Teenage years
Dear Sol. Top Story - August 2021.
Dear Sol, I’ve been ignoring you for four months. The dictionary definition of Modern Day Torture should include being left on ‘read’, shouldn’t it? I could pretend I never received the messages, but I know you know I did. I never want to ignore you but what am I supposed to do with the stones you’ve put in my pockets? They’re heavy and not one of them mine to hold.
By Blooming Frank 4 years ago in Confessions
The great scorpion prank
Back when i was in eleventh grade i got ahold of a couple bottles Vietnamese rice wine. Inside of the bottle with the alcohol there was a coiled up cobra with a scorpion in its mouth. I ended up drinking the rice wine and getting trashed and smashed the bottle afterward and took the contents out. The next day when I went to school I grabbed the Scorpion I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it but I knew I wanted to try to play a prank on somebody.
By Elijah Geiler5 years ago in Confessions
Author's Note
Of anything I have ever written, this has taken me the longest. I had no idea where to start. I gave up multiple times. Maybe these stones were better left unturned. Maybe writing this would dig up too much. Maybe it would dig up comically little. I became quite comfortable with the fact that maybe this was not worth writing at all… for years.
By Marisa Ayers5 years ago in Confessions
Counted Cross-Stitch Success
I think my depression started in elementary school when I was teased and bullied by the kids and in some ways by my own family, so there was no retreat or any place that I could hide from the abuse other than in my imagination and in crafts. But it didn't always work. I didn't consider hurting myself until I was an adult, but I did want to escape from the abuse often enough. I threw myself into writing stories and making things sometimes out of what others throw away. My Mom and her Mom taught me to do crafts. They focused on the big things like blankets, quilts and shawls, while I focused on the small things like bookmarks, dolls and their clothes, and animal toys. But, one thing I taught myself was counted cross-stitch. I got my first kit as a birthday gift and soon started looking for more kits, designs and materials for working the projects.
By Merrie Jackson5 years ago in Confessions
Allegro Apassionato
“You uh, still playing cello?” Asks my cousin’s husband at every family dinner. “No, I quit,” I respond. But he’ll ask again in a few weeks, because he wasn’t really listening to the answer. He’s just trying to make cordial conversation with his dour teenage cousin. Somehow, Dad is always within earshot. Sometimes he’ll make a quip like, “Yeah, right after I bought you a four-thousand-dollar cello,” but after a few rounds of this exact interaction, he says nothing, just walks away.
By Brett Lalli 5 years ago in Confessions
7 Seconds of Shame
I put on my pajamas and pulled my sleeping bag into the lounge. I recognized his from the all school camping trip we had taken earlier in the year. Pulling mine over next to it, I unfastened the tie and laid it out flat. The rest of the guys were already sitting there when I arrived, but only he greeted me. I had talked to the rest of them a few times, none of them were what I would call friends.
By Jake William Edwards5 years ago in Confessions
Guilty Pleasure
It was a sunny day in Los Angeles, California. The birds were splashing in the sprinkler puddles while the family dog lapped at the water on the pavement. A black car parked on the driveway. A woman stepped out and walked into her home from work with an exhausted look on her face. She walks in to find her son, raving angrily because his job has him stressed out. The father ignored them both as he typed on his computer, working on his presentation. Before she went to take a shower, the mom left a cardboard box, gently wrapped in ornate maroon tissue paper, on the kitchen table.
By David Bravo5 years ago in Confessions
A Mess of a Story
I don’t know if I will ever truly reach “inner peace”. I am a stupid teenager in a stupid world with stupid friends and a stupid life. However, stupidity isn’t always a bad thing, or even negative...in my life, anyway. Stupid can be messy, and angsty, and hard-headed like myself. A messy and cluttered brain -or a “glitchy brain” in my therapist's words- means I have a variety of options to choose from to help express myself, and ways to turn the stupidity into creativity, using that to make the art I call writing...it’s like recycling.
By Audrey 5 years ago in Confessions
