Humanity
What Barbie and TV Taught Me About My Body
Barbie’s waist was about the circumference of a quarter. That was my first body lesson. I did not even think about how my body looked until third grade, when someone made a comment about my stirrup leggings. It was not shouted. It was not cruel in a dramatic way. It was casual. Thoughtless. The kind of comment that lands because it was never meant to. In that instant, I went from being a kid to being a body. And in my head, I have felt fat ever since.
By Danielle Katsouros14 days ago in Confessions
The Last Train to Nowhere
It’s not the rattling, metallic grind of the wheels that wakes me up these nights, not anymore. It’s the silence. That particular kind of dead quiet you only get after the last carriage has rumbled out of sight, leaving you standing on a platform that feels suddenly too big, too empty. And then the cold seeps into your bones, deeper than any winter wind. That’s what I hear.
By HAADI15 days ago in Confessions
Who a person is to begin with
I recently entered into an argument with a long time friend, we argued about politics and on our point of view when it came to global politics happening right now in the world, I’ll spare you the details, the main point was I disagreed with how it was being done meanwhile he agreed.
By real Jema15 days ago in Confessions
I Didn’t Know I Was Allowed to Say No
No one raised their voice. No one threatened anything. That’s what makes it hard to explain. It happened in a room that felt official enough to be intimidating and ordinary enough to seem safe. The kind of place where clocks tick too loudly and the chairs are meant to keep you alert, not comfortable. Someone stood while I sat. Someone spoke while I listened. The imbalance was subtle, but it was there.
By Megan Stroup15 days ago in Confessions
Thank You Too 2025
THANK YOU 2025 (VOCAL) Reflection of the past five years as we head into 2026 just a few thank yous. 1) Thank you too, my mum and dad for always no matter what being proud of me and letting me reach for the sky's with my wild last minute idea a.k.a traveling to New York on my own and trusting me and knowing that i will be ok, and for also being the best parents a girl could ask for
By H J Myers15 days ago in Confessions
Between Hate and Love
Have you ever paused to wonder how quickly love can turn into hate—or how hate can quietly mask love beneath the surface? One moment you care deeply, and the next you feel anger, resentment, or distance. This emotional tension is something almost everyone experiences, yet few truly understand. Between hate and love lies a powerful, confusing, and deeply human space—one that shapes our relationships, decisions, and even our sense of self.
By Nawaz Hassan15 days ago in Confessions
The Quiet Power of Presence: Trust, Desire, and the Weight of Being
I can still feel the chill of that evening, the way it made my skin keenly aware of itself. I leaned against the balcony railing of a small apartment, watching the streetlights flicker below, glowing softly through the dimming dusk. He was there, a few steps away, his gaze on the streets as if he could read the rhythm of life beneath him. There was nothing performative in his posture, no dramatic gesture to draw attention. Yet the way he existed in that space—calm, grounded, and unassuming—pulled me in. I became painfully aware of how his presence shaped the air around him, shaping me in subtle, unnameable ways.
By SATPOWER15 days ago in Confessions
Word of the Day: ホチキス. Top Story - December 2025.
I don't know the word for Staples. I remember I used to think that Hochikisu was an Onomatopoeia for a stapler rather than a brand name. I am pretty sure I already have this title as a theme, which is making me feel many sort of ways as Vocal is harassing me about payments currently.
By Kayla McIntosh16 days ago in Confessions
Charity Never Fades”. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
in a small village surrounded by fields and dusty roads, there lived an elderly woman named Asha. Her house was a tiny mud hut with a leaking roof and cracked walls, but it was always clean. Asha had lived a hard life. She had lost her husband many years ago and had no children to support her. To earn a living, she woke up early every morning, collected wild flowers from the nearby forest, and sold them beside the road.
By M Saif17 days ago in Confessions
Japan’s Occupation of Indonesia: When “Asian Liberation” Turned Into Systematic Brutality. Content Warning.
