Confession Stories & Experiences

"You May Be Doing Better Than You Think"💯🤝

Let me tell you a story. Back in my school days, there were moments when I secretly wished I could be like some of my course mates. 🙅

You know, those people who seemed to have everything going for them. They always had the latest clothes, fancy bags, trendy shoes, perfect hairstyles….hey, just name it.
From the outside, it looked like they were living their best life.

I found myself praying hard to one day be like them and have what they had. I thought those things would make me happier. But back then, I was so focused on what I didn’t have that I ALMOST forgot the bigger picture.😌😞

Sure, I felt some level of contentment with what I did have, but it wasn’t enough for me to stop comparing myself to others. Little did I know, the reality for some of those people was not what it seemed. Life was more complicated behind their smiles and the things they showed off.

As funny as this sounds, I got to find out that one, instead of paying her tuition fees, would rather spend it on clothes, shoes and all that.

That experience taught me a big lesson: What you see on the outside isn’t always the full story. Sometimes, you’re doing way better than those you’re busy envying.

So, why waste your joy wishing for someone else’s life?

It’s okay to admire others, but don’t let that admiration turn into envy. Appreciate your journey.

Be content with where you are and what you have.

Trust me, contentment brings a peace that no bag, shoe, or hairstyle can replace.

Remember, true happiness isn’t about having more things; it’s about appreciating the little you already have.

“HAPPINESS IS FREE" 😁😃

It was a sunny Monday morning in Abraka, Delta State, when I decided to visit UBA Bank for the first time. I had some money to deposit, and I figured it was time to start saving properly. Dressed in my best outfit, which wasn’t much, I made my way to the bank. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was determined to get things done.

When I got to the bank, it felt like I had stepped into another world. The building was big, shiny, and very modern. Everything about it looked fancy. The glass doors were spotless, and there were people everywhere, some in suits and others in casual clothes like mine. I couldn’t help but look around, wondering how this place worked.

I got to the entrance and noticed the big glass door. It looked heavy and didn’t have any handle to pull or push. I paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. I stood there, thinking maybe I should ask someone how to open the door, but everyone seemed so busy, moving in and out of the bank with ease. I watched as some people walked straight up to the door and it opened for them like magic. I was fascinated. I thought maybe they knew some secret to opening it. So, I stood there, staring at the door, trying to figure out the trick.

Minutes turned into an hour, and I was still standing there, hoping for my turn to experience the “magic door.” Every time someone walked in, I would step forward slightly, thinking maybe this time it would open for me too, but nothing happened. I waited and waited. The sun was hot, and I started sweating, but I didn’t give up.

After two long hours of standing there, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed, the security man finally noticed me. He walked up to me with a smile on his face and said, "Oga, you dey wait to enter?"

I nodded, feeling a bit shy, “Yes, but I no know how this door dey open.”

The security man chuckled, walked to the side of the entrance, and pressed a button. Just like that, the door slid open smoothly. My eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t believe what had just happened! It was like magic! I walked in, still trying to process how a simple button could open such a big door.

As I entered, I looked around the bank again, amazed at how everything worked. The air conditioning was cool, and the place looked so organized. People were moving around quickly, and the staff behind the counters looked professional.

That day, I successfully deposited my money, but what stayed with me the most was that door. I couldn’t stop thinking about how something as small as pressing a button could make such a big door open. It was a day I would never forget—my first day at UBA Bank, a day filled with confusion, surprise, and a little bit of magic.

I had a roommate for a while, but he wasn’t fully a typical roommate. He didn’t pay rent or share utility bills. It was more like a kind gesture.
You see, he was in a tight situation and needed somewhere to stay temporarily, so I let him crash at my apartment for some weeks or rather a month per say.

He was an interesting guy, always full of stories and laughter and I was helping him out during his search for a new hostel space. After about a month, he found a spot in a hostel. When he settled in, he started packing his things, ready to move on.

