Tell us something you have never said out loud. One paragraph. Completely anonymous. No context needed — just the truth of it.
This Week's Confessions
Submitted anonymously. Published with care. Every word is real.
I am more afraid of being happy than I am of being heartbroken. At least heartbreak I know how to survive. Happiness makes me feel like I am waiting for something to go wrong.
— Anonymous · Lagos
I chose my career over him and I have never regretted it. I just wish I missed him more than I do. The fact that I don't miss him might be the most honest thing I know about myself.
— Anonymous · London
I went to my mother's funeral and felt relief. Not grief, not guilt — relief. I have been carrying that for three years and I have never told a single person. I am telling The Veranda instead.
— Anonymous · Houston
I am the friend everyone calls when they are falling apart. Nobody calls to ask if I am okay. I have started to wonder if I give off an energy that says I don't need anything. I do. I just don't know how to say it.
— Anonymous · Abuja
I have been engaged twice and called it off both times. Everyone thinks I am difficult. The truth is I keep meeting men who want the version of me that is convenient, not the version that is real. I am not sorry for that.
— Anonymous · Toronto
I spent six years building a life for someone else's approval and achieved everything they wanted for me. The day I realised none of it was mine was the loneliest day of my life. I am starting over at 38 and some days I am terrified. Most days I am grateful.
— Anonymous · Atlanta
I am still in love with someone I will never see again. Not because anything bad happened — we just ended at the wrong time. I think about him when it rains. That is not something I can tell anyone in my actual life.
— Anonymous · Lagos
I smile at my sister-in-law every Sunday dinner and I have never once meant it. She took something from me that she doesn't even know she took. I have decided I will never tell her. Some things you carry alone.
— Anonymous · Nairobi
I told everyone I was fine after the miscarriage. I am still not fine. It has been two years. I don't know when fine is supposed to arrive, but I am tired of pretending it already did.
— Anonymous · New York
Your Turn
You don't have to explain yourself. You don't have to give context. Just write the thing — the real thing — and send it.
You put it down. That took something. Check back Thursday to see if yours appears on the wall.
From The Confessional
The Confessional · Essay
On grief, gravesites, and keeping people alive in the only place that matters.
Love & Power
Am I looking for counsel or am I looking for permission?
Love & Power
On performing for someone who had already decided.