Top Stories
Stories in Humans that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Ghosting is Just a Fancy Word for Emotional Abuse.
He said, "Good night, Skye" and that was the last I heard from him…three weeks ago. My serious boyfriend who had just sworn to me the night before that he still wanted our relationship even though he had moved to another state (we were planning for me to move there), just up and quit talking to me out of nowhere after a very small disagreement…
By Skye Presley 4 years ago in Humans
The Best Thing I've Done for My Heart is Disconnect from Unavailable Men
I have wasted too much energy on many beautiful men who have walked into my life, especially the most recent one. It embarrasses me to tell you how long I felt for this person, so I won't mention it.
By Jennifer Pitts4 years ago in Humans
The Magic in a Sharpened Pencil
We can find inspiration in everything. Pain too. We can let everything get under our skin if we dawn on it for long enough, and the thought of it can make it appear that that’s more of a weakness than a strength, but the power and drive of inspiration makes up for every single piece of it that can make us feel two feet tall. The days we feel it’s strength will always weigh out even the heaviest of the weaknesses.
By Shyne Kamahalan4 years ago in Humans
The Art of Being Rejected for Single People
The Pain of Being Rejected Being rejected is one of the most painful things we’d ever experience in life. To be rejected is to be made an outcast. To be rejected is to be judged as unlovable and unworthy of belonging to someone.
By Jocleyn Soriano4 years ago in Humans
For those dealing with the break-up of a 'situationship'
I have piles of journals all stacked in boxes and placed neatly around my tiny apartment. Years of turmoil fill the pages. Angry chicken scratches that detail my financial woes, but predominantly, nearly every page is littered with details of my love life.
By Michelle Wolf 4 years ago in Humans
I Do Not Have a Photo With My Best Friend of 22 Years
I met her for the first time in third grade. Little me found an empty spot at the back of the classroom right next to her. I was sure she didn’t like me. In third grade, she would have thought I was a bitch. And that’s how all great friendships begin.
By Eshal Rose4 years ago in Humans
Is Your Relationship Karmic, Soulmate, or Twin Flame?
Have you found your soulmate? Or are you stuck in a karmic relationship? The soul chooses varying relationships to help with growth, learning, evolving. No relationship is “bad” as far as the soul is concerned. While we may all want to find “the one” the truth is, even karmic relationships can feel like the one at the time because we need to learn the lessons they bring us.
By Jocelyn Joy Thomas4 years ago in Humans
How Taking Nudes Helped Me Learn to Love My Body
If you have visited The National Gallery in London (or any other art museum), you may have seen walls furnished with exquisite paintings of naked people. For some reason, the artists of the 17th and 18th centuries drew inspiration from buck-naked human bodies.
By Eshal Rose4 years ago in Humans
From Breakup to Falling in Love Again: 3 Important Steps in Between
When you get to be as old as I am, you’ve gone around the block a few times when it comes to relationships. I can honestly say, I’ve had my share of romantic relationships and I’ve been through a breakup or two.
By Justiss Goode4 years ago in Humans
I don't date guys who love horror movies
When I was 11 years old, I wrote a horror novel. At nearly 70,000 words long, it's the longest work I've ever created, slightly longer than the novel I wrote about my Irish ancestors when I was well into my 30s. I wrote it in one month, between September and October, finishing two weeks shy of my 12th birthday. I typed it all on a CD-ROM program for kids, writing up to 5,000 words a day between school and volleyball practice. The story was a murder mystery set in rural Western Ireland, where all my maternal ancestors came from.
By Ashley Herzog4 years ago in Humans
Sewing for Charity
“Charity, like the sun, brightens every object on which it shines.” Confucius I can still see them. Their bold saffron-yellow and black dashikis with matching pants captured my attention. The warm color splashed sunnily against Dulles terminal’s neutral palette of gray, chrome, and glass. The clutch of men wore identical clothing, like twins — or in their case, septuplets. Each of the seven grasped a translucent plastic bag, less than half-full. Their faces, variations on a theme, wore matching expressions of disorientation, apprehension, and fatigue. A bland-faced representative of the government or an NGO shepherded these refugees. The escalator whisked me up and away from the sight of them.
By Diane Helentjaris4 years ago in Humans
