eklassical: mine was on july30, this year when my dad died, i was not around the house,it was just my mom and him... he kicked the bucket without saying a thing to my mom... it was very traumatic.

1stToComment: I was 7 years old. I still think I was a happy child then, even with the fact I was not my dad's favourite child and he did everything possible to show it, I was still happy. I remember clearly then when myself and my siblings all fell ill during my mum's absence. I developed symptoms before the others and was ignored until the others took ill too. They were taken to the hospital immediately and I was left at home. My little kid brother had to share his medication with me secretly to make me feel better.

The others had lovely pet names but I was named given horrible nick-names by my dad. As a little child I could not understand why I was hated so much. I remember my mum challenging my dad about it after it became unbearable for her, but there was little she could do and I was left to my fate. I did not get presents or toys from him like the others did and I guess I spent more time studying as an escape. I did brilliantly in my academics and was tops in my class. I remember once at the end of the term, how I wailed on my way home after I got my report card. I thought I was 18th best in class not knowing it was 1st as the teachers 's' seemed like an '8'. I thought my dad would kill me. I dared not give him my report card and rather gave my little brother to pass it on when he started shouting for it. I got the shock of my life! He shook my hand and that was the closest display of "affection" I ever got from him.

I got blamed by my dad for anything that went wrong so long as I was present when it happened and after a while my siblings began to have the same belief and scream my name when they hurt themselves.

The worst that ever happened to me was while I was playing close to my sister and she tripped, fell and lost four teeth. She screamed my name, just because I was present and I before I could say Robinson, my father was upon me.

It started with Punches and kicks.His only words were " I will kill you today" My poor helpless mother quickly asked what was wrong and he told her I beat my sister and broke 4 permanent teeth. I could see her turn white. I must have lost and regained conciousness about 2 times and wet myself. My poor mother quickly ran to get a cane to stop the blows, but she could not find any. Unfortunately in her hurry, she came back with a stick that was laden with thorns.

He used it until it was no more. At this time, I was no longer screaming with pain. I was too weak to cry. I could see the sadness in the eyes of my siblings and looked on to them with a little strand of hope in my eyes that they will save me. They could not and I thought I was dying.I could not move afterwards and my mum had to get me treated for multiple injuries.

A week later I was able to go to school but the wounds still looked fresh. My teacher noticed and I was taken to the headmaster's office to explain how I came about the wounds. I told them it was my dad and they stared in disbelief. A teacher volunteered to call the police but another teacher told them I must have done something horrible to get that kind of beating and that they should let the matter go away. They kept asking if I was sure it was my dad who gave me those injuries. They promised to send someone to my home to get the other side of the story but never did.

I still carry some of those scars on my body after 35 years as well as the psychological scars, I grew up to hate my family so much. I remember weeping profusely when I watched the first part of the "Aluu4" murder video before they were finally killed. I was crying because I could imagine what those boys were going through. I was crying for a little boy. I was crying for me.

1stToComment: I was 7 years old. I still think I was a happy child then, even with the fact I was not my dad's favourite child and he did everything possible to show it, I was still happy. I remember clearly then when myself and my siblings all fell ill during my mum's absence. I developed symptoms before the others and was ignored until the others took ill too. They were taken to the hospital immediately and I was left at home. My little kid brother had to share his medication with me secretly to make me feel better.

The others had lovely pet names but I was named given horrible nick-names by my dad. As a little child I could not understand why I was hated so much. I remember my mum challenging my dad about it after it became unbearable for her, but there was little she could do and I was left to my fate. I did not get presents or toys from him like the others did and I guess I spent more time studying as an escape. I did brilliantly in my academics and was tops in my class. I remember once at the end of the term, how I wailed on my way home after I got my report card. I thought I was 18th best in class not knowing it was 1st as the teachers 's' seemed like an '8'. I thought my dad would kill me. I dared not give him my report card and rather gave my little brother to pass it on when he started shouting for it. I got the shock of my life! He shook my hand and that was the closest display of "affection" I ever got from him.

I got blamed by my dad for anything that went wrong so long as I was present when it happened and after a while my siblings began to have the same belief and scream my name when they hurt themselves.

The worst that ever happened to me was while I was playing close to my sister and she tripped, fell and lost four teeth. She screamed my name, just because I was present and I before I could say Robinson, my father was upon me.

It started with Punches and kicks.His only words were " I will kill you today" My poor helpless mother quickly asked what was wrong and he told her I beat my sister and broke 4 permanent teeth. I could see her turn white. I must have lost and regained conciousness about 2 times and wet myself. My poor mother quickly ran to get a cane to stop the blows, but she could not find any. Unfortunately in her hurry, she came back with a stick that was laden with thorns.

