Humanity
Why it's so Damn Hard to Hate Starbucks
The aroma of coffee swirling in the air, friendly baristas greeting customers by their first name, regulars chatting about the latest news—walking into a coffee shop just feels like home. And while I wish the coffee shops I visited were the cute little shops in the trendy parts of town, they are not. My coffee shop is Starbucks.
By wanderluster4 years ago in Confessions
Regretting Chips and Salsa
When I was growing up, I didn't eat many chips. My mother would always make dinner and breakfast on weekends. She has raised many children and many at the same time, so I don't blame her anymore for not letting us snack a lot. Money was also always scarce so we appreciated what food we had, and made the most of it. Country cooking or southern homestyle cooking is what I grew up on always, so it was no surprise that by eighth grade, I was four foot nine inches and almost two hundred pounds. I also had braces and glasses simultaneously, but my weight was my biggest insecurity. I was fat shamed by my parents, stricken with negative comments about my body or the way I was made and even laughed at. Kids at school also made fun of me, but also bullied me in ways that made me uncomfortable, sexually. I was a child. A child with a growing body and the world is so terrible sometimes. I realize now as an adult, those bullies were heavily influenced by their parents and personal external circumstances. As an eight grader though, anticipating a new start at high school, I was not planning on being bullied to that level ever again.
By Autumn Rose4 years ago in Confessions
My 92-Year-Old Neighbor Taught Me Powerful Life Lessons
I am an Indian who has spent the last ten years in Warsaw, Poland. I’ve picked up the Polish language gradually and can understand it much better than I can speak it. When I first landed in Poland in 2012, one of the first things that startled me was the sheer number of very old men and women wandering the streets all by themselves. Some looked 90 years or older. Most of them had walking aids and were snailing through the streets with extreme difficulty.
By The Soulful Scribbler 4 years ago in Confessions
Haunted, Spooky, Scary Time
Waking early to get a start in life, only to fall by the wayside and give up on stride. Back in a corner against all odds, wondering what’s next in life, before we lose it all. Quarantine time where all was home, some was out there, some became alone. A weekend to a busy work week, while you get no sleep and fear the deep. Like puppets with string, we feed the system, move along and carry the wisdom. Knowledge of pain and struggle that we face, stitched to life, that should no longer break.
By The Kind Quill4 years ago in Confessions
The Skinny Girl Diary
Dear World, All my life I have been a whopping 110 pounds. I have been bullied and been teased about it, being skinny doesn't have its perks. None at all. I find myself loathing my self image. I don't like it. I don't like that I can eat like 3 hungry wildebeests and still be the same size.
By Marissa Jeffries4 years ago in Confessions
She is a Student Nurse, Businesswoman, Artist, and Survivor Of Police Brutality.
For Women’s History Month, I want to dedicate this story to a woman who inspires me to bow in prayer to honor God for bringing knowledge, health and purpose to my life. This woman is resilient, intelligent, bodacious, original, and inspirational. Her decision to live the good life is admirable. She survived police brutality in Hollywood, Florida, while studying for her nursing degree. With will and determination, she began a black-owned business while she recovered her mental and physical health in NYC.
By Genesis Smalls4 years ago in Confessions
Living Life by the Square Inch
I dream in inches. Eight more inches and I could open my bedroom door all the way. Six more inches up and another layer of bookcase will fit. And, oh please, I breathe, just 4 extra inches tall would open up a whole world of storage under the bed. Clearly, these are waking dreams. Daydreams, really.
By Maria Shimizu Christensen4 years ago in Confessions
THE Typewriter
Yes, I am writing about a manual, ribbon typewriter, made in Spain sometime in the 1970s or early 1980s that was small, compact, and blue. It did not look imposing; it did though forever put so many's thoughts onto paper for the world to see. Some of these words would get the attention of World Leaders and University Instructors.
By Bruce Curle `4 years ago in Confessions
Screw Me Over
“I’d like to end my presentation with a quote from Toni Morrison. She said ‘The function of freedom is to free someone else.’ I believe that’s why it’s our obligation to educate instead of hate. We have to think about our future. If one doesn’t want to hear what you’re saying, they give up that chance for freedom and stay stuck in their own minds.”
By Rena4 years ago in Confessions
Sofia Duarte's Awakening
This is my fiftieth story. We crossed paths, therefore I believe that I am missing a proper introduction: “Hi, there! My handle is Sofia Duarte, and I write for survival.” I could say. “My writing started in Portuguese when I needed to stay alive — I wanted to die so hard.”
By Sofia Duarte4 years ago in Confessions
Being A Man
I was born in the fifties and brought up in an environment where misogyny and racism were the norm and very acceptable , practiced on a daily basis. Growing up I cannot remember any non white kids in primary or secondary school , maybe that’s selective memory, but looking back that is really strange.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 4 years ago in Confessions
