Secrets
The Day I Stopped Refreshing the Page
The Day I Stopped Refreshing the Page For a long time, my mornings started the same way. Not with breakfast. Not with stretching or deep breaths or gratitude, like people on the internet suggest. My mornings started with refreshing a page.
By Salman Writes5 days ago in Confessions
The Kind of Tired Sleep Can’t Fix
I’m not tired in the way sleep can fix. I’ve tried that. Early nights. Late mornings. Power naps that turn into guilt. None of it touches this kind of exhaustion. It lives deeper, somewhere behind the eyes and under the ribs, where rest doesn’t reach. It’s not the kind of tired that fades with eight hours under a blanket—it’s the kind that lingers even after the alarm clock says I’ve had enough.
By Salman Writes5 days ago in Confessions
I Became Strong the Day No One Checked on Me
There’s a strange kind of silence that doesn’t come from being alone. It comes from realizing that people know you’re struggling and still choose not to ask. It’s not the absence of voices—it’s the absence of care. That silence is heavier than solitude, because it reminds you that you are visible, yet unseen.
By Salman Writes5 days ago in Confessions
Word of the Day: 不利な方
I am actually happy enough to listen to Gulsen in the hallway. I usually listen to it in the gym, which I haven't been in forever. Now I am remembering I need to reply to Teresa. Bruh, I am so overbooked. I have people like 5 days in advanced. It is way too much.
By Kayla McIntosh7 days ago in Confessions
5.11
I am craving you – not in a lustful way – I just want to get to know you more and more … at the same time I am scared to get hurt and that only me is feeling this way … you calm me down and in the first time in forever I can really be myself again …. Not a random version .
By _ lilinana7 days ago in Confessions
ORCHID. Content Warning.
I would like to have a specific order to start this story, but I just want to start by remembering that day I saw a movie "The Orchid" if I remember correctly, where a girl no longer felt happy in her marriage and was able to cheat on her husband with another man, but not only that is that I felt so identified as she was so fragile before a look as penetrating as that of her lover, who desired her and looked at her with love and intrigue, that man who felt that she was a trophy that she wanted but could not touch. That feeling of the lover towards her, that vibe of energies that vibrate in a thousand colors throughout the body, but are trapped in it, that kind of vibrant sensation of wanting to shout it, but not being able to do it, because that's simply what was incredible for me at the time of watching the movie, I thought how beautiful love is even if it was forbidden, But is that really forbidden what makes those strong gazes and compact energies stronger?
By Adriana Herrera7 days ago in Confessions
The Ghostwriter's Ransom
I have spent the last decade being the voice of people who have nothing to say. I am a professional ghostwriter. If you’ve walked through an airport bookstore in the last five years, you’ve seen my work. You just haven’t seen my name. I’ve written memoirs for starlets who can’t spell "autobiography," and "thought leadership" books for CEOs who haven’t had an original thought since 1998.
By Luna Vani8 days ago in Confessions
The Price of My Silence
The silver spoon in baby Leo’s mouth cost more than my father earned in a year. I watched the light glint off the polished metal as I fed him, my expression a mask of practiced, professional warmth. To the Richardsons, I was "Mara," the quiet girl from the agency with glowing references and a knack for soothing colicky infants. They saw a savior; I saw a crime scene.
By luna hart8 days ago in Confessions
