Childhood
Uncle Dale Can’t Drink
Uncle Dale wasn’t supposed to drink. Even at seven, I knew that. No one had said it to me directly, but the adults had said it to one another— on the phone, in the car, around the dinner table after the kids had been excused and weren't supposed to be listening.
By Kelley Zherzhi3 years ago in Confessions
Rough day
I wouldn't say I grew up in the worst of homes. However it was by far not the best place to be, between having two parents in an unhappy marriage, to a difficult split, and then both of them hating whoever the other was seeing; made for uncomfortable home life.
By Ryan Welch3 years ago in Confessions
The chocolate bar
It's just another day as I walk into my Elementary school, hang up my backpack and jacket and walk to the first class for the day. I talk with my friends as we gather at our desks about everything we did over the weekend. Mellissa got a kitten. I'm so jealous. I pull out my books, and we start our first lesson. As the day progressed, we moved between rooms learning about Columbus, verbs, and nouns; we painted and drew, ran and chased, ate forgettable cafeteria food, and laughed.
By Emily3 years ago in Confessions
The girl with the question mark on her wrist
2008-2009 The divorce was final. Not sure if the paperwork had gone through yet but my dad was definitely remarried and I’m now living with him, his wife and her two kids all under one roof. My baby sister was born and now I had this new family. As a 19 year old teenager I didn’t really grasp it all. This is sort of a trend with me that I’m noticing. I don’t feel things.
By Natasha Collazo3 years ago in Confessions
springhaven
I’ve trained myself to ignore the shitty things my dad does, and I fucking hate it. Tonight - we were about to watch TV. Mom had just hit play on the movie (an old western - we’d all seen it about a hundred times), and she headed back into the kitchen to grab the plates of dessert for her and my dad. He walked into the den a moment after - his entrance was marked by immediate heavy breathing, an aggravated huffing and puffing as he rushed over to the TV. He started muttering to himself, fumbling with the DVD player in an attempt to eject the disk.
By Savannah Sveta3 years ago in Confessions
Borders
The arbitrary border between Mexico and Texas has led to the separation between the culture I was born into and the culture my ancestors struggled to cultivate. While media doesn’t differentiate between Mexicans and Mexican Americans, I have felt the sting all too often. I am too brown to be among white people and not brown enough to be among my fellow Mexicans. I can’t handle spicy food, guacamole tastes like vomit, and my Spanish, no matter how much I work on it, will always sound different from someone born in Mexico.
By C.M. Vazquez3 years ago in Confessions
How Boy Bands Saved My Life
I don’t remember much about my childhood anymore. I think I was happy, mostly. Except even then I sobbed whenever I made a mistake, a foreshadowing of the anxiety disorder I would one day develop, so deeply consuming that it would haunt me in everything I went. Around puberty, I started to crumble. There were many reasons, not the least being simple biology. My parents fought frequently and I needed something to drown them out, to help me escape for a moment. I needed to be able to find peace in the chaos of my house. I needed to find freedom.
By C.M. Vazquez3 years ago in Confessions
Twenty-Something
Here's the thing about me: I'm a mom, but I'm also 25. Moreover, I'm a 25-year-old mom in 2022. I'm physically attractive, with a thick accent and a people-pleasing mentality caused by years of mental and physical abuse. This matters because without meaning to, I construct a perfect companion for whoever it is I'm talking to. I nod my head, I grin just wide enough, I take my glasses off at just the right time to reveal the eyeliner I've carefully used to round out my almond shaped eyes in just the right places. Conventionally, I'm attractive. In the ways that count. In the ways that get me laid.
By Gypsy3 years ago in Confessions
One hell of a ride!
...and keep your hands & feet inside the ride at all times! Hi! My name is Candie and this is essentially going to be a continuous brain dump of memories and emotions, journaling, poetry/prose, etc. as I work through my childhood trauma, heal old wounds and embark on the epic adventure of figuring out who the f*** I really am underneath all the pain, anger, sadness, etc. *insert any other drowning, smothering, suffocating negative emotion here* FINALLYYY at *almost* 35 years old.
By Candria Jayde3 years ago in Confessions
