Confessions

There was a time when the "Confession Pages" went viral. Millions of people confessed, about their love, revenge, guilt, loneliness, and every other emotion or situation possible. Some made stories up to get reactions, some just poured their heart out. 
Wikipedia defines, "A confession is a statement made by a person or a group of people acknowledging some personal fact that the person (or the group) would prefer to keep hidden."
Over the time, I have read 100s of confessions. But it never made sense to me, the whole concept of confessing. 
How will confessing to unknown people help you to save yourself from bullying? Or not being able to propose? Or make people acknowledge you?
Sure, it'll give your mind some peace knowing you're not alone. But do people seriously need an anonymous confession to know that? How do you differentiate between a complaint and a confession?
Every time I read a confession, I wonder how much writing that stuff down would have helped that confessor.



Nevertheless, there are some confessions that I really liked. Here they are: 

- I think everybody hates me and excludes me from everything. I think that they don’t put the effort in, truth is, I don’t put the effort into my friendships. It took losing everyone to finally realize this.

- I lack the social understanding and emotion required to function properly in this world. I cannot form relationships, I cannot feel people's pain, and I cannot feel happy. Every day I go about pretending I’m okay, but the truth is I feel nothing but hurt and regret. I’m a waste time and space because I lack the motivation required to achieve things. I simply can’t see the point anymore. Out of the millions of sperm that could have made it, all those people with the potential to be something great, I was born. And I hate myself for it. Therefore surely I deserve the quiet and comfort of death, if not because of what I've been through then surely because I've done nothing to deserve this so called “gift.” Nothing to contribute to the world I live in.

- He broke your heart, you haven't stopped crying.
You've been texting me the entire time.
I feel so bad that you're hurting like this, and I am sorry,
because I've been sleeping with him.

- I have met a few wonderful ladies in college that are now my best friends. We get along so well and now that I have these ladies in my life, I feel completed. As I have grown to know these ladies, they have let me see behind their smiles and pain. I feel so guilty because there are no secrets for them to see behind mine. I am truly a happy person. I am a child of divorce and it has been a blessing in disguise. I have four wonderful parents who would do absolutely anything for me. I feel so guilty that my life has been so easy. I am a happy person. I hate that  my dad thinks there is something under my smile like every other girl I know. There isn't. My smile is genuine, and I feel so bad because mine is the only one around.

- I haven’t had a birthday party in 18 years because i’m afraid no one will show up.

- I loved you for many years. You loved me too. I know that our break is tearing you up. But, I feel great.
I don’t have to make time for you anymore. I don’t have to constantly build you up, only to see you fold to your insecurities. I don’t have to “check in.” I am free to do what I want, when I want without you crying about it.
I don’t have to wait around for you to get your shit together.

Good riddance.

- I have different a different persona for nearly every situation. I adjust myself to however most fits the specifics of the moods of people, the environment we’re in, who is there, etc. It is never quite the same as another time, so I’m always a tad bit different. I act however best helps me, whether it be to gain favor with someone, or advance in some way, without arousing suspicion in my companions.

Different groups of friends, different characters. Hyper, chill, deep, ditzy, laid-back, angry, combinations upon combinations- all mask I wear. But they are not so completely fake as a mask. Yes, they are an act. But they are also part of my personality, in some way.

These are visibly confessions, and not ranting.