Humanity
Everyone Wants to Be Rich — But No One Talks About Financial Anxiety
The Race to Succeed Before 25 : Nobody warns you that chasing money can quietly steal your peace. From a young age, we are taught to dream big. Be successful. Earn well. Build a life that others admire. Somewhere along the way, success became equal to income. And income became equal to worth. By the time we turn 18, the race begins. Graduate early. Start earning early. Succeed early. If you’re not financially stable by 25, society makes you feel like you’ve already lost. Relatives ask about your salary before asking about your happiness. Social media shows people your age buying cars, traveling abroad, launching businesses. Every scroll feels like a reminder: You are behind. But behind what exactly? No one really explains that life is not a stopwatch competition. Yet we keep running as if it is.
By Shahid Zamanabout 3 hours ago in Confessions
What's My Name?
Alan Gold asked me about why I had a double name on Facebook and Vocal. I thought I had written about this on Seven Days In but I couldn’t find any trace of it to fill out this piece. I mean this is just about how I got a nickname and appropriated it for myself.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about 4 hours ago in Confessions
Women History Month Celebrates: Ashley Bookashy
Nearly five years ago I started working at my current job and in the mornings when I first got there a girl in a red Kia parked next to me every morning. As this went on the first few months on the job we started interacting and joking about how we kept parking next to each other, but in time this great woman would end up being my best friend.
By Joe Pattersonabout 20 hours ago in Confessions
Word of the Day: 黄金雀
I am of mixed minds right now. I had this one guy I thought was cute and sweet. I was all confused because he was ghosting me and shit. He made me all sentimental and I was like a little lamb, but now there is this.......... really super hot guy talking to me. But he isn't just hot, we actually vibe a lot more too? I mean, I haven't met him in person so it might be just a text thing. Like, even though I am very excited, I calm myself down always and try not to lose myself in the delulu.
By Kayla McIntosha day ago in Confessions
My Voice Is Back
There was a strange silence in my account for a while. Not the peaceful kind. The heavy kind. It was the kind of silence that lingers in the background, even when everything else looks normal. The stories were still there. The platform was still moving. People were still writing, sharing, reacting. But for me, something essential had paused. A part of my participation had been quietly switched off.
By Aarsh Malik2 days ago in Confessions
The Silent Pressure of Being the “Strong One” in the Family
There is always one person in every family who seems unshakable. The calm one. The dependable one. The one everyone turns to when things go wrong. No one officially assigns this role. There is no meeting where it is decided. It just… happens. Maybe you were the eldest child. Maybe you learned early that crying didn’t solve anything. Maybe life forced you to grow up faster than the others. And slowly, without even realizing it, you became “the strong one.” At first, it feels like something to be proud of. People trust you. They respect your opinion. They rely on your decisions. But what nobody talks about is the quiet cost of always being strong.
By Shahid Zaman3 days ago in Confessions
The Foggy Uber Ride
There are mornings that feel scripted by a tired playwright. The kind where the alarm goes off too soon, the sky hasn’t decided what color it wants to be, and the world looks like it’s been wrapped in gauze. That morning, the city was swallowed whole by fog. Not the cinematic kind that looks romantic under street lamps. This was the kind that erased buildings. It turned headlights into floating orbs and reduced traffic lights to faint suggestions of authority.
By The Kind Quill4 days ago in Confessions
The Surrogate Heart ❤️
In the quiet hours before the sun hits the skyscrapers of a city that will never be my home, I am already awake. I am folding laundry that belongs to children who do not share my blood. I am preparing school lunches for a boy who calls me by my first name while my own son, four thousand miles away, is eating breakfast prepared by an auntie who tells him stories about a mother he only knows as a face on a glowing screen.
By The Night Writer 🌙 4 days ago in Confessions
