humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
I Don't Believe In This.
Can we stop doing these? Please. Just. Stop. Does the universe know what year it is? Does the pandemic? Why must we perpetuate this inherently foolhardy ritual? Do we not have the awareness nor means of communication to shift this paradigm? Are we that powerless?
By J. Wolfgang5 years ago in Humans
An Unexpected Blessing
In November of last year, I underwent major knee surgery. I have been basically under house arrest ever since. I have not been in a grocery store since October! Being isolated takes a heavy toll on a person, especially when they find themselves incapacitated, unable to do basic things for themselves. Simple comforts and exposure to human kindness comes seldom if ever. That is why it makes all the more difference when they do come.
By Ravenswing5 years ago in Humans
My attempt to grow
I remember being fifteen, thinking parts of my brain were suffocating other parts of my brain. Believing all logical thinking I ever had, was being suppressed. I could only apologise for the forthcoming decisions, the person I was about to become, was about to make. Lacking sense, power, direction and means; to better myself and change what was about to become a self fulfilling prophecy, I ultimately became the inescapable. I was in a position, where I was able to predict my demolition but I didn’t feel as though I was the architect of my forthcomings. For the first decade and a half of my life, it was hard not to feel as though I was writing an introduction; for my journey of self destruction.
By Peach Verdi Pietersen5 years ago in Humans
My First Kiss Was in an Elevator
My first kiss was in an elavator. When I read that statement I know I sound like a stereotypical disabled woman. I am twenty-years-old and I have never held someone’s hand; it is difficult to hold hands when I am walking with my loft-strand crutch or driving my wheelchair. I feel a tinge of jealousy every time I see couples holding hands on campus. I always joke that holding hands is gross, but I can’t help but feel like trivial matters like that hinder relationships, like somehow that lessens my value. My life from the outside appears to be assistive devices, bandages, and personal care attendants; at large, it is, but there is also more to me than my disability.
By Erica Mones5 years ago in Humans
The Story.
I can choose to share love with whomever, whenever, however, and be a human full of good deeds! My first big accomplishment as a sober young lady started with when I wrote 40ish encouraging letters to all the people I was in Treatment with, by sitting by the mailboxes and reading their names (since I tend to forget those), and one by one writing away. That was honestly one of the funnest and soul-satisfying experiences I have ever had. It felt like the blink of an eye, sitting on that lounger and thinking intently into what I observed each individual needed to hear, or motivation. I used my birds-eye view to discern what each person needed to hear, and it has started me on a journey to letter writing. I will actually sit in my comfy chair and quiet space, while brainstorming ways to help people. So far I have come up with ideas like this that are beneficial and engaging, as well as buying and handcrafting gifts for people at random times. The number of people who have came up to me after receiving a letter from me, with tears welt up in their eyes, and most tell me about the same thing: "Handcrafting a letter for me was the LAST thing I expected someone to do, but you have motivated me by it!"
By orangepeachapples5 years ago in Humans
The Mimic
Shelves spanned entire walls of the cramped bookstore, creating an illusion of more space than the tiny 8x10 room had to offer. Rows of interspersed titles and genres poked out at strange angles, and a thin layer of dust coated everything above eye level. That’s where I saw it.
By Amanda King5 years ago in Humans
The Audacity of Me
"The audacity of me." This phrase has been on repeat in my mind for a number of months now. The audacity of me to think there's value in my story. In my life. In me I guess. I'm as lost as I've ever been, but at least feel more grounded than normal...so I'll continue typing. People are incredibly inspiring to me. The things we're capabale of withstanding and can still find a way to succeed is literal magic to me. I can never seem to quiet the thoughts that come quickly after inpsiration and admiration. Jealousy, self-pity, shame, anger, saddness. Will I ever reach my success story?
By Daniel Salazar5 years ago in Humans
A Writer's Tip:
The pandemic had affected so many lives around the world in more ways than most people could comprehend. With job losses, businesses shut down or temporarily impacted, schools closed and millions out of work, many Americans were struggling. Troy Williams was no exception. He had been out of work for almost a year because his waiter position had been cut when the local restaurant that had employed him closed down indefinitely due to COVID-19-restrictions. He was barely making ends meet when he was working 6 days a week and his unemployment benefits had run out. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. The world had gone mad and he had no control over what was happening to it or what had happened to him, but the one thing he had control over was the freedom he felt when he was on a run. He laced up his sneakers and headed out for the 10-mile trek in Rock Creek Park he began to maneuver shortly after the virus took hold of the world. The weather was brisk and cold for the last few weeks autumn had left in the Capitol City to enjoy. As Troy turned down the path headed toward Beach Drive, he saw a backpack that seemed to be out of place against the foliage of the park. Did someone drop it by mistake? He didn’t want to break his stride to look into it, but his curiosity got the better of him. Reluctantly he stopped and picked it up. It looked practically new. He walked over to the nearby bench to see if there was any identification inside. He unzipped it and inside were a bottle of water, hand sanitizer, an envelope, a face towel and a black notebook. He sat down on the bench and retrieved the notebook. “Moleskine?” Troy muttered under his breath. The same brand name that was on the backpack. He thumbed through it and saw that it was filled with journal entries, but nothing indicating the author’s identification. He opened the envelope, stunned by the amount of money inside it—all one-hundred-dollar bills. He looked around. Someone was obviously looking for the backpack and he had possession of it. This was a lot of money—money that he desperately needed. Money that would make a few of his problems go away at least for a little while. As much as he wanted to keep it, he knew it was important for him to find the person the backpack belonged to. He searched the backpack and there was a hidden side pocket that made the whole mystery clear. “In the event that this backpack is found, please call James Grant at 202-555-7777.” Troy reached inside his pocket to get his cell phone and began to dial the number on the ID badge. The phone rang once and a husky voice answered on the other end.
By Marcus Graddy5 years ago in Humans
