Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Confessions.
WEIRDOS
The story of my life is “I don’t fit in.” I can remember listening to Mariah Carey’s Album, “Butterfly,” singing the words to the song, “Outside, around the age of ten.” It went something like this… “You’ll always be, somewhere on the outside.” What’s even more affirming is that I’m an Aquarius and Aquarians don’t fit in. Uranus is our ruling planet which simply means rebellion. Although I never thought of myself as such, I see why I am. I do not have the same beliefs as my family. I am an “out of the box” thinker. I love to debate and challenge other’s perspectives, and most of all I can’t be controlled or conform unless I agree with the situation at hand. Other rebellious qualities are that we are known to stand up passionately for the things we believe in, and usually becomes activists through music or our artistic gifts.
By Beautiful Intelligence5 years ago in Confessions
Passionate for Love
Did you know that there are 53,0000 homeless people on the streets every night. 25 % percent of the homeless are people with severe mental illness. 30% of the homeless population are children. Where you aware that out of every 10,000 veterans 21 are living on the streets? Helping these people and showing them love is my passion. There is nothing like the feeling that comes with not knowing where you are going to lay your head down during the night. I speak from personal experience, I know what it is like. There is a deep feeling of dreed that comes from the fact you have no safe place to be.
By Adriane Kirby5 years ago in Confessions
The Ensign
The Ensign awoke with a start, slapping around the tiny metal box that passed for a bed to stop the bleeping alarm clock that had mysteriously disappeared into the folds of his sleeping bag. Hadn’t he just had his hand on it? Or had he fallen asleep for longer than he’d thought? Crap! Was he going to be late again?
By Claude McKenna5 years ago in Confessions
THE LONG ROAD TO A HAPPY LIFE
The definition of happy is 1. feeling or showing pleasure or contentment. Or 2. having a sense of confidence in or satisfaction with a person or situation or arrangement. The road to find this in my own life was a long one. I spent many years thinking if I could just make enough money, find the right person, or have enough material things I would have happiness.
By Adriane Kirby5 years ago in Confessions
The Beginning or the End of the Rest of My Life
It was a very cold and rainy day the day it all started. Mom and Dad had been divorced now for about 3 years. We were living in Idaho, about 300 miles away from Grandma. Things in my life were perfect there. I had great friends, great teachers, great parents, heck even my siblings and I got along most of the time. However, little did I know my very perfect life was about to change.
By Brianna Payne5 years ago in Confessions
Social Anxiety Is My Worst Enemy
I am often amazed at just how good my brain is at convincing me -- often without any evidence whatsoever -- that the people around me Do Not Like Me. It’s a regular occurrence, even with people I’ve known and been close with for years. I’ll wake up one day and suddenly think that the friends I talk to every day want nothing to do with me or that my family only tolerates me out of obligation. Friends will make plans that don’t involve me and almost immediately I am convinced it means they are trying to get rid of me. I’m aware of how absolutely irrational this all is, but that never seems to stop the powerful intrusive thoughts from forcing their way to the front of my mind.
By Kelsey Clarey5 years ago in Confessions
Journal Entry #1
I want to figure out things about myself. I want to know who I am, without any doubt. I want to feel comfortable as myself. I want to be able to love myself like I love the people around me. I'm not blind to their flaws, but I choose to not only except them but to find beauty in them. So, why can I embrace the character flaws and physical flaws of the people around me, but I berate myself for every little thing I didn't do perfectly? Is it how I was treated as a child? Do I just pick apart every action I make or word that I say, just because I was ignored and neglected until the age of 16? At what point will I be able to let that go and figure out how to exist without hearing the loud and callous voice of my father and the screams and cries of my mother? At what point will their existence stop causing my breath to speed up and my heart to race and my brain to feel fuzzy? They aren't able to get to me now, and I know that. I know deep inside of me that I am out and I am safe and that I am my own person that matters and exists. I made the choice to be completely done, and yet I feel like they still have this control over me. At some point, the feelings have to be on me, they aren't doing anything, but I still feel their presence with every move I make.
By Sarah Williams5 years ago in Confessions
Living behind a Façade
The life I have led has been one that has fed into my insecurities, rather than work beyond them or remove them. There are so many stories that I can share that highlight a time where I felt alone, afraid, or not able to fit in. But with my current life direction, the path I rest on feels just about right for this take, a feeling like a fish in the giant pond that is life.
