Beneath the covers, tears rolled silently down the sides of my eyes. I could feel their path obstructed as they began forming a puddle inside my ears. My chin trembled with the force of my fear, my nose clogged and inflamed, beads of sweat formed over my temple as the temperature rose inside the cacoon I had voluntarily imprisoned myself in.
Still, I made no move. I made no sound.
Because I could still feel his eyes watching me from the corner.
At 16 years old, I found myself lugging two heavy suitcases in each hand, struggling to roll them down the uneven pavement, tears stinging my eyes threatning to fall, but I refused to let myself be seen crying in public.
I knew they were staring as I walked away, probably waiting for me to turn around at some point.
But I never did.
If I looked back now, I knew I would no longer be able to control my tears. If I looked back now, I knew that my already clenched heart would not survive a reawakening of the image of their tearful faces as I said goodbye.
If I looked back now, I knew that it would only make it that much harder to leave.
That was the day I learned to never look back.
For the next year, I lived with my sister in Birmingham, the second-largest city of the United Kingdom and the heart of the West Midlands.
It's remarkable the difference one year can make in your life.
This was the year that I not only began to truly appreciate the hardships that awaited me when I eventually entered adulthood, but itwas a year that would actually bring me closer to my Angolan heritage.
I was able to experience an entirely new manner of living and it surprised in an extremely positive way. In fact, it appealed to this foreign, underlying feeling that we describe as "saudade" in the Portuguese language.
"Saudade" is a very powerful word in the Portuguese language. It is one simple word that evokes so many emotions. There is no actual word for in the English dictionary that is able to accommodate the true sentiment of this word.
The best translation I have found described it in the following manner:
"Saudade is a word for a sad state of intense longing for someone or something that is absent. Saudade comes from the Portuguese culture...described as a kind of melancholy yearning."
- Source: (www.dictionary.com)
And this is the exact feeling that was awakened in me for the first time in my life when I thought of Angola, a country I had left at the age of 3 and had absolutely no memory of.
This was the year of many experiences, including my first time going to college and working my first job. My first time quitting a job (after only 1 month!). My first and only time, thankfully, starting and leaving 5 jobs in one year. I was only 16 and held no notion of responsibility.
I did the most menial jobs you could think of. From working in a hotel to fundraising door-to-door, selling insurance on icy streets, and even selling burgers in the Aston Villa Football Stadium.
I quit college after only 3 months. I received my first paycheck. I fell in love with opera.
It was the first time I had true responsibility.
It shaped my life and the person I would later become. I would not be who I am today had I remained in London.
But the thing that has stuck with me above all to this day?
It was the year I had my first real hallucination.
At the time, I did not even consider that what I was experiencing was a hallucination brought on by narcolepsy symptoms.
I truly believed that what I was encountering was a very real, very malignant entity.
I remember the experience so vividly. Every single action that brought me to that moment. Every single step in the escalation of my fear.
At the time, we shared an apartment with 3 other people. These were all friends of my sister and all over the age of 18. I was the only underage person there. The baby who couldn't party with the grown-ups.
So one day, they organized a night-out together in Broad Street, the place where everything happened.
Although I did feel slightly dismayed with being left behind on my own while they had fun without me, I tried to console myself with the fact that I was actually going to be fully alone at home for the first time ever.
So I relaxed back on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn on my lap and settled in to watch my latest obsession at the time, the infamous Antonio Banderas movie, "Desperado."
The night ran smoothly with no incident. I had never had any issues with being in my own company, and that night was no different.
Even when all lights suddenly went out and I was left in pitch dark, I was not alarmed in any way.
I picked up the phone and rang my sister. We spoke for a while as I explained the situation to her and asked for her advice on what I should in regards to the electricity.
However, she quickly informed that there was nothing I could do.
At the time, the building we lived in had a strange top-up system that did not work with a card or monthly billing. The only way to recharge was to insert one-pound coins in the machine that was located by the entrance of the small, two-floor building.
As you can probably already guess, I had none on me, or anywhere in the house.
Still, I remained calm and as we had a gas cooker at the time, made my way in the dark to boil some water and make myself a cup of tea before I resignated myself to bed, as there was nothing else to do at this time.
I made my tea calmly and entirely unaware of the terrifying night that lay before me.
As soon as my tea was ready, I picked up my large "I Love Tea" mug and began to make my way towards the bedroom, located on the other side of the apartment.
From the moment I turned my back to the kitchen, I felt a cold shiver run from the base of my neck, all the way down my spine.
