A Message to Gentler Boys


When I was a little boy I never played like other boys, I hated cricket and football but pretended to like it to not get beat up and picked on. From that time I knew that I was different. I couldn’t climb trees, I still can’t. I couldn’t ride a bicycle until one of my closest friends taught me at age 18. I was probably the only one in my little crew who was frightened of dogs but still pelted stones at them because all the other guys enjoyed it.

I was undoubtedly a gentler soul among untamed and immature wolves. I grew up wanting to be like them and now I don’t. None of them turned out to be good law abiding citizens and one I know is dead. Another I think, survives off his family’s “fortunes” and the rest no longer live in jamrock. None of us are friends anymore.

My father and step mother were very protective of me, not to mention my grandma. Always forcing me to study, learn new words and sending me to go read. I hated that baby treatment and wanted to mount trees I couldn’t climb, to scale fences that for me were too high, to kick balls that would never go straight and to chase dogs of which I was afraid. Somehow I blamed them, that I was a gentler soul, if only I had more time with the other boys.
I was often kept inside, for my own protection, now I know why. Kept away from the boys who tortured me, because I just couldnt get enough. I was young and unwise. I grew up hating myself for not being more like one of them and not wanting the things they wanted and saying the things they said. I grew up in fear of being tortured, as I often times was, taunted and geered for standing out too much. We were all young then, so I no longer hold a grudge.
I felt peer pressure at such a young age, didnt even know what it was. somehow my circumstances kept me gentle, because if I was allowed to hang around them too much probably I wouldnt be in a job but on the street side puffing smoke whilst begging a dime. With maybe three children and baby mamas with ugly wigs; or maybe in my grave or sending post cards from jail.
Some people aren’t so lucky and so they yield that part of them that’s real and take onto themselves a LIE. They live thier life in pretense trying to not be noticed as gentler and as time passes they lose their sweet gentle nature and become the LIE. Being gentle does not make you weaker. It in fact sets you up to be stronger. So what if you like baking, dancing and singing, who cares if you are not the biggest fan of football or rugby, Remain gentle, I am happy I did.


From Nico’s Eyes


  1. Jesse-Jordan Marshall July 15, 2016
  2. Jerone July 15, 2016
    • nicoseyes July 15, 2016
  3. JPC April 15, 2017
  4. Ron Mac June 19, 2019

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