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1. Short stories
2. Personal essays
3. Poetry
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Stay encouraged if your specific niche is not included. If you are a committed and thoughtful writer, then your work has a place here with us.

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Please allow up to 24 hours for your work to be reviewed, at which point it will either be published or an editor will leave a note. If an editor leaves a note please be respectful and understand that they are only trying to help you improve.

How to Contribute to Onward and Out was originally published in Onward and Out on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Regrettably, I did not know you very well.

I think it is a rare thing to discover who your Grandfather is. There are decades between us; innumerable days and nights, but I am your inescapable kin. There is an ethereal tether linking you and I, a bond that does not require an exchange of words.

One of the few memories I have of you is when you would tend your garden. You were surrounded by your family, over a dozen of your own. And It seemed that you were proudest of the blooming flora you had tended to for so long. I don’t believe that you needed the admiration of your children or their children. You had contented yourself with the simple fact that you had created these lives, and you were satisfied knowing that they also had a chance at happiness.

You did not have an easy life. Your wives had passed on, leaving you widowed and surmounted on an edifice of loneliness. Yet you continued, ceaselessly moving forward searching for hope, and companionship. I could only pray for the strength that would require, and I do not believe my shoulders are strong enough to bear such sorrow.

I do not begrudge you for anything you’ve done. Perhaps it is not my place to harbor such feelings, but maybe it is my place to forgive you only so that we may both have peace. I believe, truly, that you wanted only to find happiness: a fractured yet gleaming radiance in the mire.

I can see you in my Father and in myself. There are certain qualities we all share because of you, and for that I am grateful. And I believe you did what you could and in turn, my Father gave me a life I’m sure you would have liked to have given him.

For everything you did, and for everything you wanted to do, thank you.

Aaron

To My Grandfather was originally published in Onward and Out on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“the thought sometimes will occur to him that the road almost always does lead somewhere, and that the destination it leads to is less important than the process of making it” — Fyodor Dostoevsky

Happiness is a poor goal in life.

You may orient your energy toward the goal of achieving something resembling long-term happiness, but this would be erroneous. In a word, you should not be pursuing happiness, instead, you should learn to enjoy the turmoil associated with the pursuit.

This sounds counterintuitive. Why, precisely, would I not want to be happy?

To start, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. That is to say, if happiness presents itself to you, you would be foolish to turn it away because such a thing is exceedingly rare.

However, when I structure my life, or my ambitions, around the supposed result of being happy, I’m far less likely to undertake anything seriously challenging or worthwhile. Because otherwise why would I endure such a grueling process to achieve such a fleeting reward? Why spend any significant time pursuing a milestone if the dopamine I earn as a result is so minimal?

Furthermore, If my goal is strictly happiness then why not leverage all the tools at my disposal to achieve said goal as rapidly as possible? What is there to deter me from using drugs or alcohol to remain happy for as long as I can sustain?

You may even apply this to your own life.

Imagine a time when you were seriously engrossed in your work or a hobby; perhaps a moment when you were deeply gripped by some undertaking. Time seems to move normally, you’re not aware of the passing minutes or hours. And, the thought of happiness does not enter your mind.

We find purpose in life not through chasing happiness but by willfully enduring hardship.

So, if you are reading this and thinking, “how might I ever be happy again?” You may need to restructure the question. Instead of asking to find happiness, hope to find purpose. A reason to endure. These are often the things that are hard to do that will make you uncomfortable. Whether that’s getting into shape, finding a job, or dating again.

Imagine what you could be capable of if you learned to enjoy the process of pursuing a goal rather than the dopamine reward. Time would move normally again, and you would cease to beg for happiness.

Aaron

The more I fall in love with you, the more my future seems to shrink before me.

Freedom is a delicacy, something that is scarcely experienced. So, how am I to reconcile this with your impassioned grasp on my heart?

Every word you write, I feverishly consume. I must know how you think and how you feel, it is my greatest desire.

You are the most beautiful thing I have ever known. Could this be it, the last? Am I deserving of that, have I changed at all?

I want to know how it feels for my carnal passions to be focused on a singular, pure spirit. Would all others cease to be my object?

Everything she could want, and every fear she has, I will be her bulwark. In the deluge, I will be her bastion.

On this path we meet, and we move in dancing unison.

Two become one.

Other poetry.

Glass House

Virality was originally published in What Is Love To You? on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I am young, but please do not envy me for that. Being young means that I inevitably make countless mistakes that will make me cringe in retrospect. Recall the times in your youth that you wish you had just thought a little longer, times you wish you had just thought things through a little bit more. Being young requires that you exist in those embarrassing moments perpetually.

Wisdom is a costly virtue. It requires a lot of intuition, but more importantly, it requires failure. Anyone reading this could agree that those failures or those mistakes are often worth it, and though they were painful at the time, they still made you a better person.

I am writing today partly because I want to be completely honest. Initially, I wanted to discuss the topic of religion or politics. Still, before I tackle those issues or express my opinions, I would like to be laid bare before you.

