Hello everyone in the Unsealed community! I just wanted to check in and say hello. I hope you’re all doing well, and I wish all the dads a wonderful Father’s Day weekend.

Today is going alright so far. My husband is playing games on his PlayStation, and my cat is hiding in a cool spot, lounging on a pair of shoes. As for me, I’ve been cleaning out my laptop, sticking to my usual coffee routine this morning, and deciding whether to work on some more projects or take a break today.

With the heat wave we’ve been enduring this month, I could use a break. Anyway, I hope everyone stays safe this weekend and takes care!

What is a home? A home is meant to be an environment where you can begin your life. But how can you truly have a life in an economy where, if you’re over 21, you are expected to either find a job or go to school? I understand the expectations, but what about families who have done everything they can yet are still struggling?

Take, for example, a man and a woman living in a two-bedroom trailer, paying $450 a month in rent. They are also responsible for water, electricity, internet, and essential expenses, relying on a few hundred dollars in food stamps and less than a thousand in disability benefits each month. Both partners face serious medical issues and do not own a vehicle. How can anyone expect people in these conditions to survive?

Yet, many people dismiss their struggles, accusing them of laziness or of wanting someone else to take care of them financially. What do they expect? Should these individuals magically create money, rob a bank, or win the lottery? It’s not that simple when there are so many factors complicating their lives.

Unfortunately, the community often reacts negatively when individuals ask for help. Many people judge them harshly, assuming they are trying to take advantage of others or spend aid on frivolous things. But how can they truly understand someone’s situation without first listening to their story?

In a bustling city, Max lived a carefree life, oblivious to his dwindling finances. He worked at a cozy bookstore, enjoying each day without a thought of his budget. One sunny Saturday, he strolled through the park, impulsively buying snacks and coffee without realizing the impact on his wallet.

When he lost his job due to budget cuts, Max remained unfazed, dreaming of grand adventures instead of facing reality. His concerned friends nudged him toward practical solutions, but he insisted everything would work out in its way. It wasn’t until his neighbor, Sarah, visited and laid out the truth that he began to understand his situation.

With her help, Max learned to budget and seek new job opportunities. Though he struggled at first, he gradually found joy in small victories. He discovered the importance of balancing dreams with responsibility, transforming his obliviousness into a newfound awareness that opened up a world of possibilities.

Hello, writing community. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m a single mother of three kids: two daughters, aged 15 and 10, and a son who would have turned 3 this year, but sadly, he passed away four years ago.

Since I got remarried in 2022, I haven’t accomplished much in my life. I’ve been trying to re-enter the workforce after losing my most recent job due to medical issues and not having a car at the moment. I’ve recently been looking for work-from-home jobs because I’ve been advised that, given my current circumstances, I can only pursue positions that allow me to work at a desk or from home.

I am capable of doing computer work, cleaning houses, babysitting, or caring for pets. However, without a car, it has been challenging to find jobs elsewhere.

Currently, I receive a disability check and live with several conditions, including ADHD, PTSD, ODD, BPD, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. Additionally, I suffer from IBS, GERD, gastritis, sciatica, stress fractures, COPD, bradycardia, and sinus arrhythmia. My life can be complicated, but I do my best to function daily, even though I’m 35 and not as active as I would like to be.
I’m now back in the world, looking for something new. If you’d like to get to know me or comment on my material, feel free to message me anytime.

Recently I have discovered in my small community that your guilty until proven innocent without even knowing things were going on behind the scenes. What do I mean by this? Being black mailed has scared even Christians to do what’s right when the time comes. The church I attended the neighbors I lived next to doctors teachers attorneys and many more were involved in the childhood battles I have faced and even as an adult still face today. My father in heaven. Told me to speak up and speak against this judicial system which is a hierarchy of wealthy men controll the less fortunate aka the elite control the community. There’s no middle class,in my small town of Hillsdale. What is said goes and people lie about things and hurt anointed ones without doing research ,to see if what’s said was even true. People are falsely testifying and involving children and minions to do their dirty work. I’m writing this to Inspire that they are not alone .what I overcome no woman has overcome in the history of this area. What tactics have been used on me and others before me no longer work they picked the right one to mess with this time. God called judgement and my case was won in the heavily courts and here on earth justice will now be served. Keep fighting for what’s right you are not alone you are not crazy chances are what you are experiencing has to do with past money or assets and they have put someone else as a child in your place. God doesn’t make mistakes go for the gold take back what the enemy stole. Much love and light 🕯️

Hello Unsealed Community,
I just joined this writing platform and to be honest I am not sure what I should say for my introduction. I am socially awkward so interacting with people is very hard for me. Writing is different though. I feel more at ease when I write and can express myself better than I ever could with spoken words. I always loved to write ever since I was little; it is my safe space. Because of this I have been looking for ways to improve my writing and I stumbled upon this community. I have always wanted to find people who loved what I loved. Being homeschooled for most of my life, it was difficult to interact with other people, much less find a group that enjoyed what I enjoyed. So I spent a lot of time by myself with my writing. With that being said, I am truly grateful that I found this community. I hope I can build my writing skills here, as well as meet lots of people and hear all their different stories.

