“These will be the best days of your life” they said;

A time to be carefree; responsibilities a distant dream as you snake through the sandglass of youth.

Days spent in endless wonder.

Imagination and creativity exploding so forcefully from tiny small heads as if volcanic eruptions were spurting out rainbows and unicorns in a perpetual torrent of laughter and smiles.

A time to play without thinking, explore each and every molecule with childlike wonder and unlimited answers to the whys and the hows.

Afternoons playing with friends stretching long into evenings as if by magic; a never ending, never questioning time to be yourself;

These are meant to be the best days of your life… unless they’re not.

I remember a childhood bursting with worries. Tears never ending as if I could solve the worlds water shortages by just living one more day.

A time of the deepest darkness enveloping my childlike sense of security; monsters under the bed, giants hands stretching into my window to steal me away and no words to explain why I could never sleep.

Arguments surrounding me; each angry shout cutting through me like knives, each hit or hair pull as scary as the world that lay beyond my home.

Frowning faces of family disappointed by my inability to be perfect leading to my heart shattering into so many shards not even a god could have glued them together again.

I remember running after mums car following arguments that caused her to throw a bag into the boot and shout “ I’m leaving” before dramatically exiting stage left; this small six year old child calling everyone possible, crying and paralysed with fear unsure of if (or when) she may return.

I remember my sister running away barefoot; weeks spent in unknown places until finally a parent could hunt her down and force her back into the battlefield of our unpredictable family.

I remember being seven and genuinely wondering how I could hang myself on my wardrobe rail…

It would have been more tolerable that way.

At school I was the outsider; the one child nobody could stand.

The girl with more names given by bullies then hairs on her head who would later learn how bitter it is to be ignored by those that should have protected her.

She tried as hard as the worlds strongest man to lift up her head, yet thirteen years of torture leave marks no eraser could remove.

Alone

Unworthy

Unlovable

Jewish pig

Fat:

A disgrace.

I am so very relieved to report that my youth has never been close to the best days of my life.