I don't know if this has ever happened to you, but have you ever experienced someone standing right behind you so closely that you can physically feel the heat radiating off their body? And if they are standing even closer, you can literally feel their breath on your neck?
That's exactly what I could feel in that very moment as I walked away from the kitchen and into the living room.
I felt myself stiffen but my feet continue to carry me forward, one foot after the other, as though they instinctively knew of the urgency to carry me as far away from this foreign presence shadowing my steps.
There's something about being in total darkness, and feeling something behind you, radiating dark and sinister energy that you know is aimed at no one else but you.
I felt the smallest sense of relief as I reached my bedroom, ever-so-gently placing my tea on the bedside table and then hurriedly crawling into bed and fixing my covers over myself so that there was not a single point of entry beneath my head or shoulders.
He had followed me in.
Do not ask me how I knew it was a "he" or how I knew exactly where he had positioned himself in the room...I just felt it so strongly as if there was an actual physical being present in the far left corner by the door.
Beneath my covers, tears rolled silently down the side of my eyes. I could feel their path obstructed as they began forming a puddle inside my ears. My chin trembled with the force of my fear, my nose clogged and inflamed, beads of sweat formed over my temple as the temperature rose inside the cacoon I had voluntarily imprisoned myself in.
Still, I made no move. I made no sound.
Because I could still feel his eyes watching me from the corner.
He made no attempt to move or come closer, but I felt as though he was waiting. He was waiting for me to look at him.
But I refused.
No matter what, I would not look at him. I would not give him the satisfaction.
Because I had no idea what would happen if I did, I just knew it wouldn't be good.
I have no idea how long I lay there. How long our silent battle continued. How I managed to maintain my defiance.
Because it seemed as though after a long while, he grew impatient.
He inched closer.
His unspoken threat, ringed loud and clear in my ears.
You can't fight me for long. I can get to you either way.
The closer he got, the more horror-stricken I became.
At 16 years old, I had never encountered a "life-threatening" situation such as this one. I say "life-threatening" because at the time that's exactly how it felt.
I thought I was going to die.
And as most of us do in these situations, whether we believe or not, I began to pray to God.
It was the only thing I could think of to do at the time. I felt absolutely powerless and alone. I had to feel as though there was a higher force who was much bigger than myself and this creature that had forced its presence into my life.
To this day, I am not religious. Although I believe in a higher power, whether that be God or some other entity entirely, I do not believe in religion. I respect all those who do and have friends from all different backgrounds, but it's my own personal decision.
However, all I know is, that on this particular night, my prayers were answered.
And the dark creature evetually dissipated from my room and has never been back again.
Although I have had other, just as frightening (if not more) encounters with the supposed "paranormal", which in reality is really just a conjuring of my brain's unique functioning...I can truthfully say that what I have designated as "the darkness" has never once returned.
And for that, I am thankful. Whether it really was just a conjuring of my mind or a true manifestation of beings that are not within our understanding, I am grateful.
I don't think I ever shared this with my sister at the time or anyone else for that matter.
Firstly, I didn't want to scare my sister since she lived there too and I didn't want anyone else to think I was crazy.
You see, as a 16-year-old who is still struggling with their own identity and doing everything to be accepted, living these extremely bizarre episodes is not really something that you want to share with the world. With anyone really. It's hard enough to deal with the normal adolescent pressures around you, that this is something you feel you have to face on your own.
As I said in the beginning, this year away taught me many things.
If I'm being honest, I feel that this particular experience taught me more than anything else that year.
It was this moment that taught me to stand on my own two feet. It taught me to experience pain and keep it to myself. It taught me there are just some things that nobody else will ever understand and that "cross" is one you must bear alone.
To this day, my friends still tease me about the way I left that sunny afternoon and tell me that they really were waiting for me to turn around and were shocked when I didn't.
But I now understand that life was preparing me for the first of many goodbyes.
In my entire lifetime, I have moved about 11 times (that I consider truly moving) and every single one of these times I have had to leave somethings and many someones behind.
It doesn't get easier.
But I will tell you that I have met some of the most amazing people in the world.
I made more true friendships than I can count.
And I was loved way more than I deserved.
So I leave you with this:
Embrace even the most terrifying moments of your life, because they are simply shaping you for some of the best.
Guys I am honestly so sorry about the amount of time I have taken to post this time but in my defense(!) between moving countries (yes, again!), volunteering, looking for jobs, attendings weddings, house hunting....you get it right??
Pinky swear I will try to never take this long again!
Thank you so much for bearing with me and continuing to follow my story!