I had to help him pack in order to avoid him leaving behind any valuable belongings. But despite our efforts to avoid this, he called about a week after and reported that he had forgotten in my kitchen, the ceramic plate which he won as a trophy as the fastest runner during an inter house sports that hosted about 10 schools in the region.

The next morning, I decided to help him out. I placed the ceramic plate on the table, beside the door where he would easily see it. I thought it would be super convenient for him to grab it on his way out.
But as fate would have it, while I was carrying some other things around, I tripped, shaking the table where it lay, and I watched in horror as the ceramic plate slipped from my saving hands. It fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.

I knew I had to lie to him about it, maybe tell him that I didn't find it, or that it was broken when I found it. But I am not a liar and he doesn't deserve to be lied to either.
I could hear the surprise in his voice as I told him about the broken plate.

He took it surprisingly well. I guess he understood that accidents happen. He wasn't so happy after I narrated what happened, but still we put that behind.

It was time for our exams and I was just seated at my desk, looking at the exam paper before me. Fear filled my mind as I considered the questions. As I looked around the room and saw my friends confidently answering the questions, I was so desperate. I decided to cheat I took a tiny piece of paper out of my pocket and carefully drew it out, and started copying feeling like an expert.
I felt so remorse as I copied the answers into my exam paper. Even though I knew what I was doing was wrong, I couldn't help but be afraid of failure. As I completed the last question and turned in my paper, it felt like time stopped.
After days, the results came out. I was surprised that I passed. But I was ashamed instead of feeling proud. I felt terrible about cheating.
I made a vow to never cheat again after learning that honesty and the work you put are the paths to true achievement.

Couple years ago my artist visa expired and became illegal in the US. My friend offered to marry me so I could stay, and I created a Coinbase under her name(she knew) as I needed KYC. She saw me sending money through there and started asking for money.

Bear in mind I'm an artist who lost his job, his home and didn't have much. I bought 400 dollars of Shiba Inu after I saw Doge go parabolic. It went to 3k she knew about it and asked me for 2k, which I sent.

Not long after she needed 9k to move to a new state, for an apartment deposit, etc. I sold what was left of my Shiba Inu and gave it all to her.

A month later she decided not to go through with it anymore as it was too demanding for her to help me.

I'm still illegal. I struggle everyday. I can't get a legal job and my Shiba would have been worth around 4.4 million dollars. She still texts me trying to be friends but I hate her and myself more then anything everyday.

My best friend would have been among the graduating students tomorrow, but destiny happened.

Faith, as she was called, was a very close friend of mine.

We were really intimate that even our coursemates argued amongst themselves that we were siblings. They said we look alike too.

I often wondered where the said resemblance was from, because, I knew deep down that I am no match with Faith, if it comes to beauty!

Her hair was long enough to tie a bundle of firewood. The deepness of her dimple swallows any man that glances at her. Should I talk about her diastema(gap teeth) or her glassy skin?

Well, I came on campus with the mindset of becoming a 'hot-girl', but my encounter with Faith changed the narrative.

If my memory ain't failing me, I think we became friends when I asked for her pen during the days of our departmental screening. We were both in 100L as of then. It's been four years already!

One thing led to the other, and boom! We became besties.

If not Faith, have you seen a friend who would always leave her lodge just to drag me to church, and monitor my reading schedules?

Faith would always inconvenience herself just to please me.

We studied together. She taught me courses that gave me tough time. She cooked for me, she even washed my clothes, we shared secrets, and yes, she was a bookworm and a guru.

Hmmm. Destiny happened indeed!

Faith was caught with implicating materials during our 100L Second Semester exam. She pleaded not guilty, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Faith was expelled.....

She was disowned by her parents. Faith was left depressed. Nobody believed her. Not even Samuel, her boyfriend. Then, she took the wrong decision.

Faith committed suicide!

Well, destiny happened. I never imagined it would end the way it ended.

I placed the implicating material in her pocket.

I gave suspicious signals. Signals that made the invigilator point fingers at Faith. And she was caught.

I only wished she was expelled, I never knew she would commit suicide.

