love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
For the Girls Who Wish They Could Turn Back Time...
For The Girls Who Want To Turn Back Time I’ve watched so many movies. Movies about everything. EVERYTHING. Somehow the movies that have had the most lasting effect on me are the ones about love. My mom would tell me I was a “hopeless romantic,” a term I thoroughly detest seeing as how I don’t want to believe that there is anything hopeless about the idea of romance; I must have been about 12 the first time I heard it. I was late to the whole "boyfriend falling-in-love" game. My only love was acting. I thought boys were funny, welcomed their adoration, and would never turn down a kiss…but I was in no way interested in belonging to someone. And love? Love was a dish better served…from a far away distance—as far as I was concerned. My parents seemed to love one another though they split when I was about eight years old. Unlike many, I wasn’t devastated. My parents had this wonderful way of showing me how much they loved and respected one another despite their inability to make marriage work for them. My father, though flawed and adulterous, always showered me with the love a little girl so desperately needs to become a woman fully capable of being loved. My mother was what most mothers are—the disciplinary—but she was also soft and kind and she often cried to express her deep love. So, I wonder, how did I inevitably become a woman who often fantasizes about wiggling straight out of love’s reach?
By Iman Milner8 years ago in Humans
Addiction Love
In today’s day and age, it's hard to find true love. Someone once told me I had to kiss a thousand frogs before I found my prince. I only kissed a few before I found him, only he was younger then I was, and I had just ended a long term relationship. As time passed, I thought about him every so often, even after he had found someone. I felt as though he had always been dedicated. Around the age of 13, he would go out of his way to ask me if his aunt and I were going out. Of course, for me, the awkwardness was that I was 19 years old and not quite into breaking hearts of little boys of that age. It wasn't until he was about 24 years old that I got the chance to see him again; see how handsome of a guy he had grown into. Even then, he'd go out of his way to chat with me. He'd even ask me out every time I'd see him after that. However, I always turned him down. I didn't want to ruin the long term friendship I had with his aunt. It was around this time I started thinking of him every so often. I went two years without seeing him at any of the parties she'd invite me to. I even stopped going after a while to any of the parties. It felt as though I was alone, just sitting there with no one to talk to. My friend would be busy hosting her party, which is understandable. I had gotten invited to one of her parties and I was able to convince my kids to go. Something that night, while I was getting ready, told me to look my best. Who knew that one day he'd become my prince? I wish I could show him my past, my past pain, and the happiness that no one knows of; the happiness I hide from most to see, because I don't want anyone to take it from me. He resides in some of those areas. He is the reason for some of my happiness.
By Deborah Portillo8 years ago in Humans
This Is Why...
I hope I can make these points as clear as possible. Everything I am telling you is why you are special. I think the best way to go about this is to start at the beginning. About seven years ago, I was given the opportunity to meet you. We both attended the same church and I felt split apart. I was a dorky kid with curly hair and nerdy glasses. I suffered from social anxiety and I didn't know how to spark conversations with anyone—especially you. Little did I know of the adventures and pain we would go through. Little did I know of the laughs and the crying. Little did I know, I was going to learn what it felt like to live.
By Noah Hunter8 years ago in Humans
It Is Almost 2 a.m. as I Write This
It is almost 2 a.m. as I write this. I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. In two hours my twin flame will awaken. Soon thereafter, he will be on his way back home. Stan's home is in Texas. I live in Florida. Being with Stan feels like home for me. He is what I've wanted to call home for over three decades.
By Tammy Soley8 years ago in Humans
Six Years of Waiting
A lot of people consider crushes we have at the age of eleven to be ridiculous. But we've all experienced it. In my case, it was the stereotypical "new guy at school" crush. I was in my last year of primary school, and a new boy joined, an American boy for that matter. Being a shy and pretty unsocial kid, I'd never come face-to-face with an American person before, so when this unicorn of a boy turned up at my basic British school, I was fascinated.
By Josie Shaw8 years ago in Humans
The Mindset of Cheating
So this is something that has been on my mind for a while now. The reason why is because I knew somebody who had cheated on her husband with two different men. When she told me, I was blown away by it, and I asked her, "why are you cheating on him?"
By Howard Mccoo8 years ago in Humans
Survival
I don’t think that I believe in a specific god. Or rather, I believe that there is potential for some sort of higher power to have created humanity and the universe, but I don’t believe nor follow the set of rules laid before us in a certain religion. Why does a man who’s been dead for thousands of years have the authority to dictate who we can and cannot love? Why do we have to follow commandments that were enacted at the very beginning of humanity? What religion is so progressive that it has been able to adapt to centuries of change amongst the human race? And I for one, certainly have very little to thank the heavens above for. Why should I be grateful for an eternal sickness for which there is no cure? For permanent suffering, for emotional scars, for a hatred nothing short of rooted in my being?
By Ellie Williams8 years ago in Humans
Bailey Evans
I am in love. And she, is in love with someone else. We are just friends. I don’t know which one of these is worse. She’s got a wall in her room dedicated to boy bands and Polaroids from concerts. She collects movies and Rolling Stones magazines. When you walk into her room, there’s always a distant buzz from her record player and it smells faintly of cinnamon.
By R.K. James8 years ago in Humans
