Shariah Davis
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Bind in My Mind

No, my life isn’t perfect.

Bind in My Mind

No. No, my life isn’t perfect. This smile could crack into a million stories if it had enough fire to melt the steel lips that are just too heavy to open. In fact, these next few lines will probably enforce the cliche lines we have all heard on repeat throughout our childhood, like that same song everyone has heard for themselves that plays on the local radio at 3:00 PM... “don’t judge a book by its cover.” Unfortunately, I stand to say that this very line is not cliche. I’m in a bind. But not physically, not really financially, but mentally. I’m in a bind in my mind. 

For twenty years, I was sheltered. I was taught to keep everything to myself, I was taught not to express myself and now I’m dealing with the consequences of lacking communication with others. I was told not to cry as it was weak to the people I grew up with that are called family, so I’m dealing with the consequences of bottling up my emotions. I was called every name in the book, and no, I won’t mention it all just yet. Not here, not now. This is just a start. This is just a start of not only being an artist but connecting with others to let them know that I am also human. I don’t just sing, I don’t just go to school, I don’t just hang out with my friends on the weekends or even look for parties. This is just a start of me showing vocals. Vocals that are deeper than a melody. Vocals that were in a bind in my mind. 

It all started at birth, where most childhood battles began. Out of a broken home. Out of a home of domestic violence and a home where both parents knew nothing but toxicity as it was their environment. A home where your typical African American father was imprisoned and a convicted felon. A home where your mother was living on section 8 and living off of government welfare. That was home for me. As a young child, you aren’t too aware of these conditions. I can honestly say I wish I was still a child at times. At least I couldn’t understand the smothering and the fighting and the struggle that my mother endured as wrong. At least I hardly knew what stress was. I know the sad part was that as a child, the life I was living was becoming normalized. I know, I know. I’m taking forever to get into the details but I will. There’s much more than my family that is a part of this. But they are definitely the biggest part that I am recovering from. It’s easier when the hurt comes from a stranger. However, when it’s from your own blood it’s a feeling deeper than pain that you have to heal from. This is something that has the ability to damage you for a lifetime. These are people that have the ability to change you for a lifetime. For better, for worse, or maybe even for both. I know there are many people who have a similar story and who may even have a more disgusting story to share about the people who are supposed to be your guidance into life. The people who are supposed to applaud you for wanting independence... and not tear you down to keep you from doing so. Hopefully this story will encourage more of you to open up and vocalize your battles. Time to release the bind in our minds. Time to release the bind in my mind.  

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