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The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.
We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.
Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers who has asked to stay Anonymous.
This is her story.
The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.
I am the only female child of my parents, brought up in an environment of all boys, the perfect brothers and big cousins always around. I am the type you would refer to as “the loveable one”.
I grew up in a surrounding where my mother was hardly ever home, a certified workaholic. Knowing well she did it to make sure we, her kids had the best and never needed or wanted anything, amazingly her tactic worked. Growing up with three maids as well made one think “pffttt, spoil brats”….
Tales of my life, have too many sad and depressing chapters but here goes the most intriguing or at least the most I am willing to share.
I am one human, you would wish never to do wrong or any sort of harm to because I might as well tell you the precise day and hour the deed was done.
At the age of 4/5 , aunty grace (the main maid in charge) came to pick a little me and my little brother from a lovely day at school back then, picked up my little brother and according to her I wasted her time on coming to get me, when we got home, I was placed right on top of my dad’s old car, the red honda and then she released the 6 dogs on me while still placed on the car and then went into the house.
Dear God, I cried my lungs out that day, It was all thanks to the laundry man whom the dogs were familiar with that saved me literally.
Remember the mother wasn’t there to be told neither was the father
Once I was in the bathroom taking a bath, this was at the age of 6 when aunty grace came in yet again and forced me to place my hands on her breasts, like that wasn’t enough, during siesta once, she placed me between her legs which were wide up … Don’t ask I’m blank afterwards.
This was probably the beginning of my trust issues and belief that everyone on earth was out to hurt me, no one to confide in, no one at all.
In elementary school, there wasn’t much, I was more or less a stubborn smart ass little cinch.
In high school, I was the definition of downcast, a depressed teenager… I would express my feelings on paper, write the best articles, best song lyrics… Made others happy, but not me.
Suicide acts where my speciality, I read books on how to get really ill or almost killed. I finally got myself hitched with ulcer and appendicitis, after swallowing a couple of pebbles, and some other experiments.
I was a glad sad human, I would intentionally inflict myself with so much pain, it felt too good.
There is so much more going on but then
I am a little grown now, a mama virgin, still single… Insecurities here and there.
I am xia-yong, a young black lady’s other.
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A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?
N.B. The project goes on with ‘His Story, II’ by @Siji_B
You can still send in your own true stories to firstname.lastname@example.org
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