Humanity

Confessions of a Closet Writer
I have a confession. I am a closet writer. I’m an aspiring author. I’ve written two first completed first drafts, currently on my fourth draft of one of my six novels. I write poems. I write blogs that I hesitate to put my name on and I journal.
By A.N.Tipton5 years ago in Confessions
To The Little Girl Who Thinks She Is Broken
To you, The little girl with the wide green eyes, messy dark curls, and a crooked toothed smile. There was a time when you were totally and completely innocent to all the ways that the world and the people in it could hurt you. But that is a time that as an adult, you will not be able to remember. You will try, you will try so awfully hard. But unfortunately, you learned at a young age how the world chews up and spits out anyone even the slightest bit different. You learned that people, even the incredibly young ones, maybe even especially them, can be incredibly cruel for what will feel like no reason at all. And the pain of that cruelty is what will shape you over the years, until you don’t know how to let anything else guide you.
By Kayla Hilyard5 years ago in Confessions
How To Be Yours - Self Love
Understanding how to love yourself can be challenging, like a thousand scattered pieces of a puzzle, and just like the scattered pieces of the puzzle, a person must start with what they know. This journey may feel frustrating at times, maybe even impossible or overwhelming but this is where self-compassion comes into play. In one of my favorite songs, “How To Be Yours”, by Chris Renzema, he sings about how he does not know how to love himself but desires to be loved by himself. He refers to himself as an orphan without a home. Every time I listen to this song, it takes me into a mental forest of thought. I resonate with the lyrics because I have experienced many of these emotions. When I began my journey to build my identity I did not know where to start. I asked myself questions such as, “who am I?”,“Where do I belong”, and “Am I worthy?”. Although I have found my identity, songs like these unlock a paradigm shift in the way I see myself and others, creating a desire inside of me to help others understand who they are. From the moment this song begins, I begin my journey through my mental forest where I consume food for thought and wholeheartedly relate to the lyrics.
By Self GDM5 years ago in Confessions
Learning to Love My Blackness.
My parents never really taught me much about what it meant to be Black in the world, specifically what it meant to be Black in America; I grew up in a predominately white church, had (mostly) white friends, was continuously surrounded by white kids in school and overall just never really recognized my own Blackness as a kid.
By dia ☁️5 years ago in Confessions
Didn’t You Know That Wearing a Mask Makes Your Arms Fall Off?
Last week, I met a new guy and 15 minutes later I called him a “f**king idiot”. In the midst of a pandemic, covid-related subjects come up quickly in a conversation. He happened to say he doesn’t wear a mask at his workplace because he wants to “breathe properly”.
By Diana Bernardo5 years ago in Confessions
A letter of the deepest and heartfelt reflections.
To my beloved friend, and my dearest love, Time is a tester of the quality of two souls who claim to be in love. Pain is the tool, and agony is the rod. Affliction is the refiner of patience between two who have deep feelings invested in each other, and the resolve to remain affectionate, to remain soft, to remain tenderhearted towards each other. I would say with total confidence, that my investment in you, was worth every shekel and every hay-penny, spent. My calculations on such an investment, despite my shrewdness and ability with handling numerical quantities, couldn’t accurately predict the value you have brought into my life. Though at times I may be ignorant of your emotions, and unaware of how certain responses may hurt you despite the truthful words spoken boldly with all due sincerity, and with earnest intent, you have cherished me without question and loved me, all the more deeply. I owe you much, so very much indeed. I praise you for the steadfast patience towards our friendship, our bond. I would confess with all due humility, that I am not the easiest soul to love, nor is it easy to cherish such a bond with me. But you, despite the odds and the criticism of proud mockers saying otherwise, and the scorners treating us with contempt, such disdain has neither dissuaded us, nor discouraged us, from loving each other, all the more.
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Confessions
Fire Pants
Fire Pants You, my friends, are LIARS! Don’t get offended or too hasty, because I did call you my friends first. I’m a LIAR TOO! We all are. Our parents lied, our grandparents lied and our kids will follow suit. Our leaders, politicians, and preachers all lie. The billboards, the banks, and everything on the News. Our Businesses, the scientists, and even your boss too! ALL LIARS! If anyone has ever told you that they don't lie, it is a lie! This is not to pass judgement on anyone. I can assure you that my “liar-pants” have been on fire for 36 years. No, this is more of a cordial invite to a dinner party. The main course: TRUTH sirloin marinated in homemade LIES with a side of GOSPEL gravy. It can be a little tough to chew at times, but we still cook it to perfection. No need to R.S.V.P., because it's cooked in your own kitchen.
By Tripp Any Where5 years ago in Confessions
I Stole Cold Cuts From Publix & I Still Regret It
At eighteen, I was kicked out of my dad’s house. He’s emotionally abusive and refused to allow me to have any freedom, whether it was visiting my new boyfriend or whether it was just staying in my dorm at college that weekend. He has Borderline Personality Disorder, so I try not to hold it against him. Either way, it came to a head one weekend. I told him I was going to meet my boyfriend at Jaxson’s ice cream parlor in Fort Lauderdale and he freaked out on me.
By Julie Barnes5 years ago in Confessions
I "Stole" Clothes When I Worked at a Re-Sale Clothing Shop
Summers in small-town Louisiana were hot and long. I was in grad school, and even though I didn’t need a whole lot of money to survive, I didn’t want to sit around sweating without anything to do. So, I got a job at a re-sale shop.
By Patty Ramsen5 years ago in Confessions