He used it until it was no more. At this time, I was no longer screaming with pain. I was too weak to cry. I could see the sadness in the eyes of my siblings and looked on to them with a little strand of hope in my eyes that they will save me. They could not and I thought I was dying.I could not move afterwards and my mum had to get me treated for multiple injuries.

A week later I was able to go to school but the wounds still looked fresh. My teacher noticed and I was taken to the headmaster's office to explain how I came about the wounds. I told them it was my dad and they stared in disbelief. A teacher volunteered to call the police but another teacher told them I must have done something horrible to get that kind of beating and that they should let the matter go away. They kept asking if I was sure it was my dad who gave me those injuries. They promised to send someone to my home to get the other side of the story but never did.

I still carry some of those scars on my body after 35 years as well as the psychological scars, I grew up to hate my family so much. I remember weeping profusely when I watched the first part of the "Aluu4" murder video before they were finally killed. I was crying because I could imagine what those boys were going through. I was crying for a little boy. I was crying for me.

1stToComment: I was 7 years old. I still think I was a happy child then, even with the fact I was not my dad's favourite child and he did everything possible to show it, I was still happy. I remember clearly then when myself and my siblings all fell ill during my mum's absence. I developed symptoms before the others and was ignored until the others took ill too. They were taken to the hospital immediately and I was left at home. My little kid brother had to share his medication with me secretly to make me feel better.

The others had lovely pet names but I was named given horrible nick-names by my dad. As a little child I could not understand why I was hated so much. I remember my mum challenging my dad about it after it became unbearable for her, but there was little she could do and I was left to my fate. I did not get presents or toys from him like the others did and I guess I spent more time studying as an escape. I did brilliantly in my academics and was tops in my class. I remember once at the end of the term, how I wailed on my way home after I got my report card. I thought I was 18th best in class not knowing it was 1st as the teachers 's' seemed like an '8'. I thought my dad would kill me. I dared not give him my report card and rather gave my little brother to pass it on when he started shouting for it. I got the shock of my life! He shook my hand and that was the closest display of "affection" I ever got from him.

I got blamed by my dad for anything that went wrong so long as I was present when it happened and after a while my siblings began to have the same belief and scream my name when they hurt themselves.

The worst that ever happened to me was while I was playing close to my sister and she tripped, fell and lost four teeth. She screamed my name, just because I was present and I before I could say Robinson, my father was upon me.

It started with Punches and kicks.His only words were " I will kill you today" My poor helpless mother quickly asked what was wrong and he told her I beat my sister and broke 4 permanent teeth. I could see her turn white. I must have lost and regained conciousness about 2 times and wet myself. My poor mother quickly ran to get a cane to stop the blows, but she could not find any. Unfortunately in her hurry, she came back with a stick that was laden with thorns.

He used it until it was no more. At this time, I was no longer screaming with pain. I was too weak to cry. I could see the sadness in the eyes of my siblings and looked on to them with a little strand of hope in my eyes that they will save me. They could not and I thought I was dying.I could not move afterwards and my mum had to get me treated for multiple injuries.

A week later I was able to go to school but the wounds still looked fresh. My teacher noticed and I was taken to the headmaster's office to explain how I came about the wounds. I told them it was my dad and they stared in disbelief. A teacher volunteered to call the police but another teacher told them I must have done something horrible to get that kind of beating and that they should let the matter go away. They kept asking if I was sure it was my dad who gave me those injuries. They promised to send someone to my home to get the other side of the story but never did.

I still carry some of those scars on my body after 35 years as well as the psychological scars, I grew up to hate my family so much. I remember weeping profusely when I watched the first part of the "Aluu4" murder video before they were finally killed. I was crying because I could imagine what those boys were going through. I was crying for a little boy. I was crying for me.

Royal Roy: The most traumatic day of my life was the day someone I loved deeply called me a foool and a bastard all in one breadth!! I felt like killing someone, even though she begged with tears and tried to make ammends, my mind was off her already. 3 weeks later we parted ways. Just can't stand calling or being called a bastard.

coastland: I've learned to take life from one angle and so far it has helped me;
I have less nightmare, less anxiety, less grief.
The theory is: every disappointment is a blessing or for those who believe in the christian faith every thing work for good for the children of God.
If u embrace this philosophy you will ever be happy.
After all why worry, why dwell on what u can't change?
Brain Tracy said anything that has no solution is not a problem.
You can't bring back a lost loved one, you can't 'unwrite' what someone said or did to you, so why keep it in you diary and allow it to slow you down.
Don't even think about it, don't even talk about it - let it go!

Think on this, change your paradigm and believe that it happened in the best of your interest.

A word from the Coastland.

