Humanity
The Alchemy of Love
Spoiler Alert: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho is discussed, including the ending. The quest for love consumed me for most of my life, which was a dark and twisting labyrinthine affair filled with frustrating dead ends, prison cells of my own creation, and more monsters, both within and without, than I care to count. There was a gnawing, aching, ravenous void inside me, a black hole of self-loathing and depression, and my warped mind believed for decades that love was the only thing that could fill it up. It turns out I was right, but not in the way that I thought.
By J. Otis Haas2 years ago in Confessions
I Thought I Knew
I thought I knew what love was, when I saw you walk in for the first time. When my instincts told me I wanted you, when I felt you brush against me only in passing. But you weren't mine, so as coworkers I gave you everything I had, all I had to give.
By Justin Coccimiglio2 years ago in Confessions
How I Overcame My Depression with Cooking and Prayer
I was trapped in a vicious cycle of depression, a silent enemy that robbed me of joy and hope. Every day was a struggle, and every night was a nightmare. I felt worthless, hopeless, and helpless. I tried to hide my pain behind a mask of smiles, but inside, I was falling apart.
By BizBas 2 years ago in Confessions
A Rose 🌹 is a Rose 🥀 is a Rose 💐
I say with quite an unswerving conviction that whatever form of posterity love ❤️ takes through me , it surely draws upon a wide variety . It’s range extends into similes, metaphors and as well into parodies, with underpinnings that make me tantalizingly closer to love more than any. It whispers sweet nothings as in verses carelessly spreading in sprees. Intently so, its Provence alongside its piercings, underlie in the following: Disclosure— Dear reader, this then, above all the deep down revelations, dares in exacting ( rather perfecting it, here and now,) the didactical tonal cleaves of love; vaunting nor wailing to the end of this excessive. To that, bear me in peace! And as is, it equals to—me celebrating you in me, as originally as can be. Indubitably so, for my sort of poetic utterances, perhaps landing more fairly, (now more than ever, ) over your eyes, to envision —WHITE brighter than bright , as in peace 🕊️. Though it may not be precisely clear but here comes a verse field of emotion depicting love as I view it … Love can be crafty, Love can be sweet, So is ,Such is , Said of it !
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Confessions
Ten Things About Me
Ten Facts About Me As much as I enjoy creating my content from my imagination, sometimes it is nice to take a brief break and do one of these viral prompts. I don’t consider myself to be a very interesting person, so we will see how this goes. We all have our own unique stories to tell and we each do it in our own ways.
By Sarah Tagert2 years ago in Confessions
Love
When I was younger all the books, movies and songs had taught me that love is no matter what happens. That no matter how hurt, sad and betrayed you are, you stick next to that person, supporting them. You never give up on them, through thick and thin. I wish I knew how wrong they all were. How delusional and desperate they all were.
By Kristina Brule2 years ago in Confessions
Hi, I am your clone
"Reporting live on news, I'm here with interviewer 'Carlo Caprese' here to talk about his interview with celebrity impersonator 'Savannah Lionel.' Savannah reported to journalist 'Dustin Limbo' after the death of 'Janice Kewen', about the defining horrors of the past years portraying her as an 'impersonator', rather more a clone... for actress, singer and dancer Kewen.
By Kodah2 years ago in Confessions
Facebook Ruined My Life
I hate Facebook. Really. I mean, I was sailing through life in blissful ignorance before Mark Zuckerberg came along and messed things up. Seriously, it was all rainbows and unicorns back in the day. Then, suddenly, it’s 2004, and BAM! There’s Facebook.
By Randy Baker2 years ago in Confessions
A Love I Didn't Expect...
Dear Love, Wow. Where do I start? At this point in my life, I feel like we have such a toxic relationship. On the one hand, I can't stand you. You are such a bitch. I mean when I was little all I ever wanted was to be loved and accepted for who I was, every single part of me but other than a couple of members in my family, I never really got that. More importantly, I never got that from the one person that mattered the most to me, my mother. I was a lacking girl. You left me in the cold; all I had was myself and God's love covering me in warmth. I've felt so betrayed by you and stabbed in the back. The very one that gave me life taught me to hate myself. Then, you gave again. I received Jay, my beautiful perfectly imperfect first love. My heart was so codependent at this point due to not only my mother but the judgments I received and the strict morals I was expected to live by enforced by my mother, stepfather, and my father. Jay, too, had grown codependent over the years from both his parents. Together, our hearts are bound in a way that cannot break easily. Some may call it a trauma bond. We were each other's escapes until we realized that we needed something deeper that the other couldn't give and then that too ended. You're such a cruel mistress love. You give and then you take. Your many limbs twist and weave in a way that no one person could ever figure out on their own. Your ways are complicated and yet simple. After Jay, I fell and I fell hard. His name is not important. At first, I fell so I wouldn't feel the pain of losing Jay. Also, I didn't yet know how to trust and love myself; how to rely on me and me alone. Or God and God alone I should say. That relationship started so blissfully. I was finally being taken care of for once in my life. For once, someone was putting me first. However, it was a trick, wasn't it? A smoke show until the truth came out. Soon, he started treating me like his slave. I was there to take care of the children, clean the house, work, and please him when he wanted it. If he was doing anything out of place or anything I was concerned about, sure at first we could discuss it but slowly it became he would do whatever he wanted to do regardless of my opinion. That ended terribly. He, too, taught me how to hate myself. As it turns out, that was never love because someone who can teach hate doesn't love truly. I spent a while recovering and as it turned out, my first love still loved me but not enough. It never has been enough has it, love? Have I ever been enough? I know now that I have. You have not given me a partner which is something I have always longed for but you have given me something else which is perhaps even more beautiful...
By Lindsey Altom2 years ago in Confessions
Dejanelle
A true Queen will adjust another Queen’s crown. Women who pick up other women in adversity, in question, in fear, in jealousy; even if you dislike a woman or disagree with her there is no need to tear another woman down. In a world where women have been subjected to the world of men, at the hands of men, at the look down upon by men; it can be hauntingly concerning and scary. It is not easy being a woman. It is not easy being a man either but both of us suffer at the hands of other men’s decisions and desires.
By Cadma2 years ago in Confessions
