Childhood
The Secret Battle I’ve Been Fighting in Silence
I’ve always been the one who smiles, laughs, and tries to keep life light for everyone around me. From the outside, it looked like I had everything under control. Friends, family, even strangers probably thought I was confident, happy, and “put together.” But behind that smile was a secret—a relentless, invisible battle I never wanted anyone to see: anxiety.
By Shakil Sorkar2 months ago in Confessions
The Thing I Pretend Doesn’t Bother Me (But Actually Does)
I’ve always prided myself on being easygoing, the type of person who goes with the flow. I laugh off small annoyances, shrug off mistakes, and tell myself that everything is “fine” even when it isn’t. On the surface, it looks like I have it all together. But behind that smile is a truth I rarely admit: I’m tired of pretending that certain things don’t bother me—because they do.
By Shakil Sorkar2 months ago in Confessions
We Talk All Day Online — But No One Really Connects Anymore
I spend hours every day talking to people — or at least it feels like I do. My phone buzzes with messages, memes, and notifications. Friends send voice notes, group chats explode with opinions, and someone always seems to be typing. But when the screen goes dark, the silence feels heavier than ever.
By Shakil Sorkar2 months ago in Confessions
aspirations of grandeur
i'm becoming more comfortable with the idea that i have a delusional disorder. in fact, it would do a great deal to explain why i have persistent delusions about my identity that go back for years. that, or because i married someone who believed everything my delusional thirteen-year-old self said back then as part of a folie à deux. see, my life is and always has been a wild ride, even when it isn't. come with me on a quick jaunt through the highlights.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist2 months ago in Confessions
Mother, I have things haunting me
Dear Mother, Am just hoping you can hear me. That the singing of the angels is not so loud to block out what I am trying to say to you. You know I have always wanted to ask you, “how does it feel to be in heaven?”. But every time I try, I choke on my words. Maybe it is a sign am not supposed to ask about that side of things. It has been two decades now since your death in that car accident. At that time, I was still a new born baby, just having entered this world, completely clueless of what was in store for me. Your death was like a strike of lighting, it came without notice. It was a storm in a dark night and left many of us paralyzed up to this very moment. You did not get the chance to hug me or take me for long walks along the beach. And for the times I dreamt that there were monsters under my bed, I woke up screaming alone for I had believed it is only mothers who saved their children from such bad dreams. Lately, my mind has been playing tricks on me, wanting me to believe that I have seen you somewhere in the mall, grocery store or on the train. But I guess that is how my body is still trying to cope with the grief even after all these years. Because how can I start seeing ghosts of you when the only things you left me with were pictures of you. I don’t know why but I still tell everyone the legend of how you disappeared, maybe to calm my nerves a bit. Mother, those years of when I was just a baby are long gone, am now a big boy. Am studying college and very soon I will be graduating with a degree in French literature but I know, just like everyone else that you won’t be around to congratulate me upon finishing college. That’s ok because I completely understand everything. Mama, this is probably like the seventeenth letter am writing to you. I have been doing this since I was three. It has always been a secret ritual of mine, one I can’t do without. It makes May one of my best months, better than December. I remember the first letter I wrote to you, father said that we would have to wait for the doves to come pick it and bring to heaven. But now I know, that there is no such a thing, it was all some sort fairytale. Am not complaining. Today’s letter I should say is a little bit special, because for the first time, I am writing from my heart and it freaks me out. For the record, I have never been an open book. I have always kept to myself which is not surprising because I was told you were exactly like me, introverted. I want to let you in on a secret but promise me you won’t cringe. Call it a sad beautiful confession, I heard everybody has one. Mine has been buried so deep, like a pirate’s treasure, never having seen the light of day. You very well know you are among the few people that I trust. So, where do I begin? Okay I hope this doesn’t sound awful but mum, I am gay. I like men and I have known this about myself for quite some time now. I have been exploring what it means. It has taught me to be patient and love myself unconditionally because where I live now, it’s sort of like a big crime being gay, you’re are either straight or straight. I haven’t even told father about it because I don’t know how he will take it. Being gay is hard but being a black gay man is even harder. I haven’t seen any stronger widowers like father. Telling him may turn his whole world upside down. I don’t want that. When I first realized around age ten that I had these feelings for other boys, I would cry myself to sleep, begging God to take away that part of me. Every Sunday, I would debate whether to go to church or not as I believed God did not want me there. At school, it became harder for me to focus as the bullies were always on my back calling me all sorts of names. I almost dropped out of high school because it had occurred to me that that was not a space for people like us. Nowadays, I do not pray to God to make me straight, I pray for his blessings and protection and I think he has answered some of my prayers. Last summer, I think I met the lover of my life, Rio. It was actually bizarre because it happened on the internet, of all places. On our first date, I was nervous and even had plans of sabotaging any future meetings with him but I later realized that was me in anxious mode. Rio is sweet, kind, lovely, handsome and above all God fearing. He is the man of my dreams and some day I hope to marry him. It’s crazy but I have always envisioned being a father, having my small family to travel the world with. I think Rio will also make a good father. On the other hand, part of me is worried, like pretty badly. How do I face the people I love, to tell them I have been living a lie all my life. How do I explain to them that I haven’t been my authentic self for over ten years. Won’t some of my friends and family run away after hearing about my little secret? It is some of those fears that have kept me long in the closet. It’s times like this that I wish you were here, to tell me that it is all well that ends well. Mother, I need you. Am just hoping you can hear me.
By Alana Zian2 months ago in Confessions
So fragile, yet still standing.
We all carry invisible maps — drawn not with ink, but with memories, pain, and the quiet shifts inside us. This is mine. was too foolish to believe that being intelligent would make people see me, but maybe what’s killing me every day is simply that I am different from my family.
By The voice of a self-narrating soul2 months ago in Confessions
secrets well kept . Content Warning.
The funny thing about growing up is that the sudden change kind of sneaks up on you with stealth and precision and somehow it ends up dawning on you how much so much has changed right before your eyes and that your somehow no longer the same person you were a few years back which sounds so strange to even say or admit but i am acknowledging my growth no matter how little or too much it may be.
By songbird173 months ago in Confessions