As Springtime starts to approach,
I feel such a relief of frozeness.
I feel such relief of stillness.
Springtime for me is a time to feel alive.
Feel free.
It’s a time to let warm sensations caress the body.
Springtime is about growth.
About planting those asparagus seeds and watching what comes from those tiny seeds.
From what once was tiny to what will be extraordinary.
Springtime is like a crayon.
Soft.
Gentle.
Full of creativity.
Full of color.
Full of brightness.
Springtime is like a crayon.
Leaving your mark on what once was to something beautiful.
To something magical.
For some, Springtime can be a time of transformation.
A time to use their personal napkin to cleanup what was to make room for what will be.
As Springtime starts to approach, I leave winter with this…
“Thank you for the lessons.
I’m ready for the homework.
I’m ready to put the frost bites of my past in the freezer of yesterday & open the fridge of growth for today.”

** 3 word prompt poem: Asparagus. Crayon
Napkin **

Unsealers,

I seem to have a difficult time finding the right words to begin an introduction about who I am because I am still trying to figure that out for myself. I do know that I have a story to tell, and I feel incredibly grateful to have stumbled upon this community where I finally have an opportunity to start doing that for the first time in my life.
Starting at a young age, I had a craving for the fast life. I entered into the throws of addiction shortly after my age became double digits, I was gifted with a laundry list of mental health diagnosis at age 25 including but not limited to type 1 bipolar, C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression; and in turn I have landed myself in some fairly… less than ideal circumstances due to those facts. All in all my intentions are mostly pure, but I have a tendency to take red flags and mistake them for a carnival, and I seem to try every wrong thing first before I finally get life figured out. Some of the shit I have gotten myself into has changed me forever, some of it makes for a hilarious story, and some of it can still bring me to tears just by thinking about it. All of it has brought me to where I am today. I have experienced child birth, divorce (not once but twice), multiple types of abuse (both on the giving and receiving end), homelessness, prostitution, incarceration, and the list goes on. It will be interesting to see going forward how this all eventually gets out on paper, but I appreciate every one of you that are about to guide me through making that happen. I would love to get to know you all, and I am looking forward to reading what each of you has to say.

XOXO, kendy

May this find you all in good health and wellness.
Let me introduce myself:

I am AmbitiousBMarie. (Branching off to a new name soon ***NoireRequiem***
Been writing since I was 13.
I’m a former foster youth and I strongly believe writing played a major role in my therapy during that time.
I’m currently located in York,PA
I was born and raised in NYC, Tha Bronx.
I want to bring people on the journey of my life.

We are the ones who hold the history of this World.
We are the true storytelling animals that write through it all.
And I am here to give my part of the story.

So glad to find community online and I hope we all can find solace in each other’s writing journey.

***A Poem for the Fallen Soldiers and Officers**

They rose each day, laced their boots tight,
Stepped into the dark to carry the light.
Not for the glory, not for the fame,
But to answer the call-no matter the name.

Through city streets and quiet towns,
They stood tall when the world broke down.
A shield of honor, a heart so brave,
A promise given, a life they gave.

Their voices echo in whispered wind,
In every life they swore to defend.
Their footsteps linger, though they are gone.
In every dawn, their spirit shines on.

To the families left with empty space,
Love remains-it can’t be erased.
Their sacrifice, a heavy toll,
But love and courage never grow cold.

So we stand today with heads held high,
Saluting those who touched the sky.
Gone too soon, yet never apart,
Forever alive in memory’s heart.

Hush now child, we are going on a journey.
We will be free from turmoil on our home soil.
We will seek asylum in the land of the free,
No worries of war in our far away home.

The waves may rise, the winds may howl,
But hold my hand, we’ll make it somehow.
Through deserts, through forests, we walk unseen,
Chasing the promise of a brighter dream.

Hush now child, don’t cry from the cold,
The road is hard, but our hearts are bold.
The stars above guide our weary souls,
Through shadows and doubt, we chase our goals.

They call it freedom, they call it hope,
A place where we’re given a chance to cope.
But oh, the cost, the burdens we bear,
Strangers in a land that may not care.

Hush now child, keep your head held high,
Even if the questions start to pry.
“Why are you here? What do you seek?”
They don’t see the strength in the tired and meek.

We carry the weight of our stories untold,
Of villages burned, of nights so cold.
Yet still, we rise, through fear and disdain,
Planting new roots in soil laced with pain.

Hush now child, for someday they’ll see,
Our struggle, our fight, our legacy.
We build with hope, with tears, with love,
For a future we dream, as vast as the skies above.

The moment they thought DEI meant Black or queer,
was the moment they lost the war,
so far removed from the struggle,
like history ain’t at their door.

They forget—
they were once as poor,
if not standing beside us, knee-deep in the same war.
Before race, there was class,
before color, there was caste,
yet the blame never lands
on the hands that built the past.

The structure was forged with intent,
inequality chiseled in stone.
Yet the victims bear the weight—
never the architects on their thrones.

We ain’t choose to be here,
displaced, discarded, denied.
And the land? It was never theirs to give,
yet they legislate stolen soil with pride.

And now, the world shakes,
coups play out in real-time,
yet we watch—numb, scrolling,
like history don’t rhyme.

There is no ethical billionaire,
only loopholes and ledgers,
only tax cuts dressed as charity,
only wealth hoarded in hidden treasures.

To be ethical is to see,
to hold every class in your care.
But justice ain’t profitable,
so tell me—who’s really aware?