A flashback to the past, a remberance of what formed my personality as a child, a detailed account of my imperfect indifference.
I grew up on a council estate in London. I was my mother’s first child – she was only 16 when I was born except she realised I was advanced in my development. I could read at the age of three, I had difficulties with social interaction and comprehension and would often daydream to the point nursery teachers assumed I had epilepsy. This came back clear. This was when I knew I was a borderline. I didn’t have any intense anger growing up – I was more paranoid of others hidden motives. I would be avoidant and apprehensive and constantly be hyper vigilant for any dangers or threats. Mental health say mental health conditions can’t affect toddlers – the reality is yes they can. I decided to choose education and writing as my strength. I loved writing, drama, history and would often write poems or listen to music to help me cope with what life threw at me. I was often comfortable with only a few friends that understood me and I could come across as selfish when I wanted to be isolated but that was just me. I loved the outdoors and my local playscheme and my Pokemon cards: I remember my neighbours, I remember the perfect moments of living in Edgware and what I miss about the estate is it has been knocked down and reconstructed – effortlessly mordernised to fit in with updated society norms: how times have changed, how beautiful the new architecture is but at a new costly price.