Top Stories
Stories in Confessions that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
King Sized Psychology
I’ve always felt most comfortable in a king sized bed. At 6’2”, it’s the perfect size for me to fully starfish myself. I spent quite a bit of time with my grandparents growing up and they had a king in their guest bedroom, so I can accurately tell you what it’s like to physically grow into a king sized bed. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize the emotionality of physical items. Having such a big bed makes a shift in you, whether you’re sleeping in it alone or with others. Ultimately your choice of bed size depends on how you choose to perceive that space and if you’re going to assign it meaning, whether it’s just space or something more. In the pursuit of wanting to purchase my own king sized bed as an adult, particularly in romantic relationships, that perception of space has left me questioning: Am I growing up or are we growing apart?
By CTB4 years ago in Confessions
The Coloring Book
My dad is a rowdy teenager in a middle aged man’s body. I’m not joking. He likes to party with his friends, chain smoke, rides a Harley and lives in screen prints and tennis shoes. He only dresses up for weddings and funerals, that is, if you call darker jeans and a button up shirt dressing up, and has in more than one stage of his life proudly sported a mullet. There’s no filter in his brain and he’ll say things that will embarrass everyone in hearing range. As a storyteller and entertainer by his very nature he’ll tell you the same story over and over again. I can guarantee you’ll laugh every time.
By Leigh Ann Tuttle4 years ago in Confessions
Human connection is more authentic when sober
Mocktails will save your life. As a casual wine drinker (it's 5 o'clock somewhere), I had to immediately find a substitute beverage for my evenings and social events. Sparkling water became my go-to, either alone or with juices and fresh or frozen fruit (still served in a wine glass for old times' sake). La Croix and cranberry-apple is my staple, but don't forget about smoothies and any (virgin) summer cocktail. When out at the bars, soda water and a lime will keep anyone from asking you where your drink is.
By Gina Stefan4 years ago in Confessions
Now That It’s Almost Over
I have begun spotting. And what could spotting be at my age except a harbinger of perimenopause which is a harbinger of menopause? Last night I asked Google, What causes spotting? Why am I spotting? How long does spotting last? Then I asked Google to go deeper: Show me images of spotting. Show me images of extreme spotting. Show me images of spotting gone horribly wrong. Google was only too happy to oblige.
By Daphne Faye4 years ago in Confessions
Last Stages of Editing
Normally, I don't stay up late. By 10:00pm my phone screen is black and I've given into the first wave of melatonin. I do most of my writing during the day, under the eye-straining light of my office at work. I read over the first draft, drawing small triangles, hearts, and squares between sentences in my efforts to cleanly refer to little edits I've put in the footnotes of the paper. I read over the filled pages of my journal or printer paper and smile. Sentences build into paragraphs. Paragraphs become chapters. Chapters form a rough skeleton of a hopeful novel. I'm excited. It already has a title. I'm certain that it's my best work yet.
By Darby S. Fisher4 years ago in Confessions
Papa's Song
"What was he like, Ma?" It wasn't often that I found the right opportunity to ask her about him. But whenever I did, I was always hesitant. "He... was a musician." My mother always kept her answers short. It hurt her to remember. But she should have known, that it hurt me not to know at all.
By Ann Garcia4 years ago in Confessions
What Do Most People Regret At The End Of Their Life?
We crucify ourselves between two thieves: regret for yesterday and fear of tomorrow. Fulton Oursler I have been fortunate enough to work with some amazing people in my career. I don’t mean nurses; I am referring to my patients.
By sara burdick4 years ago in Confessions
You'll Grow A Watermelon in Your Belly!
Dear Dad, "If you swallow the seeds, you'll grow a watermelon in your belly!" sounds like an iconic Dad joke. Your child, aka me, remembers hearing the phrase well! Occasionally, it was even stretched to include apples seeds! Yikes! I was a gullible child, and oh-so-fun to pick on!
By E.L. Martin4 years ago in Confessions
Why I Am Becoming Comfortable Telling My Guy Friends That I Love Them.
Because nothing makes me more uncomfortable. Like a lot of men, I grew up around an emotionally unavailable father. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy and I love him, but he’s a product of his toxic upbringing. I’ve always had problems expressing my emotions to people, let alone my guy friends. Even expressing myself to those I’m closest with is hard.
By Joshua Reed4 years ago in Confessions
A Letter To The Owners Of The Airbnb I Accidentally Redecorated With My Blood. Runner-Up in Holiday Hijinks Challenge.
To the owners of an unnamed property in Llanberis, North Wales, the United Kingdom. I’m sorry. I truly am. I never meant to leave your beautiful cottage looking like Leatherface’s workshop. It was an accident.
By Christopher Donovan4 years ago in Confessions
Home
I've been slowly reintegrating back into reality. I landed a week ago. Stood, squinting in the California sun, puffy-eyed from 27 hours of sleepy suitcase dragging, waiting for Shane's white SUV to peel around the corner at Burbank airport. I wondered if this was the last time I'd pull something like this--stuff three bags full of clothes and books and disappear from my life for five months. With me, it's impossible to know for sure.
By Lucia Joyce4 years ago in Confessions