If I meet Faith in heaven, I would tell her never to fall in love with my man in her next world.

Title: The Shadow Cult

Once upon a time, in the bustling city of Lagos, Nigeria, nestled within its educational hub, the illustrious Lincoln High School, a dark secret resided, hidden beneath a façade of academic excellence and teenage innocence. It was a secret whispered among students, a tale that sent shivers down their spines - the legend of The Shadow Cult Killer.

In the realm of this story, I found myself as an inquisitive student named Tunde. My days at Lincoln High School were abuzz with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as I delved deeper into the truth behind the dark legend. The hallways reverberated with the fear of the unknown as whispers grew louder, tales of unexplained disappearances brought trepidation to the hearts of students and teachers alike.

It all began when a close friend of mine, Chidi, vanished without a trace. Rumors spread that he had been initiated into a notorious cult known as The Shadow Cult. Desperate to uncover the truth, I ventured into the depths of the school's underground network, searching for answers while cautiously avoiding detection. My mission was not without risk, as I tiptoed through the dangerous and unpredictable territory of the cult killer.

Decoding cryptic messages and deciphering ancient symbols, I uncovered the cult's hidden lair, a secluded room adorned with eerie red candles and disturbing symbols etched on the walls. My heart raced with a mix of terror and adrenaline as I realized the severity of the situation. The cult was preparing for an initiation ceremony, a ritual that would not only extinguish Chidi's innocence but also claim his life.

Determined to save my friend from this ominous fate, I forged a plan. I carefully orchestrated each step, gathering evidence to expose the cult's existence to the authorities while ensuring Chidi's safety. My nights were occupied with sleepless vigils, observing the cult's every move, waiting for an opportune moment to strike.

As the awaited initiation neared, I discovered a weakness in the cult's leader, Obinna. He was torn between the need for power and friendship, having grown up with Chidi. Utilizing this rift, I reached out to Obinna, pleading for Chidi's life and stressing the importance of preserving their long-standing bond.

On the night of the initiation, tensions ran high. I positioned myself in a concealed spot, ready to intervene. Just as Obinna raised the ceremonial dagger to consummate the deadly ritual, our eyes locked. A moment of hesitation flickered through him, his grasp on the knife faltering as memories of their shared past flooded his mind.

"Chidi," I whispered urgently, my voice piercing through the eerie atmosphere, "Remember the friendship, the laughter, the dreams we shared. Choose now, darkness or redemption?"

Obinna's unquestionable bond with Chidi ultimately prevailed over the allure of the bloodthirsty cult. With a decisive swing, he deflected the knife away, severing the hold The Shadow Cult had over him. Chaos erupted as fellow cult members pounced, determined to continue the initiation. But together, Chidi and I fought back, reclaiming our freedom amidst the frenzy.

With our lives spared and the truth exposed, the school and wider community finally breathed a collective sigh of relief; the reign of terror had been shattered. The darkness that had once gripped the halls of Lincoln High School lifted, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie and unity.

As for Chidi, though scarred by his almost tragic fate, he emerged stronger, a survivor who defied the odds. Our friendship grew deeper, shaped by the trials we endured and the darkness we confronted. Together, we used our experience to raise awareness about the dangers lurking in the shadows, ensuring no student would ever fall victim to the clutches of such a cult again.

And so, the legend of The Shadow Cult Killer became a tale of resilience, friendship, and the power of reclaiming one's identity. We emerged from that harrowing chapter, forever bound by an unbreakable bond and a shared resolve to protect our school from an lingering darkness that threatened to haunt its corridors.

"Babe you have a tail" I screamed as Bianca was about removing her panties.

"Babe please I can explain its not what you think "

She replied kneeling down and begging me not to expose her dirty secret.

Bianca said she grew up with a little tail at the top of her butt and that was what prevented her from having boyfriends until she met me.

She also was hard to give in to s..ex cause of her no to s..ex until marriage policy. But she gave in today cause she was too horny to resist.

I watched as Bianca confide her biggest secret to me with tears. I wish she knew all I ever want is just to go under her legs .

