#TruthSeries: Beneath the cloak

Whats beneath your cloak?

Life as it seems we all walk the street of the earth with one story or the other with our dresses so elegant and our faces so beautiful and it never seems that we have issues with our lives but still we try and be strong have heard several cases of suicide in recent times in the country (Nigeria), this was not always the case recently it was the one that happened in a church some where in Abeokuta.

     The fake smile the child acting happy over a new shoe or a new bicycle maybe a PlayStation3 this happiness ends when you get tired of the new shoe or cloth and u don't have new CDs to play on your Console and the reason for hurt and pain is back and you realise it was never the console u required nor was it the shoes and clothes.

Who do we blame for a failed childhood? The parents or the child? In this series we will look at true life stories of kids below 18 that their childhood is not one to remember or talk about but these kids have lived with this memoir trying to forget with no one to tell or how to let the pain out.

How it all started...

Growing up was not a walk in the park as the third born of mother and the and the fifth of my father you would think I grew up knowing the right things to do and you would believe I had all the attention I could get but reverse was the case. As a young boy attention was far from me Father was never around mother spends the greater part of her day trying to make money and give us a good life but the actual life was neglected the life that should have formed the bedrock of my future having four brothers even talking about your darkest secrets of pain was difficult because they were never available to listen all my father did when he is home was give orders and when it wasnt followed we were severely dealt with. When I was five years old I had started witnessing violence there was no love in my home no where to seek solace I wouldn't blame my mum she just wanted the best for her kids I would witness my dad beat up my mum as a child of five with no love in his heart and who had no body to talk to I had just one play mate and she was my mums friends child which makes her my family friend I guess and her situation was similar to mine maybe leaving out the violence her father was never around too we attended the same primary school and I was just in primary 3 when we started the mummy and daddy charade I can still remember all the Time we spend in the toilet kissing and smooching nothing was on her chest though but nobody knew all this was happening and it was happening right under our parents nose every thing I tried with her were things I learnt from my brothers. 

This event that happened 19years ago probably started my not so proud eventful life a life where I constantly deceive myself that doing the wrong thing is right, a life where sadness engulfed so much that my mind became so dark, a life where pain is all I feel every time I remember the girls I laid my hands on violently beneath my garment lies dark secrets and thoughts beneath it lie pain and hatred for the kind of person I am underneath this garment is where my greatest fear reside. As I write this I shed tears because what I feel and how I feel tears me apart and I seem not to know who I am anymore. This is the begining of a childhood that was not so great a childhood of pain and emotional suffering. Do not laugh at my pain because many of us are not bold enough to talk about the pain we feel it took me 18years to have the confidence to write about my pain and still there is more.

Written by seun.

I am waiting for him to continue this..

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