Teenage years
Hair Comes Trouble
I’ve always been obsessed with changing my hair. I'm never happy with it for long. I’ve always felt my hair has been what helps define me. I look at it as a reflection of my personality. I’ve changed colours numerous times and I’m patiently waiting for the opportunity to go to the salon for the first time to have it properly coloured to red and pink. I’ve never really been bothered about the length of my hair though. When I was growing up, I had the bowl cut bob and all throughout my teen years, I was constantly changing it from long to shoulder length. I had always had my mum’s friend, who was a mobile hairdresser, come to the house and cut my hair the correct way. That was until one day I decided to act on an impulsive decision to try and cut my hair myself.
By YesItsMocha5 years ago in Confessions
My High School Poetry
Okay, so funny story actually. I was really terrible at poetry in my freshman year of high school -no surprise there- I cringe every time I find one of my pieces tucked away in a drawer. Unfortunately, I had no impulse control, so during my writing class, poetry was practically all that I turned in. My teacher, lets call her Mrs. S, she didn’t have any exposure to my writing since then.
By Anna Miller5 years ago in Confessions
Music saved my Emo life
Going through all these songs for this challenge was tough. Some were hard to listen to, but also comforting. If you want an immersive experience, and to feel sad and maybe nostalgic (if you know any of these), you can find the playlist here:
By Lauren Dee5 years ago in Confessions
The Many Faces of Me
What an unforeseen moment of serendipity it was stumbling across this challenge so soon after reliving my own teen music experience with a close friend of mine. Just recently while wandering the well-worn track of our weekly walks, my best friend and I issued each other a challenge. We were to each put together our own playlist, filled to the brim with songs from our teenage years so that on our next walk we would be able to share and compare. For every song, we would detail how we came across it and why it resonated with us so heavily during our teenage years. Given our little friendly challenge, I’m sure you can understand why this Vocal prompt came as a pleasant, though somewhat unexpected and surreal surprise.
By Bree Beadman5 years ago in Confessions
How I Overcame "Middle Child Syndrome"
It’s true what they say about being a “middle child”. We’re overshadowed by the strong will our older siblings sustain, and are dulled by the light the “baby” of the family radiates. In my situation; my older sister was the star of any sport she played- running with the popular crowd, and confidently guiding herself through upcoming adulthood. Being only 15 months apart in age, and with her birthday being late in the year- we ended up in the same grade throughout school. Which made me less of my own person, and more of “(sister’s name) sister”.
By Kennedy Brown5 years ago in Confessions
Misunderstood
Let’s be honest, “you don’t know what it’s like to be like me,” and I am most definitely “stronger than yesterday.” This is sort of a “story of a girl who cried a river” but the only thing she drowned were her sorrows on a tear-stained pillowcase. I seemed to forget that “big girls don’t cry” when the tears were always bubbling just below the surface, waiting for the next rejection from a crush or spite from a best friend. Man, “why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?”
By Trish Felecos5 years ago in Confessions
Raising a Worker
I loved playing football. Hitting other men that are obstacles in my way. There is only one thing in my sites. Sacking that quarterback. Just thinking about it makes the hair on my arms stand on its ends. I can think about those moment before the count. All of us heavy breathing, anticipating the snap, before all hell let’s lose. God, I loved it. It’s too bad I didn’t get to play very much. I sometimes wonder what would have or could have been.
By Bastion Whittingfield5 years ago in Confessions
Dionysus’ Charge for Admission
All the stuff these fucks stole, why the frozen ribs too? This house is almost as wrecked as my body. So thirsty. Hungry too, but so much stomach pain I don’t know if eating anything heavy will work. I’ve had horrible hangovers before but this is on a whole new plane of existence. I’ve never gotten random pins and needles feelings from hangovers before. Oranges on the counter, maybe that’ll work? Fruit is healthy, oranges are wet, this might be just what I need. Fuck, it’s hard to even peel this thing with my trebling hands. The citrus smell is turning my stomach but it’s been turning since I woke up, and I gotta try something. Oooooooohhhhhhh, the juices filling my mouth in this first bite feel like life. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhh, my stomach feels like it’s being torn apart from swallowing this. No more. What’s in the fucking frige? Cold pizza? This usually helps me with hangovers. Hhhhhhuuuuuuggggkkhh, bad idea.
By Mahduud5 years ago in Confessions
When Staying the Course is Ill-Advised
About once a year, when the brisk air first sinks to eye level, and the Canadian geese flee the impending cold, I get the urgent desire to run. Donning my running gear, which I keep for this one occasion, I usually jog half a mile before I begin to feel the burden of my body in my knees, so I then run in two minute intervals, walking five minutes in between them. This way, I can satisfy my annual running quota without needing to spend several weeks in recovery.
By Lucy D5 years ago in Confessions
Crime Waves
Crime Waves In a down economy the duo watched as their fathers struggled to feed their families, money was tight and they always thought there had to be a better way. “Fuck me running T, if it wasn’t for bad luck we wouldn’t have any luck at all”. Dolan was red faced and visibly upset, nothing the two of them had planned had gone accordingly and the last thing he wanted was to spend time in the hoosegow.
By Gregory Dolan Dies5 years ago in Confessions
Sticks and Stones
We all remember our first real crush. The first person to give us butterflies in our stomach and get our hearts fluttering. The memories of our first crush often make us feel a mixture of fondness, heartbreak, and embarrassment. My memories of my first real crush often make me feel shame, and I often cringe at the things I did to try to get his attention and win him over. However, there is also an unfortunate twist in my story. My first real crush was also my worst bully.
By Lisa Lupo5 years ago in Confessions
