Humanity
DEAR FORGOTTEN
Typical days are a struggle to get out of bed, with this body moulded to sheets. However, this time, I had decided yet again to indulge in delivery. So naturally, I had to scream at every cell in my body to force itself down the stairs and to the door. Whilst I waited for the driver to leave my food at the door, I noticed in the corner of my eye, a letter. More so how my name was inscribed in thick, bold letters.
By OUT OF PLACE 5 years ago in Confessions
The Hallway Lingerer
The distance from the annex building to her Spanish class could not be longer. One corner of the campus to the other. Since the shortest distance between the two points is a straight line, journeying outside only made sense. Despite this, most of her classmates walked the halls, lingering in the open and airy space where stairways and hallways merge. This is where friends stand in circles, gossip exchanges, and romantic hopefuls flirt and connections blossom. She can see the halls through the windows on her path outside, but only stares ahead, trying to avoid even peripheral glimpses. She wonders how she got it so wrong and they are getting it so right. In no hurry to take her assigned seat in the last period, her walk has reduced to stroll, hoping to come off as breezy. But while she can masquerade how she carries herself, she has never mastered the poker face. Her expression has always been a window to her heart, and these days it is empty. In the Fall, it was full. She walked inside. She was one of those hallway lingerers, and this is where she found him. He filled her heart with hope and adoration, as every first love does. Every nerve in her soared. She felt seen and accepted. She was getting it right. Until she wasn't. Until hope and adoration were replaced with hurt and shame. With one misstep, she got it all wrong. She was all wrong.
By Elaine Kirkland5 years ago in Confessions
Silence
It was always cold in November, that's just the way the world worked. Mother Nature and all. I could say the cold never bothered me, or explain the comfort I got from the chilling wind, but none of it would be true. It would all be based on an extension of myself that I'd wished I could've been.
By Alissa Hayes5 years ago in Confessions
New Dirt
I finally was off the plane, and took my first step into the dirt which was mixed with gravel, the purest soil I've ever seen. I instantly felt connected to the earth, or it could have been the amount of dirt and rocks that were instantly molded into my toes that were out to the world due to my current choice of footwear. “Where did I take myself now” I said to myself, swatting away whatever bug just landed on my shoulder.
By abby ashton5 years ago in Confessions
The Crack House
The New Jack City film and different TV programs offer a clear image of a broke house. They show an unwanted structure in a destruction where individuals are grimy and lying on the floor. It implies that the individuals who smoke cocaine vanish for quite a long time and stay inside the filthy dividers of this repulsive state to climb. While that might be valid at times, that isn't the situation.
By albert bean5 years ago in Confessions
Opinions
Are you entitled to your opinion? You can have an 0pinion but you aren’t always entitled to it. Professor Patrick Stokes, Associate Professor of Philosophy at Deakin University, in an article originally posted in The Conversation, says “philosophy teachers owe it to our students to teach them how to construct and defend an argument – and to recognize when a belief has become indefensible.” That article came out in 2012 and earlier this year Stokes revisited it, stating that, “Today, it is clear that many of our politicians and commentators have never seen the inside of a philosophy classroom and the question of whether we are entitled to our opinion is more pertinent than ever before.”
By Janon5 years ago in Confessions
Pardon Me For a Moment of Your Time...
"Who's sorry now???" (Patsy Cline). "...But I think it's about (Forgiveness, Forgive..." (Don Henley) "...me, I know not what I do! Please FORGIVE ME, I..." (Bryan Adams) "...'m sorry I'm bad; I'm sorry you're blue! I'm sorry about all the things I said..." (Buckcherry). "...Too late to apologize; it's too laaaaaate!" (OneRepublic)
By Kent Brindley5 years ago in Confessions
Why Reading Is Good for You
I was shopping in my favourite bookstore - China in a Bull's Shop - when I began to wonder if it was worth my time. I had more than enough books at home that I hadn’t read and likely would not read. What was I doing there? I had to get back to work in about an hour and was distracted by the thought that I had forgotten my discount card. I had also walked to the store on my break with a sandwich and spilled lettuce and tomato all over my clothes. Wiping myself off, I passed between the double scanners, instantly setting off the alarm. After a friendly clerk looked through my knapsack and discovered my DVDs – borrowed, forgotten, and overdue – I noticed a piece of tomato which had somehow affixed itself to my groin. I suppose that was the moment when I felt that it was not worth my time. But I needed to go shopping. After all of those little incidents, I needed to take some time off for myself. A book would work, for the moment.
By Kendall Defoe 5 years ago in Confessions
Pinning Butterflies
The air conditioning in my Volkswagen Jetta sputtered volumes regarding the current state of affairs. After all of these years, it still miraculously managed to crank, but even I knew that it was on the border of just walking away from everything; much like its owner. Like all practical applications of life that sucked, we had both learned to tie the proverbial knot when we reached the end of the rope.
By Marybeth King5 years ago in Confessions
