Childhood
I Haven't Forgotten You Either Steve. Top Story - October 2021.
The year was 1998. I was an awkward twelve-year-old with acne on my face, braces on my teeth, and an afro due to the tragic mistake of asking for a curly perm during a haircut. You know, the poster child of those pesky awkward years. Once, while looking through one of my grandma’s magazines, I came across an article about a new children’s show called Blue’s Clues. Along with the article was a picture of the host, a cute young guy with brown hair and big beautiful brown eyes. One look, my heart was struck. That young guy’s name, Steve Burns.
By Judith Jascha4 years ago in Confessions
Self Conscious by 9
My parents were my biggest fans. My mom tried to get me into modeling after several friends said I was the perfect fit for it. I was told I was pretty so often though that had grown to hate the conversation as a child, and as an adult I hate it even more.
By Jessica Thompson4 years ago in Confessions
Far From Home
When we are just children, we all have the big dream of growing up and having fun, because that is all we know. It's all about having fun and never sleeping. Get into trouble maybe, get grounded, get told you can't go out with your friends, you have chores to do, you have family events to attend, you are told what to do by your parents and by your older siblings until that magical age you get to move out on your own, be your own person. That's exciting, isn't it? It's a huge deal when you finally leave the nest and you are responsible for only you now. What a huge step in life that we all have had to take. Find our way, find our meaning, find our purpose for living. And don't forget, not having to go to bed when you're told, you get to stay up, you get to make a mess and leave it till the next day. You get to toss your laundry over any chair in your home and leave it without someone screaming at you to clean up your mess.
By Paige Kostyniuk4 years ago in Confessions
I Drink of My Sisters
Three friends and I walk into the woods. It's a hot July day. We remembered sunscreen but not insect repellant. I've got the picnic basket, which doesn't have a meal for us. It's full of candles, incense, matches, seashells, feathers, a rusty steak knife, a quilting pin, a coffee mug, and a half-empty bottle of grape juice.
By Deanna Cassidy4 years ago in Confessions
Letter to an Old Friend
Letter to an old friend, In the late seventies I used to walk blocks and blocks away from home to visit you, the one person I could call my friend. Your lovely home was one of the only places I could feel safe outside of the insanity of my own home. It’s odd looking back, but I never said anything about my life, and you never asked.
By Mary O'Connor4 years ago in Confessions
Across the ocean
The flicker of street lights. My gentle weep. That night I knew things would change, and I had no control over any of it. It was the 5th grade, my father’s words echoed in my mind—the amount of anger, the amount of sadness. Emotion devoured us. I didn't get much sleep that night because that sentence was like a siren.
By Patty4 years ago in Confessions
Partnerships that work.
There is a popular saying in the community that I am from, they say twenty children cannot play for twenty years. I really do not understand this until I became of age and noticed all that they had been saying to us when we were young were true and all through.
By Olalekan Adeeko4 years ago in Confessions
