Real Stories

The first time I returned to my biological family, I spent five years trying to make them love me. My mother told me to stop competing with Lily. My father called me greedy. My eldest brother gave Lily the company shares Grandfather left to me. My second brother testified that I had tried to poison her. My third brother destroyed the evidence that could have cleared my name. And my youngest brother stood outside my prison cell and said: "I wish they had never found you." Three days later, I died in a burning car. And when I opened my eyes again... I was eighteen. Standing outside the Vesper mansion. My biological mother was walking toward me. Behind her stood Lily. Wearing my mother's necklace. In my previous life, I cried when I saw them. This time... I smiled. Good. They were all here. It would save me the trouble of hunting them down one by one.

ප්‍රේමයෙන් අත් හැරුණු පසු බෝ පළුදු වු​නු හදවතක් ස්නේහයේ කටු ඇනී ලේ ගැලු සිදුරු වු​නු හදවතක් අවැසි නම් විමසන්න ඉරුනු තැන් නොපෙනෙන්න... මසා නිමකල හදවතක් විකිනීමට තිබේ... මගදි හමු​වූ වෙදදුරෙක් මෙය පිලිසකර කර තිබේ... 🤍"

this book isn't really at risk anymore. it's still here. and don't worry, i'm still alive :) (not) Hello! This is my diary of becoming a real fox neko! Warning, this is 100% REAL. I am NOT kidding about this. And plz no hate. I try to update everyday! This book features my life becoming a mythic in a family of humans and a mother who doesn't really approve of this.. and for goodness sake, NO. COMMENTS. ASKING. ME. IF. I. WANT. TO. COLLABORATE. TO. MAKE. My. "STORY". MORE. APPEALING. this isn't a story, sheesh! enough with the trolling! I can't believe I had to mention this! Read on to see more! ;)

{Toptae Bottomkook} Boqortooyo qarsoon... Amiir aan naxariis lahayn... Iyo wiil aan ogeyn in imaatinkiisu beddeli doono wax walba

Being Indian American feels like living in a pressure cooker wrapped in a smile. You're told to be perfect, productive, palatable - never loud, never intimidating. But travel to India, and you'll meet folks who are bold, stylish, confident, and unapologetically gangsta. DEAR DIASPORA, YOU'RE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER is a sharp, personal callout - not to India, but to the suffocating performance of "representation," perfectionism and intraracial competition that dominates Desi life in the West. This isn't a sob story - it's a truth bomb. A cultural essay that demands real freedom, not filtered branding. If you're ready to sip some realness, break free from the cage of expectations, and find your max pro aura - this is for you. 🍋 Bold. Tart. Sweet. Unfiltered. 🍋 Just like a glass of limeade on a hot day.

This is a sequel to my story: The "Magician from Mallorca"

• Сᴀбин ᴄ ᴄᴀʍоᴦо дᴇᴛᴄᴛʙᴀ будᴛо ᴨᴩиᴛяᴦиʙᴀᴧᴀ ᴋ ᴄᴇбᴇ ᴄᴛᴩᴀнныᴇ иᴄᴛоᴩии. Коᴦдᴀ ᴇй быᴧо ᴨяᴛь иᴧи ɯᴇᴄᴛь ᴧᴇᴛ, онᴀ ᴨочᴇʍу-ᴛо иᴄᴋᴩᴇннᴇ вериᴧᴀ, чᴛо ᴇᴄᴧи зᴀᴄунуᴛь ɯᴨиᴧьᴋи ʙ ᴩозᴇᴛᴋу, ᴛо ʍожно ᴨоᴨᴀᴄᴛь ʙ ʍиᴩ ɸᴇй Винᴋᴄ. Ниᴋᴛо ᴇй ϶ᴛоᴦо нᴇ ᴩᴀᴄᴄᴋᴀзыʙᴀᴧ - онᴀ ᴄᴀʍᴀ ᴨᴩидуʍᴀᴧᴀ ϶ᴛо ʙ ᴄʙоᴇй ᴦоᴧоʙᴇ, ᴋᴀᴋ ᴨᴩидуʍыʙᴀᴧᴀ ʍножᴇᴄᴛʙо дᴩуᴦих нᴇʙᴇᴩояᴛных вещей. Рᴇᴀᴧьноᴄᴛь, ᴋонᴇчно, оᴋᴀзᴀᴧᴀᴄь ᴋудᴀ ʍᴇнᴇᴇ ᴄᴋᴀзочной. Вместо Волшебного ᴨоᴩᴛᴀᴧᴀ ᴇё ᴨᴩоᴄᴛо удᴀᴩиᴧо ᴛоᴋоʍ ⚡️🌩️⛈️

História real com adaptações

This is the author's real-life story, full of twists, turns, and experiences many readers will recognize as their own. A story worth reading.