After the emotional Saga, I tried to get her back on the game but she wasn't in the mood, so I let go.

Truth be told Bianca is sexy and pretty in facial looks and that, attracted me. All I want is to knack her and move on with my life.

The next day I saw Bianca rushing and happily entering in my gates.she then broke the news to me that she just got a loan from the bank, to use in doing surgery.

I was amazed "wait what did you use as collateral for the loan" I asked.

She explained that she used her father's house as collateral. I was quite disappointed, because I wished she new all I ever wanted was her body.

Few weeks later the surgery was done with and not quite long I had my plan manifested , I ate her untouched apple.

After fulfilling my plans I began having feelings for Bianca, because her attention towards me doubled . But Still I decided not to give it a thought, we meeeove! .

Been weeks and I've been avoiding her, she gave lot of miss calls but I refused to pick. I was done with her I'll say to my best friend 'Ade' , but deep inside me I still wanted her

One day I was coming back from the club late at night with a stripper, only to see some one standing in my balcony. Behold Thier stands Bianca in tears.

She began begging me for help, even if I don't love her I should save her father's house , if not for her at least for her poor mother.

I pushed her outside my compound and locked the gate .

But as I was about knacking the stripper I got from the club, she said she won't let me in, unless I tell her what happened between I and Bianca.

After explaining to the stripper, she began advising me, I felt touched and my feelings for her showed up. The next day I went to the bank and paid off the loan.

Bianca came to my house to thank me, but rather I asked for her forgiveness and proposed...
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To be continued....

some people around me if not most think i am an atheist.
yes i am a catholic church goer but stopped years ago when i started questioning things i see and hear. went far in finding facts and found mystery about the church especially the ones in Nigeria. Omoh I love God
i still pray with my heart most times before bed. i hate doing evil things to man and animals. but i no sha understand why if you no go church for some months people start talking. i also have this beards that makes me look like muslim so when these folks talk about God and i share my own insight and even questions that is when they start saying i sound like a muslim an atheist.
Live your life o
Man and God for the Journey
Find God your own way and know peace ✌🏿.
stay healthy mindwise

The rooster crowed, a rude alarm from my phone shattering my fragile peace. My head throbbed like a yam pounded by Madam Azege, and sunlight, sharp as her tongue, stabbed through the window into my room. A groan escaped my lips, heavy with the echoes of last night's Beer dance and the sweet, potent palm wine. My feet, leaden weights anchored to the bed, refused to cooperate.

Mass. Mama Atese's disapproving stare flickered in my mind. The image of Father Mark's booming sermon on the perils of late-night tomfoolery sent another wave of nausea rolling through me. No, there was no way I could face the church today, not looking like a masquerader who'd lost his way back to the bush.

Suddenly, a glint of salvation caught my eye. My priced rooster, Dagbo, strutted outside, his crest as magnificent as a chief's feather headdress. An idea, as cunning as a bush rat, snaked into my head. With a groan that was pure acting, I stumbled out, clutching my stomach like a woman about to deliver twins.

"Mama!" I wailed, collapsing onto a stool. "My belly! It twists like a python trying to swallow a calabash!"

Mama Atese, bless her gullible heart, rushed to my side. "Ah, Wan wamma!" she clucked, concern furrowing her brow. "Is it the beer again? That devil brew!"

"Beer?" I croaked, my voice as weak as a newborn chick. "No, Mama! It's... it's Dagbo!" I pointed dramatically at the strutting cockerel. "He... he cursed me! Said I danced like a hippopotamus with two left feet!"

Mama Atese gasped. Curses were no laughing matter in our compound. With a hurried prayer, she chased Dagbo away, muttering about jealous roosters and ancestral wrath.

By the time the church bells pealed, I was tucked in bed, a steaming bowl of macaroni warming my soul. Mama Atese sat by my side, fanning me with a magazine, her face etched with sympathy. And although a mischievous giggle threatened to burst from my chest, I managed a feeble smile. After all, who could attend mass with a cursed belly and an offended rooster chasing their reputation through the village?