By Alejandro Melgar5 years ago in Confessions
Voided Cavern
It is strange to be surrounded by so many friends and yet feel so lonely. It was not that the fact that there wasn’t any common interest. We all took the Same classes and was given the same assignments. However it just felt like it was never enough. Was this how Princess Kaguya felt when she took one look at the moon? Or am I doomed to be alone forever searching to fill this impossible black void I feel within my own heart?
By Valkyrie Yun5 years ago in Confessions
How to make a six-year-old white girl try to jump out a school bus side window.
My childhood was filled with bullying. The sad part was it was from my own race. Not saying it would have been better if it was not, but trying to be brought down, at an early age, by your own race, really sucks! All because my skin was a darker tan, I was constantly reminded that I was different, unique, and even an outcast. The nicknames they taunted me with were highly creative, even though they are cool and commonplace, in today’s society. As I learned later, the ones that did it were only doing it to hide their own short comings. Some had bad breath, buck teeth, nappy hair, weight problems and many more things that were so apparent, to me, in my latter years. I would obliterate them in the dozens (word contest of insults), as I got older. That is why the cowards felt content to pick on a six-year-old rather than someone their own age. What losers! They know who they are. Shame on them. Today every Teacher, Bus driver, Principal or Caregiver would have brought them up on charges. But me, I had my brother and sister. They did not take no stuff off of anybody. I felt protected when they were around. They fought back. I love them so much for helping me through those tough years. The problem was when they exited the school bus, where most of the bullying took place, I had to fend for myself. Even though most of the main bullies left with my brother and sister, some remained. You see, they were in middle school, when I was beginning elementary school. The bus always let them off first. As we got older, my brother moved on to high school. Even though they did not mess with him so much. I guess it was because he had the look of Apophis from the Stargate tv series. They feared him. After he left, it was just my sister and me. This one day, my sister and I were getting bullied pretty bad. My sister was as tough as nails. She would have given Mike Tyson a run for his money. I can hear Howard Cosell now… “Down Goes Tyson! Down Goes Tyson!” And me? I was getting ready to deploy my three secrets weapons to get me out of any situation, stuttering, crying and lastly, the unspeakable, vomiting. As the bus pulled up to the middle school, I was sitting next to Louise, a little white girl in my class. As my sister got up to leave the bus, I begged her not to go or, at least, let me go with her. I deployed secret weapon number one, stuttering. Still, no joy. I deployed secret weapon number two, crying. I just got a look of sympathy. I deployed one and two together, but all I got was a headshake, no. I always carried a pleather book bag with me to school. It laid across my lap. As my sister exited the bus, I deployed secret weapon number three and vomited on top of my book bag. It sprayed out like a fire hose. The whole bus freaked out! I turned to Louise and said… “Here, hold this for me, please.” What? I said please. As I moved it over to her, the vomit teetered mostly in the middle, but some ran off the side. Louise immediately lowered the top of the two segmental school bus window and proceeded to try and squeeze out of it. She went wild, as she clawed and scratched at the window. She was yelling and screaming. My thoughts were “This white girl is going crazy.” Louise was still struggling to get out the side window, as the bus driver hurried back and pulled her back inside and took me, and my book bag, upfront to the trash can. The bus became quiet as the smell of vomit filled the air. The other kids were coughing and holding their noses. Again, secret weapon number three saved the day. I got to ride in the front seat all by myself and the bullying stopped. Well, at least for the rest of the ride to my school.
By Robby Robb Lewis5 years ago in Confessions
Fish Out of Water
Being a native Hawaiian and born in Hawai’i, I was exposed to many diverse cultures, ethnicities, and traditions growing up. The Melting Pot of the Pacific is a label surrounding the islands. So, I am used to meeting people not of my faith, race, and culture. I mean, with white, pristine beaches, eighty-degree weather, and wonderful, natural island beauty, Hawai’i is a destination many from around the world desire to traverse too. But if you have seen the movie Moana, many native Hawaiians have the same mentality as her. If you have not watched it, highly recommended.
By Pono Akina5 years ago in Confessions
A Life In My Hands!
Life changes unexpectedly when you become a mother. It’s a hard journey but endlessly rewarding. Most stories start at the beginning but ours starts here on the 22nd of January my daughter Kyleesha’s second birthday. I’d had a rough transition after having my second child. She had a different dad to her eldest sister so naturally you’d assume the differences between them were from different genes or just luck.
By Nicole Danby5 years ago in Confessions