BOLOSKY: July 30th of this year..exactly a month i came bk from UK against mum's idea..was home alone and suffered a stroke..felt so helpless..managed to make a phone call..while I was waiting i thought of my doors(bullet proof) which was locked from inside so I dragged myself downstairs to unlock this door ..my doctors called that a miracle move...well I layed on the floor and my phone kept ringing @ this point I couldnt see who was calling all I saw was light on my phone screen and I knew I was dying..flashbacks and some regrets(thoughts of family and ex gf I did strong things)LOL..tears falling from my eyes..I couldn't believe I could be that helpless and kinda felt it was time to go meet my creator....finally help came with pastors and all..by then the right half of my body was gone..the prayers on the way to the hospital gave me hope..spent a month in hospital..scariest part was when i didn't have an erection after almost two weeks but thank GOD the anaconda is back in action and deadlier than ever.LOL..well guyz are very alright now sha..but I dey try my best to resist temptation...I dey thank and pray to GOD steady.good it didn't happen on a day etisalat was having network problem..this was my most traumatic experience..


Allow my long story

1stToComment: I was 7 years old. I still think I was a happy child then, even with the fact I was not my dad's favourite child and he did everything possible to show it, I was still happy. I remember clearly then when myself and my siblings all fell ill during my mum's absence. I developed symptoms before the others and was ignored until the others took ill too. They were taken to the hospital immediately and I was left at home. My little kid brother had to share his medication with me secretly to make me feel better.

The others had lovely pet names but I was named given horrible nick-names by my dad. As a little child I could not understand why I was hated so much. I remember my mum challenging my dad about it after it became unbearable for her, but there was little she could do and I was left to my fate. I did not get presents or toys from him like the others did and I guess I spent more time studying as an escape. I did brilliantly in my academics and was tops in my class. I remember once at the end of the term, how I wailed on my way home after I got my report card. I thought I was 18th best in class not knowing it was 1st as the teachers 's' seemed like an '8'. I thought my dad would kill me. I dared not give him my report card and rather gave my little brother to pass it on when he started shouting for it. I got the shock of my life! He shook my hand and that was the closest display of "affection" I ever got from him.

I got blamed by my dad for anything that went wrong so long as I was present when it happened and after a while my siblings began to have the same belief and scream my name when they hurt themselves.

The worst that ever happened to me was while I was playing close to my sister and she tripped, fell and lost four teeth. She screamed my name, just because I was present and I before I could say Robinson, my father was upon me.

It started with Punches and kicks.His only words were " I will kill you today" My poor helpless mother quickly asked what was wrong and he told her I beat my sister and broke 4 permanent teeth. I could see her turn white. I must have lost and regained conciousness about 2 times and wet myself. My poor mother quickly ran to get a cane to stop the blows, but she could not find any. Unfortunately in her hurry, she came back with a stick that was laden with thorns.

He used it until it was no more. At this time, I was no longer screaming with pain. I was too weak to cry. I could see the sadness in the eyes of my siblings and looked on to them with a little strand of hope in my eyes that they will save me. They could not and I thought I was dying.I could not move afterwards and my mum had to get me treated for multiple injuries.

A week later I was able to go to school but the wounds still looked fresh. My teacher noticed and I was taken to the headmaster's office to explain how I came about the wounds. I told them it was my dad and they stared in disbelief. A teacher volunteered to call the police but another teacher told them I must have done something horrible to get that kind of beating and that they should let the matter go away. They kept asking if I was sure it was my dad who gave me those injuries. They promised to send someone to my home to get the other side of the story but never did.

I still carry some of those scars on my body after 35 years as well as the psychological scars, I grew up to hate my family so much. I remember weeping profusely when I watched the first part of the "Aluu4" murder video before they were finally killed. I was crying because I could imagine what those boys were going through. I was crying for a little boy. I was crying for me.

1stToComment: I was 7 years old. I still think I was a happy child then, even with the fact I was not my dad's favourite child and he did everything possible to show it, I was still happy. I remember clearly then when myself and my siblings all fell ill during my mum's absence. I developed symptoms before the others and was ignored until the others took ill too. They were taken to the hospital immediately and I was left at home. My little kid brother had to share his medication with me secretly to make me feel better.

The others had lovely pet names but I was named given horrible nick-names by my dad. As a little child I could not understand why I was hated so much. I remember my mum challenging my dad about it after it became unbearable for her, but there was little she could do and I was left to my fate. I did not get presents or toys from him like the others did and I guess I spent more time studying as an escape. I did brilliantly in my academics and was tops in my class. I remember once at the end of the term, how I wailed on my way home after I got my report card. I thought I was 18th best in class not knowing it was 1st as the teachers 's' seemed like an '8'. I thought my dad would kill me. I dared not give him my report card and rather gave my little brother to pass it on when he started shouting for it. I got the shock of my life! He shook my hand and that was the closest display of "affection" I ever got from him.

