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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.

I’ve had this in my notepad for quite a while trying to decipher if to send it in or not because to be honest, I don’t think I can narrate my story well, I’ll probably just summarize it.

I haven’t written a depressing article in a long while. That’s what I view this as. At some point in my life, I decided to do away with any sad reminders and try to start afresh, try to be happy. But you know sometimes you try so much to be happy, you start to live a fake life.

I’m writing this now and I’m wondering what’s the point, its not like its going to make me any better or heal my wounds. Nah. I guess I just feel like talking even if Its to no one in particular. I’m in one of my moods now and I’m just here telling myself “its okay, you’ll be good and repeating: Jeremiah 29:11” …that’s the only way I stay sane.

I can’t exactly remember when but I just remember always being sad. I remember long trips to the toilet because that was the only place I could cry with privacy, I remember googling painless ways of committing suicide. Oh yes, I was about 13 or so. I grew up so fast. No, nothing particular happened to me, no I wasn’t raped. Yes, my parents are both alive. But somehow I’ve always been enveloped by this aura of depression, I’ve always been in a black hole, always felt alone right from an early age.

I was never good enough. They had to constantly remind me. Why can’t you be like your sister ehn? My neighbors, the parents. I’m sure they didn’t know what they were doing, I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt me. So many negative words. All balled down to the same thing, I’m not good enough. But I got used to that, at least I think I did. Got used to being the black-sheep, developed a thick skin, stayed to myself, cried to sleep.

Nothing hurts more than rejection. I think that was the worst. Being treated like an outsider by the people you love the most. People I thought were friends, that was in secondary school and it just added to the one from home “I’m not good enough to be in the inner circle” I learnt early in life to depend only on me and myself, I immersed myself in school work. I was only good to be dubbed from, not to be asked out.They only wanted me when it came to exams and tests. Lol I was one wrecked soul, I built a wall around myself. “Can’t touch me” lol, I hurt people in the process and now I’m extremely sorry. I’ve pushed away almost all my friends and broken bonds way beyond repair. I’m just too much work.

I’m 19 now and I like to think I’m way better than the 13yr old me. I’m learning to be better, to improve on myself with God as my Pillar. I’m sure people see me and envy me. Look at her, tall, pretty, hot, smart. Complete. No, I’m not complete. I’ve never been, but I’m a step closer to that then I’ve ever been.

You haven’t felt pain till you feel heartbreak especially when you just decided to come out of shell, lower your walls.

I’ve loved and I’ve lost
I’ve given up on life so many times.
But somehow, I’ve survived. God’s Love. Amazing Love.
I’m just learning to live one day at a time with that smile on my face and an easy laughter to go with.
Soon. I’ll be complete and maybe all these scars will be healed.

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s ’Her Story, XXIX’ by an Anonymous writer.

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

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