Childhood
A Bitter Taste
I’m sitting there thinking when reality slaps me in the face. I’m really in a lesbian bar. My eyes stared out into the opened air. I always anything but flattered. All my thoughts were married to the lesbian bar that night. I heard wedding bells going off inside my head. My thoughts had been taken captive by Sodom and Gomorrah. I had waiting my whole life to meet the emblem of my dreams. I became inflamed in ecstasy towards females. A voice inside my head spoke, “Are you ready to put a ring around the bars of lesbianism?” This was going to be my big night marrying the women of my fantasy.
By Bernadine Jarmon4 years ago in Confessions
I Go Back To Childhood
My childhood wasn’t something I am proud of or happy to remember. It was a revolving door of scenes, pictures and mini movies that haunt my mind. The majority was spent in my mother’s trailer, a thin white stretch of house with black trim. For part of my life there was a blue shed falling apart in the back yard, and then later there was one built off to the side of the yard, that protective plastic on the wood never taken off and starting to peel as years went by. There was a little blue dog house with black shingles that housed the best friend I had ever known as a child. You would see a smaller version of me climbing all over that dog at any point, clutching his fur while I was huddled inside the small musty smelling wooden house, and I could taste nothing but salty tears. He was always patient though, letting me hold him, and then when I could no longer fit inside, I would sit on the sloped roof and cry, my faithful Max sitting down at my feet and waiting for my sadness to leave. There was another dog, a big boxy rottweiler who let me sit on his not sloped roof and jumped up to comfort me while I cried. Sometimes when I had run outside to cry you could her my mom yelling at me about it, how I had nothing to cry about, I was just being dramatic; can you feel those words pierce my heart like I can?
By Morgan Starkey4 years ago in Confessions
After This Life
Sitting by the brook listening is one of my favorite things to do. Watching it closely, too. The glimmering flow of water gently rolling over rocks, never veering off course as it dances and weaves downstream. Sparkles of light stay in perfect tempo with its soothing sound. Who doesn’t love the music of a brook? I can think of no one. Of course, as a six year old, I don’t know that many people.
By Lese Dunton4 years ago in Confessions
Eight Things I Miss About Childhood. Top Story - December 2021.
The older I get, the more nostalgic I get for the times when I lived at home with my parents and sister and didn’t have many obligations or worries. Looking back with rosy pink glasses, everything seemed so much better, easier, and fun.
By S.A. Ozbourne4 years ago in Confessions
RUNNING WIT' DA DEVIL
Yeah, I could have been something special, but one night I saw something that had rocked my world. From almost the very first day that I was able to discern the nuances of speech and language, I was cautioned against going on 7th Street at night, especially a Friday night. During the day, 7th Street, it seemed, was no different than 6th Street where I stayed, but on the weekend, something or someone—the devil, perhaps—shook 7th Street up until it vomited, throwing up all the bitterness and anger of helpless niggas trapped in a maze of hopelessness.
By GIBRAN TARIQ4 years ago in Confessions
PUZZLED BY WORDS C2 and start C3
Then we all started walking to the pool. Halfway there Kailey said it was way too cool. So, I gave her my hoody, and said I don't see how that can be its June 30th and it's like 80 degrees. She thanks me for being sweet, and a few minutes later we made it to the baseball diamond. It was right behind the Huber heights municipal pool. So, we sat down on the bleachers. The girls said it was too cold to go swimming, but, Johnny, chuck, and I wanted to have some fun. So, we stripped down to our under pants and hopped the fence. Chuck was jumping off the diving board, johnny was going down the waterslide and I was flipping off the lifeguard tower. We were having a blast, but it did not last for long. After just a few minutes, 3 lifeguards came out and chased us off. I'm not sure why they were there, because by the time Kailey had gotten ready and we had made it to the pool it was 11:30 p.m. and we had broken in.
By Jessie Altman4 years ago in Confessions
How my 11-year-old self predicted who I'd become
"Ugh, I don't know," I whispered to myself. I was the only one there who was confused, it seemed. The only kid in grade 5 who didn't have a deep knowing of who I would become, or at least a half-dream of what life could be as an adult. My desperate eyes wandered around the class, searching to absorb anything that could give me the spark that I needed to make a choice. But the idea of deciding which career my future-self would desire and putting it to paper, at that point, felt like picking between which fictional crush I loved more, Edward or Jacob—impossible. I glanced behind me at a boy in glasses, who stuck his tongue out as he confidently drew himself kicking a soccer ball, with the letters "G O A L" spread across. Nope. I then shifted my sight over to a blonde girl in purple, seated next to me, who was humming as she used her felt tip markers to trace cats and dogs around a sketch of her dressed in a doctor's coat. Not quite.
By Sarah Said4 years ago in Confessions
Never Healed
Do you have any scars? I’m not talking about the emotional scars from a previous relationship or your childhood emotional traumas, but a physical scar. A scar from when you fell out of a tree or when you tripped over a Lego block. This is the story of my physical scar. It started on a hot summer day in the beautiful British Columbia of the campground known as Eliston. We have been going there for years and as always we would be setting up the tent and my dad would be screaming at us while we stood there holding poles. Finally, we had it set up and things would go as usual. Campground fires with marshmallows roasting to a perfect crisp, short hikes up easy mountains, and swims by the beach. That’s what I loved most about camping; it was going down to the beach and swimming for hours and then stuffing my face with salty snacks such as chips and goldfish crackers. We would take down the floaters and fight over them in the water.
By Ada Zuba4 years ago in Confessions
Trip Advisors
I know now that it was a cruel thing to do. But as eleven-year-old boys, my twin brother Robbie and I thought it was a hoot. We didn’t mean any harm; it’s just that Grandma Dillon was such a pain. She’d been living with us for almost two years so Mom could go back to work. At first, it was okay, but then she started making rules. Clean your plates. Say your prayers. Do this, do that. She kept up a steady stream that Mom and Dad simply ignored. I guess they were too busy with their own lives. Besides, they figured that twin boys should be able to handle an eighty-four-year-old woman with rapidly diminishing mental competence.
By Ed N. White4 years ago in Confessions
