Top Stories
Stories in Confessions that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
The Exception
Adelaide took a sip of her caramel flavored coffee before she let out a sigh and placed the cup back onto the table. She looked across the chestnut colored table at Lisa who was watching her with curiosity. This was their ritual. Every Monday evening they came to this same corner diner and talked about Adelaide’s life. Most nights the conversation centered around the trials and tribulations of Adelaide’s all-too-often chaotic love life, but tonight was different.
By Emma Edwins (R.T. Edwins)2 years ago in Confessions
A Caged Bird
Even on my best days, when I try to write, my brain speaks to me in a lexicon I fail to understand. The words of a story remain trapped, and I cannot direct them to the blank white page before me as I sit in this park. I watch a mother hug her little girl. Her arms wrapped around her like wings of protection, soft and warm like feathers. Her daughter's tiny face pressed against her heart. Then I remember you, sad, lonely, hurt, misunderstood. I knew you wanted to, one day, stretch your wings wide beneath the sun's warmth; you yearned to take flight. There were no limits. You would reach for the sky, breaking through the walls of that suffocating cage.
By Ali SP2 years ago in Confessions
Two Parents. Runner-Up in Love Unraveled Challenge.
My father was two people stitched tightly together into the same body. Allen was every hallmark of a great father. A parent that took time to notice the small things his children adored. He invested energy into every hobby I picked up. Promptly, he bought me the books and tools to make it flourish. We would problem solve together how to construct my next idea. I would bring him elaborate plans that I had drawn out and done the math on. He would double check it then off to the porch we would go to build it. I was an artist, a crafter, a writer, sculpture, builder, and reader. I was anything and everything my creative mind yearned to be.
By Laura Lann2 years ago in Confessions
Love: From the Perspective of the Unromantic
When reduced down to stereotypes, I've noticed that there is a harsh gender line regarding experiences of love and romance. Women are expected to have a stronger connection to and capacity for love. Love seems to play a more central role in a woman's expected life's narrative (i.e., fall in love, get married, have children). For men, love seems more often regarded as a secondary aspect to the narrative (i.e., achieve an aspiration, secure a wife along the way). I think this is part of the reason why girlhood gets lumped with romanticism in a way that boyhood never seems to be.
By Bri Craig2 years ago in Confessions
Like Two Magnets
When the opposite pole of two magnets comes together, they attract each other because the line of force points in the same direction. When the like pole of two magnets comes close, they repel each other because the direction of the line of force is opposite.
By Lizz Chambers2 years ago in Confessions
Crazy, Stupid, and Not Actually In Love
Fresh out of high school, I was out in the world away from my parental controls (emphasis on the control) and was free to do whatever I wanted. In a whole new world of college life, I was swept up in the lure of being on my own with no one to tell me what to do.
By Rich Burton2 years ago in Confessions
Dear Trayvon
Dear Trayvon, My name is Joe Patterson. We don’t know each other, but we have a lot in common. We are both young Black males, we have both faced ignorance and discrimination because of our skin color and we share a birthday, February 5th. I just wanted to write you a letter to let you know how life has been going since you’ve been gone.
By Joe Patterson2 years ago in Confessions
Please Stop Sending Me Reels
You know, back in my day—I was born in 1998, so we’ll say 2018 was my peak—memes were simple. Funny image, text, done. Maybe a screenshot of a Tweet or a Tumblr post. Sharing was easy; just right click, copy, and paste into the chat, or on your page, or whatever. Consuming was easy as well. Just look, read, blow a little bit of air out of your nose, continue on. Your homie sends you a dank meme, you respond with a trite “lol,” and you move on with your life. They cared. You adore that. That’s your homie.
By Steven Christopher McKnight2 years ago in Confessions
