Dating
Using Tinder Will Only Hurt You.
Tinder is likely to cause you more emotional pain than you ever experienced if you use it for real dating. When it comes to dating, I don’t understand for the life of me why people choose to use apps like bumble or even Tinder as their go to for romance and love. It’s evidently clear that when you read the description of the app on either Google play or iOS, that it’s labeled a casual dating service. I’m guessing they couldn’t use the word sex for marketing reasons but the idea still applies.
By Kyle Smith5 years ago in Confessions
How GPT-3 Chat bots & Drawing Manga made me forget about my ex
How it started I guess you could say it all started after the failures of several relationships I was involved in. Over the course of five years I’ve been in three major heart breaking relationships that never panned out for me. The first one was a waning seven year relationship with one of my exes.
By Kyle Smith5 years ago in Confessions
On Boys, boys, BOYS
The Story: The summer before freshman year of high school I had to take a math class. I hate math. One tiny mistake in the process and the final result is completely wrong. There is no room for error. I live in that room. The room full of errors. Needless to say, I did not care much for the equations on the board but my head was calculating fast. Lots of meaningless plans and designs swirling around in my head. Across the room there was a boy with an AC/DC shirt, cool hair, and a skateboard. Almost immediately I decided that I was going to figure out a way to make him like me. I thought, ugh, now I might have to learn how to skateboard. Before the boy with the AC/DC shirt (and after) was the boy with the Incubus shirt. You better believe I did my research. I listened intently to all of their music. To this day I consider Brandon Boyd, the lead singer, to be the archetype of the perfect male specimen. I mean, ladies, look at him:
By Claire Geeee5 years ago in Confessions
Elements
The unyielding tiny knocks on the roof of the car had persisted long enough that she may as well just given up and let the flood in. Her love was like the rain in that, neither had the chance to stay long (despite that unyielding persistence), before being buried into the ground, and later, sprung from the clouds anew. The engine and lights shut off once the courage to turn the key halfway sunk in, with music kept on as an excuse for the rain and her to listen to. Without it, there was just a concurrent drum-line that would hit along lacking any fluidity or rhythm. Neither knew where the solo orchestra may lead by the end of the night.
By Evan5 years ago in Confessions
Shark Cage
Sitting in a beige chair listening to a lady in her mid 50s talk about the "shark cage" analogy isn't what I expected to be doing on a Sunday morning. My Sundays were once filled with brunches and adventures, not trying to put together the mess that I now call my life.
By Rachael Grant5 years ago in Confessions
Don’t Go Back To Your Ex
Don’t go back to your ex. Especially when they come crawling back to you after the fight. No matter how long it was since you’ve talked last. No matter how much they say they’ve changed, they are always going to be the same person they were when you split.
By Jordan Horter5 years ago in Confessions
The Ten-Year Order
I have flashbacks of her in a black dress, as if she attended her own funeral. Perhaps it’s because she lived in constant scarcity, like she was always one step away from starvation. Short on humor, minimal in nonsense, tight-reined for schedules and speech and spending. Stoic as a Viking and rigid as a brick. Not failure but low aim was crime, and nothing I did was ever good enough for Ma.
By Anna Gruen5 years ago in Confessions
A slice of dark chocolate cake
“If I can recall the last time I felt loved or happy…” “I would say, when I first met him.” I told my psychiatrist therapist. She writes down everything that I’m saying but she never writes what she says. Ms. Ahlmell was her madam name before she got married one year ago.
By Amanda Marshall5 years ago in Confessions
Love Yourz
On my way down, I caught another 3:33 on the phone. I was on my way towards the love of my own life. The number had been trailing me like a puppy seeking shelter in the middle of the night. Just two lost souls showing up in each other's life- fated, searching for a home with other souls. Finding love in new places, getting lost in seemingly familiar faces. I thought you were meant for me - almost fully realized, but most definitely premeditated. I had looked it up before; I still managed to forget what it meant, and what it was supposed to mean for me during times like this. Anxiety was a slow killer- a light blocker. It was 3:33 AM when I popped up, straight out another dream with you still fresh in my eyes. I didn't have to see your face to feel you round me. The energy introduced itself, and somehow quietly, became my favorite. It lingered in the air like the sweat of dancing, jumbled in with hints of weed smoke, and the sweetness of some hard-hitting waffle house pancakes. We were like honey with a side of tobacco. Almost alright. And perhaps, not as bad as we feared.
By A.I. Reads5 years ago in Confessions
You Don't Know Her
Her favorite song is "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison. She loves the Beatles, U2, Ed Sheeran, Mozart and Bach. Her favorite movie is "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty." Her favorite book is "A Memorable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway. Her heroes include Brene Brown, Michelle Obama, Bill Gates and Hemingway. You already know all this, but you still don't know her.
By Marci Brodock5 years ago in Confessions
