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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.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

Beneath my smile?

We all have that tale no one should hear. But what makes you is how much you let it resurface in your present, how much past you give room for in the present and for some of us,how much present you give center stage to in your right now.

I was in pry 4 when my parents split up. You should know that I never went homeless or hungry,that wasn’t the kind of pain I felt. I guess it’s not so abnormal to live in a broken family, that’s probably a first world problem compared to stuff in Somalia. In a family of 8, I was lost in the crowd, middle kid there about, I was caught in d middle of being a kid and a semi adult.

No one thought I understood. There’s pretty much not left to decipher after watching my mum being beaten, maltreated and treated like a rag. She was dragged on the streets and beaten to a pulp by hefty men. I’m not exaggerating, you should see the pictures. I guess women aren’t allowed to cheat back on men.

We were totally forbidden from having any relations whatsoever with the woman who birth us. At 11, I was used to having  prostitutes and low life hungry actresses, flicker around our “home” for private parties. I was barely moved honestly, my heart just bled for the way my kid sisters had to grow up.”Hide your filth!” was all I wanted to scream. Condom in his bathroom toilet, pictures of half-naked girls on his phone, ironing my own dads clubbing clothes on Wednesday nights and he’d still sit us down and mention God and honor to parents. Kmt.

As rich as he is, you’d think we’d have what we needed but pops squandered ‘kudi’ on babes and nights out. I grew up angry and never saying much about the family. People see rich and happy, I feel deprived and betrayed by both parties. I probably would have shot him myself if I didn’t need his money for school. Normally, one should grow and forget these things but not when it’s still happening now. I’m just thankful that Jesus turned my anger to strength. 10 years after, I smile for real.

10 seconds in the mind of the person you wish you were. I’m one of the prettiest girls I know. I’m not kidding, I’m really something to look at. I’m easy to love but being pretty doesn’t help that matter. Anyway, behind that smile and gorgeousness is fear. Not of the future or anything deep like that but of who I really am to people around me. I may sound stuck up and overly confident of my appearance but that’s just because wherever I go, people resound it.

I’m scared all I am is a face, scared I won’t have friends if I looked different,scared that’s the only reason people want to be close to me, scared I might just end up a trophy wife. I’m the last person you’d think would have self-esteem issues but I do and it’s real to me, it haunts me all the time and in my fear to be more I do and accept things that aren’t really me.

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s  ’Her Story, XIX’ by @ThatGirlDayo

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

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