family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
Seaside
Tucked deep inside my memories exists a special place, and I have set aside an area of my heart where I hold it dear. This place is where I spent my childhood, where I laughed, played, loved, learned, cried, and lived. It was a small town without much to offer, other than a lot of fishing and nature. Some refer to it as a sleepy coastal town, but I couldn't have imagined it being any other way. This town that borders the eastern coast of Florida will live on in my memories, and I consider it one of the main reasons my childhood was so amazing. My family wasn't wealthy; they probably weren't even middle class, but nothing that made the beginning years of my life so rich, involved money.
By Geneva Carmona4 years ago in Humans
My Coming Open Letter to My So-Called 'Parents': 2 Years Later
To kick off Pride Month, I want to give everyone an update about a story I wrote on Vocal back in 2020. Two years ago, I had the courage to write an open letter to my "parents", not only coming out to them for the first time, but also sharing how much they verbally and physically abused me as a kid. Plus, them not letting me be myself and also portraying themselves as victims. In case you're unfamiliar with my backstory, I grew up in Texas to Liberian parents. I'm the oldest of three children and have two younger siblings (brother and sister). While most memories of my childhood were great, there were other times when my parents would yell, berate, and belittle me (mostly about my slim figure at the time and calling me hurtful names), followed by physical violence, whether I did something right or not. Even the smallest things would irk them and the cycle repeated itself again and again. These beatings and verbal assaults occurred on a regular basis. That lasted from childhood until my early 20s. My so-called "father" was the most abusive towards me. African parents never take any responsibility for their actions, constantly play the victim card whenever confronted with their wrongdoings, and denies everything that they've done to you, refusing to apologize. Not only that, but they have told lies about me to their friends and my own relatives that weren't true. Those are the reasons why I've been estranged from them for over a decade. Parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally and accept them for who they are, not harming them. They are our first bullies and if someone shows you their true colors, believe them.
By Mark Wesley Pritchard 4 years ago in Humans
This year: A gift of Life
This year: A gift of life Did you know that our nap-time was and will remain one of my favourite things? It was just me and you. A time of rest, no stress, rejuvenation, calm. You would read to me our story, that we made our own, a book titled: Just you and me. I would lie awake most of the time, seeing you drift into sleep rapidly, and trying to catch up to you in the dream world. Your breath became the only noise in the room. I tried to synchronise myself to it. And I always failed after a few breaths: or too slow or too fast. Following your breath-pattern wasn’t giving me the breaths that I needed in the long-term. I always had this thought: what if, when we are born on Earth and take our first breath, it sets off a rhythm in our breathing pattern. A rhythm that no other could catch up with. In that sense, it wasn’t me who couldn’t synchronise to you, it was just the way it was because we hadn’t started to breathe at the same time. I wondered where my twin of breath was: someone living out there, having been born and taken their first breath at the exact same time as I did. A memory of love in one of its purest forms when I think back to it. However, our relationship was not as synchronised-neither was our breath, you could say-and chaos was a ruler of many moments over the years. This year, coming back home to live with you, was such a fearful thing for me. I knew that being in person with you everyday would bring me to face my own shadows. I was tired of facing my demons after these two last years, but I also had the most precious key in my pocket this time which I knew would give the strength to let love be invited in again and again. The love of a mother. Having been pregnant, having that experience, even so short as it was, that love I felt move through me, lives in me now. This unconditional, world-creator, energy. I tapped into Mother’s love. I understood, suddenly, how much you were only doing your best, and that best sometimes lacked showing me the love in the form that I needed to understand that I was deserving.
By Liana Ville4 years ago in Humans
Sev
I’m going to be totally honest here. When you came into our class none of us were particularly impressed. M, my long-time assistant came over to me. “Boss,” he said, “I think this one’s going to be a bit of trouble.” He was right. You were not a happy man; you had a vendetta with the world… and yourself.
By Matt Pointon4 years ago in Humans
