Confess ID : ypvlzidl
Sometime this week, i'm going to talk with my best friend, he being male and me being female. i admit, we have a little, k, a LOT more going on than we let on, even though it already seems like we're all cute and couply. but this week, we're going to talk about where our friendship/relationship is going. and i am scared. i'm scared b/c i know that i'm going to say ‘i want you to be happy' and give that whole schpiel saying that he could be happier elsewhere and if he just wants to be best friends, then that's what we must. but the truth is, i want him to stay, i want him to tell me that he wants to be there for me. true, we've said before we want to be there for each other, etc, but this time. this will be probably the final time. i would give anything to make him happy, and he says he would for me, and we both know that our education and our ‘family at home' comes first more so, but i want him to stay.
if you read this, 3, then please, know i,
Confess ID : lyg5jays
I hate that Everyone wants to take things to "the next level" as if life is some sort of video game.
There are no levels, people. There is only you, and you alone, and you are the only one who has to live with yourself when the lights go off at night.
Fuck them. Don't let them judge you. Be you. Be whatever the fuck you want to be. Be happy. Don't be something that you aren't becuase it's going to "lead you on the path of success"
Success is SELF-DEFINED. I decide if I am succeeding in my life or not. The so-called markers that we judge by, big houses, fancy cars, monetary wealth are all transitive bull shit. They evaporate, leaving you nothing but your own face, looking in the mirror, and wondering who you are.
Find yourself. Be yourself. Love yourself. Love who and what you want to love and fuck anyone who tells you otherwise.
There is no universal truth, and there are no universal standards. Find something that works for you and go with it.
I'm sick of being made to feel bad for wanting to be myself.
Stand up. Be strong. Believe.
That's my confession.
Confess ID : oix1mqhe
It was the weirdest thing.
mom and i were in the car talking about people and such, and somehow got onto the topic of boyfriends. i've never had a real boyfriend and she started describing a guy she thought would be perfect for me. she said: "over six feet, big and muscley, or at least very manly, very smart, funny, and not calm, but not as nutso or easily excited as you are". see here's the weird thing. i've been having these dreams recently with guys in them that are just that. big. manly. super smart. funny. chill. and i can't help but think that some guy out there who is just that will make me really happy.
but how long is it going to take for it to happen?
i'm 16. i've kissed but never done more then a kiss. and by kiss, i mean kiss. no tongue. no open mouth. just a kiss.
i want more. so much more.
and i want passion.
i want someone who will do nice thigns for me because they want me to be happy. who will call me or not be annoyed when i call them, just because. someone who gets that i'm not one for stupid people, and who isn't sutpid and will listen to me rant and then calm me down when i get excited.
and i know that it's too much to want when you're 16.
but a girl can dream.
Confess ID : u5iyww5s
My fiancee says that she ‘knows' things. I think she does. When we go to bet the horse races, she alwaysI mean, ALWAYSwithout looking at the program, picks the top 3 horses. She just points and says "7, 4, 1" and that is exactly how it runs, every time. I've made so much money off it. She picks lottery numbers, and gets them right, or nearly right. She never bets though, and she wont usually give me her selections, because she doesnt want me winning.
She woke me up one night and said, "Someone is here" and we found out the next morning that the apartment below us was broken into. She told me, "You should cal your mother and ask about the dog" and the dog had died not twenty minutes before. She dreams up people, things, places. They always come true. I was leaving for work one morning, and she came out the door, and give me a kiss and hugged melonger than she normally does, and I actually had to pull away from her, or I would be late for work. On my way there, I came to a yellow light and had to stop. Two cars in front of me pushed the lightand one got hit. I asked her about it afterwards and she nodded and said, "I know. Thats why I hugged you goodbye. It delayed you enough to miss the light." She told me not to take a job oncethree weeks later, the building caught fire.
She believes in ghostsswears up and down that they exist. When we were apartment hunting, she refused to even set foot in one house. She said she was raised in a house with a old lady in it, a ghost I guess, and she and old lady would sit on her bed and talk. Her family would wake up the next morning and they're all tucked into bedeveryone is tucked in.
I love her to death. But she scares me sometimes. When I look in her eyes, they seem so. old. And she knows so much more about things than I do. I trust her judgement completely, and she has never been wrong before. The ghost thing gives me the willies though.
Confess ID : up56gw5m
No one else knows it, but the vagina's scare me. I've never seen one in real life, but whenever i see one in a porno real up close, or when we do sex ed at school, I feel ill. Especially at school, when we get into the details of everything. I start sweating heavily, i feel sick in my stomach, i start to lose vision and hearing. I've managed to get out of class maybe 2 or 3 times just in time stop my self from throwing up, but once I tried to fight it. I stayed in my seat, started to sweat heavily, could barely hear anything and could see even less, and I spewed all over the desk and floor. And a bit on my pants too. In class. Everyone saw. With a smile and a chuckle, because I found it funny, I walked out of the room and down to the toilets and cleaned myself up. I don't know why i get like that, i can't control it. I don't know how I'll react when i actually get around to fucking.
