Teenage years
In Between Us
Seven months had passed. Not a short time, yet it felt like it slipped by unnoticed. And still, she often found herself asking, “How did we even get this close?” It was something she never saw coming, something far beyond her expectations.
By Aqeela Izma Rashida8 months ago in Confessions
Crimson Pursuit
Prologue The city never sleeps, and tonight, neither does danger. Neon lights flicker over rain-slicked streets as a sleek black motorcycle roars through the alleyways, its rider a shadow against the chaos. The chase has been relentless a game of cat and mouse between two worlds, between trust and treachery.
By MOHAMMED NAZIM HOSSAIN8 months ago in Confessions
The Night I Walked Away: A True Story of Silence, Struggle, and Strength
It was almost midnight when I finally opened the door, stepped out barefoot onto the cold pavement, and walked away from everything I thought I had to endure. There was no dramatic fight. No screaming. No chaos. Just silence. The kind of silence that wraps around your throat like a tightening scarf. That night, my silence ended. I was living in a small suburb in France. I had moved here for love, for the idea of something new and exciting. It started like a dream. He was charming, intelligent, and made me laugh until my stomach ached. We talked about literature, shared playlists, and cooked together. He introduced me to his family, and I believed I was building something stable, something forever. But love, as I learned, can be a carefully constructed mask. The Subtle Disappearance of Self At first, the changes were so small I hardly noticed. He would gently correct how I spoke. He’d suggest I wear something more “fitting.” He would roll his eyes when I shared ideas he didn’t agree with. It all seemed harmless. I mistook it for intimacy. I told myself, "He’s just helping me grow." Then, I stopped wearing makeup because he said it made me look fake. I stopped calling my family as often because he didn’t like the noise. I declined job interviews because he said I wouldn’t be able to manage stress. Slowly, the girl who arrived in France full of ambition and fire faded into someone quiet, agreeable, and invisible. But I told no one. Not my family back home. Not the friends I once met for coffee. Shame is a powerful silencer. And fear? Even more so. Emotional Bruises Don’t Show He never hit me. He didn’t need to. He mastered the art of making me feel small with his words. “You’re lucky I put up with you.” “No one else would want you.” “This is why your family gave up on you.” He’d say these things with a laugh, like they were jokes. And when I cried, he’d say, "You’re too sensitive." Every insult was wrapped in a smile, every wound followed by a kiss. I convinced myself this was just how relationships worked. That it would get better. That I was the problem. Until the night I realized I couldn’t breathe. The Breaking Point That evening, we were eating dinner. I had cooked his favorite pasta, hoping to ease the tension of the past few days. But he barely looked up from his phone. When I asked about his day, he replied, "Stop being so clingy." Something inside me cracked. I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked hollow. My shoulders drooped. My reflection felt like a stranger. I thought of my mother’s voice on our last call, saying, "You don’t sound like you anymore." And she was right. I had vanished. The Night I Walked Away I didn’t plan it. I just... stood up, grabbed my coat, and walked to the door. He didn’t even ask where I was going. Maybe he thought I’d come back, like always. But this time, I didn’t. I walked through the quiet streets of the neighborhood, my phone buzzing in my pocket. I ignored it. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I needed to leave. Eventually, I reached a small hotel near the train station. I had enough cash on me for one night. The woman at the front desk didn’t ask questions. She handed me a key, and I cried harder than I had in years. Starting Over Isn’t Clean The next morning, I called my sister. I told her everything. She didn’t ask why I hadn’t told her sooner. She just cried with me. Within days, I was on a train to Germany, where she lived. She welcomed me with open arms, a warm bed, and an endless supply of tea. Leaving wasn’t a clean break. I had panic attacks. I missed him, or at least the version of him I thought was real. I questioned if I had overreacted. But therapy, long walks, and time reminded me: love doesn’t erase you. Lessons I Carry 1. Emotional abuse is real. You don’t need bruises to prove your pain. 2. Silence protects the abuser, not the victim. Speak up, even if your voice shakes. 3. Healing is messy. You’ll doubt, cry, and question—but keep going. 4. You are not alone. There are people waiting to help. Family, strangers, professionals. To the Woman Still Waiting If you are reading this and feeling seen, please know: you deserve love that doesn’t hurt. You are not too sensitive. You are not overreacting. If your heart feels heavy every day, listen to it. Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it was also the bravest.
By Shabir Ahmad8 months ago in Confessions
The Driving Test
Introduction This is an example story for my "Sunshine After The Rain Challenge" that you can find here: One of the things I have noticed about my backup account is I get a lot less comments than I do on my main accounts, as well as, seemingly a lot less reads. One story has five comments and one read, but I suppose, in reality, it is early days, and hopefully, I can let this fade into the background when my main account is restored.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred - EBA8 months ago in Confessions
“The Last Message From Mom”
It’s been 312 days since I last heard her voice in person. Every evening, I pick up my phone with a strange mix of hope and dread, praying I’ll find a new message from her. Of course, I never do. There’s just the same tiny voicemail icon flashing against a black screen—my only link to the woman who raised me. When the world around me feels heavy, I press play. Her voice washes over me like warm light on a cold morning, soft and steady: “Hi sweetie, just checking in. Call me when you’re free. Love you.” Simple words, spoken with infinite care.
By Asim Ali8 months ago in Confessions
📖 "The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment"
Author: Eckhart Tolle Genre: Self-help, Mindfulness, Personal Development 🌟 Why this book? "The Power of Now" is one of the most powerful and practical books for developing both mental focus and inner confidence. While it’s rooted in mindfulness and spirituality, its core lessons are highly applicable to daily life, especially if you struggle with distractions, fear, or self-doubt.
By Muhammad Huzaifa8 months ago in Confessions
UGLY SCENES OF ORPHANHOOD
Every morning, the sun peeked through the cracked window of the small, dilapidated orphanage, casting a weak glow over the peeling walls. Eleven-year-old Amir woke up to the familiar sound of footsteps—shuffling, tired, indifferent. It was another day of waiting, of surviving, of pretending that life could be anything but hollow.
By Archimedes munsanje chilundika8 months ago in Confessions
Dreaming Out Loud: The Chaos of Living Inside Your Head. Content Warning.
The Power of Failing To have failed means to have tried. To have tried means to have lived — outside of one’s head, that is, where you control the outcomes and always wear the perfect outfit.
By Eve Lamb8 months ago in Confessions
The Silence I Spoke
For most of my life, I was fluent in silence. I could hold a conversation with my eyes, express sorrow through my smile, and scream without making a sound. It wasn't because I had nothing to say — it was because I had learned early on that speaking carried consequences. And so, I swallowed my voice like medicine that burned going down, hoping it would heal me from something I couldn’t name.
By Muhammad Hashim8 months ago in Confessions
Faith in the void
Faith in the Void Sometimes faith isn’t a feeling—it’s a fight. This piece came from a place of spiritual fatigue, where prayer feels like screaming into silence. It’s not about losing belief, but about surviving when belief feels one-sided. When the light you chase keeps moving further away, and the silence is deafening, holding onto hope becomes an act of sheer stubbornness. This poem reflects that struggle, the raw, honest moments in the dark.
By Ibrahim albu8 months ago in Confessions
The Day Everything Changed
It was a Tuesday, the kind of day no one expects anything from. The skies were stubbornly gray, coffee was bitter no matter how much sugar I added, and my inbox was overflowing with emails I didn't care to answer. I was 28, living in a cramped one-bedroom apartment in a city I didn’t love, working a job that paid well but quietly siphoned the soul from my bones.
By Muhammad Hashim8 months ago in Confessions