I got blamed by my dad for anything that went wrong so long as I was present when it happened and after a while my siblings began to have the same belief and scream my name when they hurt themselves.

The worst that ever happened to me was while I was playing close to my sister and she tripped, fell and lost four teeth. She screamed my name, just because I was present and I before I could say Robinson, my father was upon me.

It started with Punches and kicks.His only words were " I will kill you today" My poor helpless mother quickly asked what was wrong and he told her I beat my sister and broke 4 permanent teeth. I could see her turn white. I must have lost and regained conciousness about 2 times and wet myself. My poor mother quickly ran to get a cane to stop the blows, but she could not find any. Unfortunately in her hurry, she came back with a stick that was laden with thorns.

He used it until it was no more. At this time, I was no longer screaming with pain. I was too weak to cry. I could see the sadness in the eyes of my siblings and looked on to them with a little strand of hope in my eyes that they will save me. They could not and I thought I was dying.I could not move afterwards and my mum had to get me treated for multiple injuries.

A week later I was able to go to school but the wounds still looked fresh. My teacher noticed and I was taken to the headmaster's office to explain how I came about the wounds. I told them it was my dad and they stared in disbelief. A teacher volunteered to call the police but another teacher told them I must have done something horrible to get that kind of beating and that they should let the matter go away. They kept asking if I was sure it was my dad who gave me those injuries. They promised to send someone to my home to get the other side of the story but never did.

I still carry some of those scars on my body after 35 years as well as the psychological scars, I grew up to hate my family so much. I remember weeping profusely when I watched the first part of the "Aluu4" murder video before they were finally killed. I was crying because I could imagine what those boys were going through. I was crying for a little boy. I was crying for me.

Liciase: Mine was my 3rd year in uni,was attacked by robbers,beaten collected my phones,taken into 2 a rice plantation n raped.i felt terrible,worst of all it was a day 2 my birthday.

1stToComment:
The worst that ever happened to me was while I was playing close to my sister and she tripped, fell and lost four teeth. She screamed my name, just because I was present and I before I could say Robinson, my father was upon me.

It started with Punches and kicks.His only words were " I will kill you today" My poor helpless mother quickly asked what was wrong and he told her I beat my sister and broke 4 permanent teeth. I could see her turn white. I must have lost and regained conciousness about 2 times and wet myself. My poor mother quickly ran to get a cane to stop the blows, but she could not find any. Unfortunately in her hurry, she came back with a stick that was laden with thorns.

He used it until it was no more. At this time, I was no longer screaming with pain. I was too weak to cry. I could see the sadness in the eyes of my siblings and looked on to them with a little strand of hope in my eyes that they will save me. They could not and I thought I was dying.I could not move afterwards and my mum had to get me treated for multiple injuries.

A week later I was able to go to school but the wounds still looked fresh. My teacher noticed and I was taken to the headmaster's office to explain how I came about the wounds. I told them it was my dad and they stared in disbelief. A teacher volunteered to call the police but another teacher told them I must have done something horrible to get that kind of beating and that they should let the matter go away. They kept asking if I was sure it was my dad who gave me those injuries. They promised to send someone to my home to get the other side of the story but never did.

I still carry some of those scars on my body after 35 years as well as the psychological scars, I grew up to hate my family so much. I remember weeping profusely when I watched the first part of the "Aluu4" murder video before they were finally killed. I was crying because I could imagine what those boys were going through. I was crying for a little boy. I was crying for me.

Liciase: Mine was my 3rd year in uni,was attacked by robbers,beaten collected my phones,taken into 2 a rice plantation n raped.i felt terrible,worst of all it was a day 2 my birthday.

ddippset: 4 traumatic events in my life, keeping it simple and short. 1. Witnessing a road accident along kaduna abuja road in 2000.I saw bodies of people with opened up skulls and all the whitish stuff showing. 2.growing up in the northern coast of nigeria in kaduna and witnessing the sharia riots of 2000 and seeing people dismembered and others thrown into wells alive. 3 and 4. Watching clips of the aluu 4 being beaten and burnt alive and clips of boko haram soldiers slitting throats of snitches within their organisations in 2012.

nne3870: My roomate back in the university had an accident and was rushed to the hospital, the doctors refused to take her into the ward talkless of treating her on the ground that we should get a police report.we kept begging them, She was also crying and begging them due to the severe pains she was feeling. Later on her tommy started getting bigger and after 2hours she died outside the hospital, outside and it was drizzling.
Since then I hated doctors and vowed never to visit an hospital even when am sick.
Imagine refusing to treat a student just because we didn't come with a police report to state she actually had an accident.