Humanity
Seduced by the moment
It was the dead hour, between Three and four am - yet the casino at Bellagio’s foyer was still alive. Alfred strolled between the slot machines – smoking, sipping bourbon, and watching folks playing and having fun. Seeing the reels spinning was interesting even though it turned rapidly to create excitement and not more. He knew that the actual result of what would appear on the pay lines had already been chosen by a random number generator determining which combination of symbols should appear in the reels. He watched gamblers winning or losing money, having a big smile or long face, but gambling was the last of Alfred’s concerns that night. His married life was at risk of having divorced, and he wanted a vacation in a vital city like Vegas to take a fateful resolution that would change his life once and forever.
By Ayman Baroudi4 years ago in Confessions
The Power of Control
So its been a while since my last article. For a while, I was feeling safe and happy with how my life was going. I had a good job and a way to pay my bills and care for my children. In January, I lost my job and sought out another one. It took the entire month of January before I was finally hired at a new job, regaining some small semblance of control in my life. With that I was getting back on top, feeling happy and creating a sense of normal back in my life. Tonight, I had a trigger from my past. Now in my experience, you never know when it may show up or how or even how deep it will slice through the old pain. Tonight when I burst into tears over my kids dropping my dinner on the floor, it became a sudden realization of something I have not conquered yet about my past. With my ex-husband we never had enough food in the house, and though I always found a way to make sure my children were fed, quite often there were nights and even entire days when feeding them meant skipping the meal myself. I never even felt safe to eat in my own home, like I would be punished for even trying to eat. If it wasn't him bestowing it upon me like a grand gesture of approval, danger lurked around the corner and consequences all too apparent if I dared to eat without permission. Its been nearly 3 years since I left him and became free, yet even the smallest occurences can trigger the darkest memories and wounds. Tonight I need to write. I need to let it all out, because it is the ONLY thing that I control myself. I cannot control how angry I feel at him or how upset it makes me at times that I do not feel like I will ever have the strength to forgive him for everything he's done to us. I don't feel that he even deserves it. Most days now I am actually finding more happiness and light than having to suffer through those dark days. The reason for that is because I control my life and my days. I control who I let in and what I can do in that day. I make as many choices as I can because that is something I can do. Even being aware that choosing to take the kids to school and go to the office for training or classes, I am the one making those decisions and that is something powerful to hold onto. I may not ever forgive him for his actions, but I will hold onto the hope that someday I will find peace and the small things that come to trigger me will no longer have the desired effect they seek out to do: remind us of a broken and painful past. Those triggers are a direct link to things we want to forget, yet they whisper to us, they bring up painful memories in a flash, and in a moment we feel all of it rushing through our bodies, as if its a fresh wound. But we have the power to take it back. In reality, the fact that it upset me and I started to cry well, has nothing to do with my kids. Its that the past came knocking and sucker punched me. I have so many choices on how to respond to that. I can lay there defeated or I can get up and sucker punch it back. Because I DO have the power to control those memories. I have the power to say to my past "no more." I will not let you in to hurt me anymore. So tonight, even though it took me by surprise and was unexpected, I refuse to give up and I will not let it drag me back into its grips. For anyone who is reading this and may know what I mean, I want to say to you, "those moments will come where you will flashback and it may hurt when it does. Grab that sucker and throw it back into the depths of the past where it belongs. Your future is brighter and will be what you choose it to be. I choose to take back control and make my future one that is full of happiness and love. That is who I am tonight and this is me."
By marion scott4 years ago in Confessions
death by spiders
Death by spiders If I told you to predict the end of the Human race, would it ever occur to you to include mutated spider infestation? Would you everything arise that spreadsheet of spiders would emerge to wipe out more than half of the worlds population interest one year? But that’s exactly what happened five years ago. The spiders were first scene in Australia when a group of a killer just discovered the remains of some ancient cat. They thought the cats must have been there along with the dinosaurs but what they didn’t know it was that within the bones of the remains were unknown species of spiders white in colour that has a colony within the bones of the cat. When the bones was taken from the discovery sites to US a for a closer inspection, just still unnoticed colony of spiders were ultimately moved across the continent.