So, dear Father Mark, forgive my absence. The blame lies not with laziness, but with Dagbo's vengeful spirit and the delicate balance of one's reputation in the eyes of their Mama. Perhaps next Sunday, when the palm wine has settled and Dagbo has forgiven my dancing skills, I shall offer my penance at the altar. Until then, let the spirit of laughter guide me through this day of well-deserved rest.

As I made my way to church today to catch a sermon, the familiar sight of children, dressed in their neat school uniforms, flooded my senses. They walked with purpose, their bags hung over their shoulders, some of them held books in their hands. The image of these young students trooping to their respective primary schools stirred sleeping memories of childhood, transporting me back to the days when I too was part of that eager crowd.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched the young ones hasten to avoid being late, some sharing stories of what they ate before leaving home while others kept walking mute and focused.

As I walked amidst the bustling group of youngsters, I couldn't help but reflect on my own experiences during those years. The friendships I made, the lessons learned both in and out of the classroom, and the gradual change from a curious child to a young adult set to explore the world.

I wished these young souls the same enthusiasm for life that I had, the same thirst for knowledge, and the same determination to face the challenges that awaited them. Their journey was just beginning, and it held lot of opportunities, so much than they can ever imagine.

When I was younger , I lived alone with her mother who sells food at the roadside.

My mother hated me so much. She believed I deprived her a whole lot.
I was still in my 2nd year at the university when i got pregnant. My only boyfriend who was also a student denied being responsible for the pregnancy.

My aunt whom I stayed with sent me back to my parents. But my parents couldn't pay my fees, so i dropped out.

The child came out looking like my boyfriend and that added to my trauma.

Whenever i looked at the child, it reminded me of the father and all the pain he caused me.

It's more than 15 years since i dropped out of school but i can't get over those feelings of regrets.

At any slightest provocation, I call her names, belittles her and even regrets ever giving birth to her.

Chika my child lacks love and affection. She doesn't believe she's good at anything because of the way I her mother talks to her.

At school, she doesn't interact much with her classmates. At home, she doesn't have time to read her books and she hardly does her assignments. This made her performance poor.

She spent most of her time doing chores and helping me her mother out in her business. She tried so hard to finish every task I gave her in order not to be scolded.

She usually helps me carry plates of food to the shops of our regular customers.

This is the story of me and my daughter and I have been living in regrets every since.

I always have this fufullnent and a joyous feeling whenever a female (a fine one, precisely) talks to me. Its been something going on for long that any day I don't converse with a fine girl in school, I just generalize the day as bad.

I was a smart but introverted. I was usually shy around girls and most times I avoid taking a path or meeting a female face, not because I don't enjoy it, but I was a shy type and even if I finally meet them, words escape me.

But I am defined as having two parts of life, the first part, a loner and the second part: a loud socialist.
I am usually very jovial with male friends, I am known as a celebrity amongst them, but the females could hardly tell what my voice sounds like.

A day I rushed off after school and left my friends which I usually went home together with. Can't remember the reason why I left them though, but on this day something different happened.

"Hello Andy, wait for me" I heard a voice beside me. It was Cecelia, a girl, one of the finest in school then. I usually saw her on my way back from school while with my friends most times and never have we exchanged pleasantries.

"Hi, I want to meet up with something though that's why I am fast". She said nothing but just increased her pace to fit mine. We walked for few minutes without any utterances until she asked why I wasnt friendly with her.

I had no answer, so I told her I wasn't, and also I told her that I am not a flirt who spoke to every girl I see. She could have gotten angry by that but she didn't.

The next day, she came after dismissal and we walked home together, so did she the day after, and she became a very close friend, my wife.

As days passed, some other girls added to the pair and I realised that I had this charm for girls, I never lost words around them, I always made them laugh and all and all.

I didn't become a flirt, mind you!. I just could associate with everyone now. I was just a better me. Girls conversing with me isn't any longer what makes my day.