During the chaos of World War II, as Southeast Asia became a battleground for competing empires, Japan entered Indonesia under a slogan that appeared revolutionary at the time: Asia for Asians. To a population that had endured more than three centuries of Dutch colonial rule, the collapse of European authority in 1942 seemed, at first, like the dawn of a new era. It was not. What followed was not liberation, but a militarized occupation that proved more violent, more intrusive, and in many ways more destructive than the colonial system it replaced. Within three years, Japan reshaped Indonesian society through fear, forced labor, starvation, and cultural coercion—leaving scars that remain deeply embedded in the nation’s collective memory. Indonesia was, and remains, a predominantly Muslim society. Islam was not only a religion, but the backbone of social organization, education, and moral authority. Mosques, scholars, and Islamic associations connected villages across the archipelago, forming networks capable of mobilizing large segments of the population. To the Japanese military administration, this was not spirituality—it was a potential threat. From the earliest months of occupation, Islam was treated as a security issue. Religious schools were closed or tightly restricted. Sermons were censored, and imams were required to submit their speeches for approval. Major Islamic organizations were placed under constant surveillance, not because they opposed Japan at the time, but because the occupation understood that faith-based unity could quickly turn into organized resistance. The most catastrophic policy imposed on Indonesians was the forced labor system known as Romusha. Entire communities were emptied overnight. Young men were taken by force and transported to work sites deep in jungles, mountains, and remote construction zones. They were used to build roads, military facilities, and railways under inhumane conditions—without adequate food, medical care, or rest. Death was routine. Starvation, disease, beatings, and exhaustion claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, and some estimates suggest the number may exceed one million. There were no proper records. To be taken as a Romusha laborer was, in effect, to disappear. One of the most infamous projects was the Burma–Thailand “Death Railway.” While international narratives often focus on Allied prisoners of war, far less attention has been given to Indonesian Muslim laborers, who constituted a larger portion of the workforce and suffered even higher mortality—without names, graves, or recognition. Women were subjected to a different form of violence. The Japanese military established a widespread system of sexual slavery known as the “comfort women” system. Thousands of Indonesian Muslim girls were abducted from their villages and confined in military facilities, where they were repeatedly abused. For decades, silence surrounded this crime—not because it was unknown, but because shame, fear, and social pressure buried the victims’ voices. Economic life collapsed under the demands of Japan’s total war strategy. Rice harvests were confiscated to supply the military, transforming food into a weapon of control. By 1944 and 1945, famine spread across large parts of Indonesia. Villagers survived on wild plants, while child mortality rates soared. Hunger was not incidental—it was systemic. Any attempt at dissent was met with extreme punishment. Religious scholars who spoke out were executed publicly, imprisoned, or buried alive. Education was restructured to glorify the Japanese emperor, portrayed as a divine figure. Teaching Arabic and the Qur’an was restricted, and children were forced to recite imperial slogans that directly contradicted their religious beliefs. When Japan surrendered in August 1945, it left behind a devastated nation—exhausted, hungry, and traumatized. Yet paradoxically, this period of intense suffering accelerated Indonesia’s path toward independence. Within days of Japan’s defeat, Indonesian leaders declared sovereignty, having learned firsthand that no foreign power’s slogan could substitute for genuine self-determination. Japan’s occupation of Indonesia stands as a stark historical lesson: political narratives of “liberation” can conceal systems of exploitation and mass violence. And for Indonesia’s Muslim population, the cost of that deception was paid in blood, dignity, and generations of silence.
By Echoes of the Soul18 days ago in Confessions
The Ghost on the Floorboards
The house breathes around me. It’s an old house, full of settling groans and the low hum of the refrigerator. Two in the morning, another Tuesday, another bottle of cheap whiskey working its way through my bloodstream. The wife's asleep upstairs, snoring softly, a familiar, comforting sound, if you don’t think about it too hard. The kids, grown now, gone. Just me, the bottle, and the goddamn moonlight pouring in through the living room window, painting stripes across the hardwood.
By HAADI19 days ago in Confessions
