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On being alone

There were days when I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as them because everyday reminded me of how I alone I was. There was only so much I could do everyday to calm this nerve. I would wake up and have nightmares that I couldn’t soothe and so I would pick myself up and walk out as an act of defiance.

If I was gonna feel lonely then I was going to do it alone.

I would walk for hours on the beachfront, sit when my feet got tired and go back to them when the remnant of last nights nightmare would fade. It was my ritual that I never failed to do.

It became a habit that I tried to keep secret for a while. But the bags underneath my eyes would always betray me. It hurt to be awake but ever more so to sleep. The night didn’t seem so scary to me anymore. It was a beautiful and inviting. What was I to be scared of? I was already living through a hard time. How much harder could it get?

It didn’t matter to me that I was in shorts that allowed the bottom of my butt cheeks to peak through, or that I had a single thin grey jacket to cover my bare chest. Maybe I wanted something bad to happen. Just so that I could mark the day.

I no longer remember who that person was. I don’t know if I should care who that person was. I’m alive now and that should be all that matters.

Right?

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A Reaction

What I’m learning is that there is no set way to react to things. You can’t cater and change your reactions to suit those around you. You can’t please everyone you meet. Sometimes things straight up disgusts you, or makes you angry or shocked. You are not going to have the same reaction as other people and that is because you are unique. You grew up differently from another person. Don’t be afraid to say so. React, respond and learn.

 

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Breaking

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People grow up and get over their pain. They stop ruminating over their past, all the mistakes they made stop weighing them down, stop creating fingerprints in their future and they just… move on.

Something I haven’t been able to do yet. Somehow, I’m still here, alive but not living. Jealous of everyone who was able to break in two and still put themselves back together. You see, I’ve always cracked, fractured my internal being, aways have creased and bent in ways unimaginable by the human mind. But unfortunately for me, I’ve never broken. Never had the chance to fully break into a million pieces and start again.

Or, maybe I have. Maybe I was broken to begin with and have never had the chance to feel whole. That the cracks and fractures are created on a body already broken. That the reason it’s taking me so long to be mobile again is because, I’ve always been broken in the first place.

You see, my energy has waned over the years. The want to try has decreased immeasurably. I used to have hope, belief I could be something, do something with my life. Now? I don’t know what the point is because despite the beauty around me, I remain to feel on the outskirts of it all. So far removed from life, what’s the point of living it?

Nothing seems colourful enough on that side of the story, does it?

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Favourite Spot

I wish that I could show you my favourite places 

Like my spot by the Thames 

Quiet 

Other than the sound of the river waving back at you 

As you stare intently at the reflection of the moon in the eye of the water 

It’s beautiful 

Far more beautiful than this place here 

This place which I’ve had to accept into the fold due to its proximity to home 

That’s been overgrown by humankind 

That has artificial lights dangling by strings 

Which shines brightly at night, casting shadows against the ground 

But is littered by an array of people 

I dislike it but make do with it 

It has its own brand of beauty 

Perhaps not on the same scale as my spot by the Thames 

But beautiful nonetheless 

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RESTARTĀ 

There was a point this month where I told myself that I would blog everyday this month. And that point happens to be on the 1st of November.

Between then and now I’ve seemed to somehow lose the want to do that – to do anything in fact and while I would like to blame it all on being depressed, that would be a lie. 

In truth, I believe the reason why I have avoided writing is because I am petrified to get it wrong and not do well. A feeling similar to not handing in a piece of homework because you know that at most, you will get a C in that assignment. Now, A C isn’t bad in itself, it’s only when you get a consecutive string of Cs while wanting to get just a little higher than that for once.

I know this just sounds silly because reading that back, I know the problem lies in not trying. I don’t try hard enough to become better.

Aye, back now anyway. 

Talk later, 

Nakedstreetkid out x  

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An honest story about Child-on-child sexual abuse

Child abuse is something that makes a lot of people uncomfortable. 

Child-on-child sexual abuse (CoCSA) damn right cringes people the hell out. 

I’m here to talk about both, if not now, then for a short time soon.

What amazes me is that it’s not widely talked about and victims of  (CoCSA) are shamed into silence about it or are mistakenly blamed for the sexual assault they encountered as a small child. Like, “no, that wasn’t sexual abuse! That was you exploring your sexuality, you little deviant!”

But guess what? 

If you’ve had to suffer through unwanted sexual contact as a child from another child, that is CoCSA. That experience shouldn’t be explained away, it shouldn’t be brushed under the rug nor should it be minimilised. 

Your experience is very real, incredibly valid and shouldn’t be silenced because it makes people uncomfortable. That’s not fair on you or your experience. 

I’m sick and tired of people looking down on victims of CoCSA because they can’t wrap it around their own minds how one child can violate another in such a way, but holy hell does it happen. And it happens in the thousands. 

One way or another, that experience can very well effect your functioning. 

I know because it has effected mine. And I hate it. Absolutely hate it with a passion and I wish I never had to go through that but I did. 

I did.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Challenge Me

I want to write more and learn to be a better writer.

I know that this is coming a bit too late, but I’m currently at a time in my life where things are changing. I may not get to places I want to go and that’s frightening. 

Something that I’ve never quite done was look on this website for like-minded  (or even opposing) content. And I regret that. I’ve seemed to successfully shut everyone and everything out so that I can continue to write in my own self-made bubble. And that is because I was afraid of what people may say and was sure that whatever was said would surely end in criticism, I would not engage in this community. 

But weirdly enough, I’m at a point in my writing where I want to get better, I want the criticism so that I have a more dynamic foundation to start from thats will allow growth in my writing style. Right now I’m bored and quite frankly, understimulated with what I write and the way I write, that ultimately, I would just like to grow.

And that does mean putting myself out there. That does mean receiving both critical thought  (which is good) and hateful speech  (which is bad). But I’m sick of not being challenged and staying well within my comfort zone. I need to get out and try something different, even if it ends terribly, at least I have tried it.

Dude, I’m ready, give me a challenge.

Nakedstreetkid out x