Psychological
Creating Healthy Boundaries: Safeguarding Yourself from Others' Frustrations
Synopsis: In an era where everyone’s emotions seem to be on display like the latest fashion trend, protecting your mental and emotional well-being has never been more crucial. This article delves into the art of setting healthy boundaries, a skill as necessary as it is overlooked. Through the story of Sarah, a woman who learned the hard way, we explore the importance of self-preservation in a world that constantly demands more. Prepare to be entertained, enlightened, and perhaps a bit relieved as you discover the empowering truth about boundaries.
By Rafael Fiuzaabout a year ago in Fiction
Fading Memories. Content Warning.
A chilling realization washed over me: the scars were old, the message carved in a desperate bid for truth. I had been here before, trapped in this endless loop of confusion and deceit. It does not matter for how long. All that matters is that with each day, I gain more memories. Presumably, I had asked for a pen and paper in the past, and they either denied my access for cruelty or witnessed me trying to recall my memories. All I had left was my skin. I know asking for a pen now would trigger a treat from me to them. They know my path. They know my responses. I must recognize what they think I will do and differ my response to that of the unknowing lump of flesh they wish to remain captured.
By Oliver Millwardabout a year ago in Fiction
The Girl Chasing the Wind
The Girl Chasing the windmill-A Room with Don Quixote ---------SHENLANSE She passed away It's been a long time since I visited a night market. The hustle and bustle were unimaginable, with crowds of people and a constant flow of cars. Even the famous night markets of Bangkok probably couldn't compare. Seeing the greasy floors made me feel nauseous, losing my appetite instantly. A few stalls selling ice jelly with extravagant claims of being "world-class" were incredibly popular, drawing large crowds. Walking through the street felt like observing the masses. Guanghan is such a city, where the atmosphere is permeated with a sense of exaggeration. Everyone seems to have an inherent sense of flamboyance, even the ice jelly stalls boast banners claiming to be the best in the universe. It's quite amusing when you think about it.
By SHENLANBAIabout a year ago in Fiction
The Sales Champion
I had no specific reason to visit the exhibition, but then again, fortunately, I seldom need one. This time I would use the fact that it would be raining cats and dogs soon, and I wanted to stay dry today as my excuse. There was really nothing there for me as a writer since it seemed to be some kind of building materials expo. But then again, maybe I could use some of the latest new materials in one of my stories. That's one of the advantages of being a writer: we can show up anywhere, anytime, just by saying "There could be a story in this." And the crazy thing is that most people tend to believe it, often trying to make us feel more than welcome! Even if their stuff is utterly boring, it seems they need or at least want to believe someone else might be interested in it. I once was even heartily welcomed at a bookkeepers' reunion class. My excuse for that one was the bitter cold, as I remember correctly.
By Bea Van Der Hoekabout a year ago in Fiction
Echo
One day at a local concert, I saw a man with big hair singing with 3-4 others, while a few people listened to their song. The man seemed a bit crazy, with his big hair, beard, mustache, and large frame. It looked like he hadn’t showered in at least a month.
By Md. Ismiel Hossen Abirabout a year ago in Fiction
The Evolution of the Heart
If there comes a day when that which causes your heart to beat can no longer move you, that which makes you angry can no longer make you angry, that which makes you sad can no longer make you cry, then you will know what this time and this life have given you and what are you doing for it?
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Fiction
Zealous Secrets
The room had that musty smell of older people. The odour wafted across the space. Not exactly the smell of death, but somehow close enough. Shelves of books covered the walls and there were no gaps between them. Soft seats were scattered randomly around the old room, each one atop an old ragged rug. Browned newspapers and pages full of notes coated the old oak desk near the large glass french doors that lead to the estate gardens. The glass of the doors was coated by years of unwashed dust one could barely see through to the footpath just next to the doors. The study was bound to hold many secrets, but not the one anyone that followed Adam here would search for. The stacks of rotten paper and books gave off such a pungent odour, Adam wanted to leave now … but knew the chase was not over yet.
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction
