Bad habits
The Man She Called Casper
It took her longer than she wanted to admit to see it, even after he came back again. He had always been in control of the relationship--not loudly, not cruelly, but quietly. Through timing. Through silence. Through deciding when he was present and when he disappeared.
By K.D Leeabout 6 hours ago in Confessions
I Spent 30 Days Saying "No" to My Kids, and I Nearly Lost My Seat at the Table
I’ve always been the "Logistics Dad." I’m the guy who makes sure the 529 plans are funded, the tire pressure is perfect, and the backyard fence is stained before the rot sets in. In my head, my "Yes" was the roof over their heads and the food in the fridge. That was the contract. I work, I provide, I protect.
By Wisewordsabout 11 hours ago in Confessions
I Didn’t Realize I Was Ruining My Own Life Until It Was Almost Too Late
For a long time, I believed nothing was wrong with my life. I wasn’t struggling badly, but I wasn’t truly happy either. I told myself that this was normal. That everyone feels lost sometimes. That things would eventually fall into place if I just waited long enough.
By Tazamain khan 6 days ago in Confessions
I'm 47 and My Sleep is a Threat To Society . Content Warning.
I’m 47 Years Old and Sleep Is a Threat to Society Let me be very clear about something. I do not sleep. Not because I don’t want to. Not because I’m trying to be productive. But because my brain refuses to shut the fuck down.
By Dakota Denise 10 days ago in Confessions
The Day I Stopped Refreshing the Page
The Day I Stopped Refreshing the Page For a long time, my mornings started the same way. Not with breakfast. Not with stretching or deep breaths or gratitude, like people on the internet suggest. My mornings started with refreshing a page.
By Salman Writes11 days ago in Confessions
The Kind of Tired Sleep Can’t Fix
I’m not tired in the way sleep can fix. I’ve tried that. Early nights. Late mornings. Power naps that turn into guilt. None of it touches this kind of exhaustion. It lives deeper, somewhere behind the eyes and under the ribs, where rest doesn’t reach. It’s not the kind of tired that fades with eight hours under a blanket—it’s the kind that lingers even after the alarm clock says I’ve had enough.
By Salman Writes11 days ago in Confessions