Staring at her face in the full length mirror with a blank face, looking at her features, she tilted her head then slowly lowered her gaze to check out her body. She stood there in a silk black long dress, which fit perfectly on her curvy body. Backless, deep cut in the front, a slit from the thigh, showing off her skin just a bit but enough to make a man go insane. The dress screamed dominance, though it was very simple yet elegant. She lets a slow smile form on her face, one that doesn't reach her eyes, and suddenly looks up. In a blink of an eye, she picked up the flower vase and threw it in the mirror with great force. She didn't flinched- didn't need to. She let out a shaky breathe with a small smirk and dark eyes. Looking down, she saw her, once favourite, flowers scattered all around the marble floor with the mirror glass pieces. She stepped forward, letting the flowers crushed beneath the long length of her heels. She bent down, very elegantly, but keeps on smiling while picking up the pieces of the broken mirror recklessly while humming softly and letting it cut through the hand, as if nothing really happened. Or rather, it doesn't matter. It's her. Vaishnavi Konda. Just a south Indian girl, who they broke even before she understands the word 'life' and a story of her building her own world, strong and independent with unwavering confidence. "Try me if you dare and I'll give you just 1 reason why not to, enough to make you lower your eyes whenever you see me pass by." "I don't try, I live it." "Fear? That's funny. I don't have that in my dictionary." "Crying is a waste of time. Feelings are just a show. And life? Is stupid."

**P.S. This story is more reality than fiction.** It is inspired by my own life, but it follows the path I never took. It is about the words I was too afraid to say, the feelings I kept hidden, and the choices I still wonder about years later. Sometimes, a life can change because of one decision. One confession. One moment of courage. This story asks the questions that has stayed with me since I was younger: If I had chosen differently, spoken when I stayed silent, or allowed myself to believe that I could be chosen too, who would I be today? I will never know what that life might have looked like. So I wrote it instead. ✨ Based on a true story ✨ They were supposed to drift apart. Different worlds. Different lives. Different futures. Yet every time fate gave them a chance to disappear from each other's lives, another impossible coincidence brought them back together. Some connections refuse to break. The real question is... why? It wasn't love at first sight. It wasn't even supposed to be love at all. But when coincidences won't stop dragging two people together, what else can you call it? I try to post every Friday and Wednesday

im too lazy to write a desc rn

I'm openly sharing the stories of crushes I've had to the world. Every detail in a creative way. I hope we can cringe together and relate because it's something everyone goes through :)

How painful it is to be stabbed by the very person you gave a place in the deepest corners of your heart; someone you loved sincerely, trusted completely, and gave your genuine love and feelings to. You built dreams with them... only to realize that you were merely a passing chapter in their life, while they were the entire story of yours.

The first volume of an ongoing series, "We Were just partners" follows a story of two students with different worlds.

Hundreds of real moments, no particular order, no polish, just the truth as I lived it. A memoir told in fragments.

He promised her forever. She never expected forever to feel like hell.

Everyone knows his name. Jude Bellingham. The football star. The Real Madrid player. The boy millions of people watch every week. But Emely Harris doesn't know him. When she moves to Madrid in May, all she wants is a fresh start, a new apartment, and a simple life away from everything she left behind. She never expected a boy walking into her small café every morning to slowly become the person she trusts the most. To her, he isn't a superstar. He's just Jude. But when the world finds out who he really is, everything changes. Because loving someone is easy when nobody is watching... The hard part is staying when everyone is. More than a name. More than a number. More than football.

Hello~ Welcome to my poetry book^^ In this book, you will find a collection of poems I have written (and am writing) throughout the year. I hope you like it and make sure to let me know what you think~~ XOXO, minnie

«ل جیهانا من دا، بچووکێ... 'نەخێر' بوونا وێ نینە.» ئەو ڕەڤاند ژ بۆ هەبوونا خۆ، بەلێ نەزانى کو کچکەکا بێتاوان دێ هەموو یاسایێن ئیمپراتۆرییا وی یا تاریک ڕوخینیت.