Friendship
The Disappearing Act:. AI-Generated.
I hadn’t heard from Zara in three days. That wasn’t uncommon—she was the sort of individual who disappeared for some time, then came again with stories that made you question truth. but this time felt one-of-a-kind.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
Can you change your fate?
I guess it all depends on which angle you are looking at this, an argument can be made about how our actions led us down a certain path and eventually to a specific place and another can be made about how our environment is responsible for all the things we did. Either ways I think it all comes down to the same thing at the end of the day.
By real Jema2 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
Mastering Conflict with the Indirect Aggressor
Engaging in a debate or conflict with an individual who employs passive-aggressive tactics can be profoundly frustrating, often leaving you exhausted and questioning your own perceptions. Unlike overt aggression, which is direct and confrontational, passive-aggression is a subterranean form of hostility, marked by a resistance to demands for adequate performance in social or occupational situations, frequently alternating between obstructionism and deliberate inefficiency. It is a veiled attempt to exert control, punish, or express anger without the personal risk of open confrontation.
By Humberto Jaeres3 months ago in Confessions
“The Last Message He Never Read”
The Last Message He Never Read By[Ali Rehman] I held my phone in trembling hands, the screen glowing softly in the dim light of my bedroom. There it was — the message I had typed out hours ago, words I’d rehearsed over and over in my mind but never dared to send.
By Ali Rehman3 months ago in Confessions
I Didn’t Walk Away I Just Stopped Walking Toward What Hurt Me
There wasn’t a dramatic ending. No slammed doors. No announcements. No “I deserve better” speech. Just one ordinary day, I woke up and realized my energy felt too expensive to waste on places where I kept shrinking.
By Ayesha Writes3 months ago in Confessions
Why I Stopped Chasing Motivation (And What I Do Instead)
For most of my twenties, I chased motivation the way people chase quick success. I’d watch endless motivational videos, read self-improvement quotes, and tell myself that tomorrow I’d finally start being productive. Tomorrow, I’d wake up early, crush my goals, and live like the people in those inspiring montages. But tomorrow rarely came. And when it did, I felt the same lack of drive, the same resistance, the same craving for another dose of motivation to get going.
By Umar Faiz3 months ago in Confessions
The Fall of the Queen’s Favorite: How Prince Andrew Lost His Title, His Home, and His Place in the Monarchy
For decades, Prince Andrew lived in a world built on power, privilege, and royal protection. The Queen’s favorite son, the Duke of York, enjoyed all the trappings of royal life — a grand estate, military honors, and a public image once polished to perfection. But that life has now crumbled.
By Behind the Curtain3 months ago in Confessions
(Part 2) To the Man I Was at 19: A Letter from You - 12 Years Wiser (What God Was Doing All Along)
Hey, You spent so much time wondering where God was in all of it. What you did not see then was that He was never far. Every moment you felt overlooked or misunderstood, He was guiding you through lessons that cannot be taught by comfort. You were not abandoned; you were being equipped.
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast3 months ago in Confessions
(Part 1) To the Man I Was at 19: A Letter from You - 12 Years Wiser
Hey, You don’t realize it now, but the way you feel everything so strongly is not a flaw. It is proof that your heart works exactly as it should. You care deeply, you hurt deeply, and you see the world through empathy before logic. That is not weakness. It is the foundation of the man you will become.
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast3 months ago in Confessions