By Nneka Anieze4 years ago in Confessions
Handed A Gun At Twelve: The Haze (Of Ishmael Beah)
He knew his time was ticking so in a panic, he pulled their lifeline instead. He will never be forgiven. He will never be forgotten. He will never be himself again. He’s sorry. Society should be. He did not ask for it. Who is he? A boy. A boy soldier. A twelve year old boy soldier. The boy soldier walked from village to village watching the dead bodies which ran between street apon street like the same drab flag repeated over and over in this never ending war of mindless people. How truly innocent this dear boy had been. Emphasis on “had”. He was used to this now. Even worse, often, he was at the hands of it. Yes, sad but true, the unsuspecting, sweet, cheerful twelve year old boy he had once been was now gone. A leftover bullet on the streets of his old town is a constant reminder to those who once knew the real him of where that stripping of Beah took place. No. Better yet, it’s symbolic of how. The motif of guns reveals the theme of confusion/haze as a result of being so young while being forced into a situation where oneself as a person is no longer clear because of the things they are made to do.
By Emily Clare Burgess4 years ago in Confessions
Show Up and Smile
I have finally made peace with something in the last week. My complicated relationship with my mother has haunted me for as long as I can remember. Isn't every parental relationship a love hate relationship? Why do I have to live in her shadow? Why is her shadow so large? Why is it so hurtful.
By Susan Eileen 4 years ago in Confessions
Joe Pisani (assessment): How a facial covering saved my life (not that way)
(What you are going to peruse is a genuine, dislike those Disney films where they say, "In light of real occasions" or "Intently looking like a genuine story" or "A fictionalized genuine story." Here you get only the genuine article.)
By AVNI4 years ago in Confessions
I Think I Need My Job
Sooo… there’s some type of ice monster storm going on outside my house that shut down the city for the day and I'm not mad at all. I’m all wrapped up in my fluffy gray blanket, have my favorite snacks, and an entire list of saved T.V Series to dive into. Mad excited, as one should be but before getting into it, I decided to do one last finger strut through my phone making my way towards the “Do Not Disturb”. It’s at this point when I came across a text that said something to the effect of, new work requirements, vaccination cards, with due dates in order to keep working and I’m like (lip smack) Whaa…. Now I’m not crazy, I knew it was coming at some point but right before one of the most romantic days of the year? REALLY? Now is that love? I think not! Amazingly as that was happening I get a call from a friend stating they were going through this exact Situa (no misspell, yes I don’t say the whole word all the time) at their job, despite the man-hours and loyalty. Pretty much if it’s a no-go they said don’t show. SMH! Sooo… after being on my “Golden Girl” (Being a Friend), I hung up and suddenly, I wasn’t so cozy anymore, in fact, the thought of watching tv at that moment annoyed me. Seemed like that ice storm outside had set the tone for the rest of day. Sooo… now I need everyone to pay it forward and get on their “Golden Girl” (Being a Friend), for a moment and oblige me if you will as I vent just like I let my friend do on the phone.
By QC (A.K.A Soul Writer)4 years ago in Confessions
“Don’t Talk To Me From The Next Bloody Room!” (Part two of two)
I leave the audiology department that day with three things I didn’t have before: An audiologist I truly believe will do his best to treat me as an individual. I love how he explained my rather unusual audiogram to me, which explains why I can hear birds singing but not people’s voices. Talk about a lightbulb moment!
By Alex Frederickson4 years ago in Confessions
His Dream Keeps Me Living
My start to living a better life, came with a simple rule of planting seeds. See, there was a time when I thought an eye for an eye attitude was the only way to live. I thought that karma wasn't working fast enough when people did me wrong and wanted to get even. However, life taught me better and some of the viewing and reading of Dr. King Jr.'s words gave me a better insight on life. After all, only love can get rid of hate!
By Jay LeTron Dobbins4 years ago in Confessions
„Don’t Talk To Me From The Next Bloody Room!“ (Part one of two)
Picture it, Sicily, 1921…not a Golden Girls fan? Ok, skip the joke! No seriously, picture the scene: It’s 1977 and I’m an 11 year old on my first school trip abroad. We’re in Amsterdam. I’m standing at the back of the group and our teacher is telling us about the arrangements for the next day. Strange, I can’t hear him properly. I grab my friend and pull her to the front. Ah, that’s better.
By Alex Frederickson4 years ago in Confessions
A Letter To Myself In 10 Years
Dear Carlos, I wanted to enter into one of the many challenges that Vocal offers its writers. The challenge that I entered required me to write a letter to my hero. However, I wasn't sure who I considered my hero to be. Initially, I was trying to choose between either Jordan Peterson, Elon Musk, or Mr. Beast. Although, after seeking advice from my family, I was given the idea to write a letter to you... or should I say to us.
By Carlos Guerra4 years ago in Confessions
