much. Even my close ones have seen me crying or being emotional 2-3 times throughout, and now they call me cold. I am not cold. I am not unemotional. I am scared. Scared that if I let my emotions surface, they will be dismissed. I was a chaotic child. But over time, I learned that my emotions were too much for others. The transformation wasn't a choice ; it was just a shield for the protection of my inner child. To be seen and heard like that sometimes might result in distance with feelings. Is this correct?
By Iris8 months ago in Confessions
My Father Kicked Me Out, But I Got the Last Laugh
Growing up, my father was never the kind of man to show much love. He was strict, cold, and believed in “tough love.” I tried my best to please him, but nothing I did was ever good enough. If I got a B in school, he asked why I didn’t get an A. If I cleaned the kitchen, he said I missed a spot. I spent most of my life walking on eggshells around him.
By Lady Diamond8 months ago in Confessions