I had a high school sweetheart. We dated for four and a half years before things fizzled out. She was a lovely girl, and I could have treated her better. At the beginning of the relationship, I had been fooling around with another girl for about two months without my girlfriend’s knowledge. I was fifteen, and my ego had grown considerably. As a result, I became painfully insecure — as is often the case with narcissists. I lied to my girlfriend for the duration of our relationship, and I was even able to convince her that all of her friends were lying.

Within days of the relationship ending, I entered into another. I could not tolerate spending even a moment alone. Unfortunately for this new girl, I had brought all of my secrets and all of my lies with me. She would also never come to find out what I had done.

This girl was beautiful, and she had changed me entirely. I felt the tremendous weight of competition levied against me. Every man wanted her, but only I had her. But I couldn’t ever appreciate what I had and felt I was never good enough. How could a wretch like me ever have someone so kind?

Being as insecure as I was, that singular thought never left my mind. Immutable jealousy has a way of tainting relationships, and it ensnared me completely. Every man that looked her way and every person that talked to her was my enemy. I grew to hate going out. I hated people and wanted to seal her off from the world. We would stay at my parent’s house and never leave.

Sitting around getting high and eating unhealthy foods for months on end caused both of us to gain weight and lose confidence. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t fun at the time. Having no responsibilities and consuming recklessly has a way of numbing your intuition.

It was March 2020. Covid-19 hit my city, and all institutions were forced to close. Everyone was confined to their homes, and people were discouraged from interacting with each other for any extended period. Thus, I was caged, and so too my girlfriend. We went weeks without seeing each other or even speaking on the phone. I could see how torturous this was to her, but it didn’t bother me. I was alone, and my government sent me money to stay home and do nothing.

Eventually, it had to end. So one day in June, we finally met again, and I left her. It was at a public park. She was crying. I stood up and said, “I’m gonna leave,” and then left. I would try to sneak my way back into her life on more than one occasion, only hoping for sex. But of course, it meant that I would get her hopes up and she would feel manipulated.

After this last girl, I scoured dating apps and used casual sex to stave off feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. One girl after the other, I would make promises of potential futures only to leave days after without even a goodbye. I grew cold and uncaring. The only thing that mattered was that I wasn’t alone, and people found me attractive.

My mother would often find me the night after seeing a woman; high, sitting in the garage, and watching something on my phone. She would say to me, “this isn’t you. This isn’t making you happy.” She was right, as mothers usually are. I wasn’t happy because I hadn’t cared genuinely for another person in a long time. That ended my bachelor’s life. I knew I wanted to care deeply for something other than myself.

I met someone not long after. I remember she looked at me in a way that no one ever had. She was intoxicating, beautiful, and intelligent but deeply troubled. A lot of her life before I met her was a series of horrendous events, each worse than the last. Every conversation thereafter she would reveal something else in her past that would strike right at my heart.

We spent all our free time together, she shaped the way I think and feel. I would not be reading or writing today if it had not been for her influence. She encouraged me to pursue the things I love, and we frequently had deep discussions. I never felt more connected to another person.

Over time she changed and matured. A year into our dating, she graduated, got a job, and drank very little. She had refined her needs and ambitions, and new opportunities were presented to her. Despite what would end up happening between us, I was and still am proud of everything she accomplished. I always admired people who refused to play the victim despite having just cause, and she truly was the embodiment of that.

As we both matured, this connection we had built eroded. I didn’t talk as honestly as I once had, consequently, I collected more secrets. As the lies compounded, I grew resentful and bitter. I hated her for telling me the truth and calling out my bullshit when she saw it. Staying with her meant that I had to face my sick self constantly.

She would plead with me, begging me to tell her how I felt and why I felt that way. I would lie because I knew if I told her I didn’t love her anymore, all of this effort would be for nothing. If I told her I could not possibly reconcile with her colorful history, I couldn’t see her anymore. I believed that if I could not love this poor girl, nobody would, and she would be alone. So I stayed.

As things drew out, I became cruel. I hated her past and wanted her to feel that. When we finally ended things, she told me she did not believe I respected anybody. She was right: my problem has always been ego. An ego that would not allow me to forgive.

The last time I saw her, she made me promise to change before I inflicted this pain on anybody else. Since then, I have found some peace in my life, rightly or wrongly. Spending more time alone and with my family and friends has helped me reflect on the things I‘ve done. And I can say in complete sincerity that I wish all of these girls find happiness.

This story has not concluded. I am still narcissistic and spiteful, but I’m trying to change. I know what I want and what I can tolerate.

The utility of a strong friendship is often understated. They hold you accountable and keep you humble. A friend of mine once looked at me and said, “I am disappointed in you, Aaron,” from then on I knew I had to face my caustic nature. I have done bad things to kind people, and I knew what I was doing.

And so, to keep myself humble, I’ve written out everything here. Know that I am flawed and capable of being exceptionally cruel. I have been a coward, and I’ve disappointed the people I love. But the weight of these sins is tremendous, and I’m willing to bear that.

Aaron

I am a Cruel Person was originally published in What Is Love To You? on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.