once upon a time in 1991

prior to deep muziq. meet adam bin mohammad. yes. remember the abused child story? well, no i wont dwell further here.

i was just stoning and was trying hard to recall how i was brought up. then i realised something. years before i was being treated like an everlasting punching bag by my old man, i was raised by strangers and relatives. i was raised by selfish baboons.

first and foremost, i was raised by my grandparents. but what i wasnt aware was that my dad and them had friction. i didnt last long with them and i dont recall much anyway.

next, i was raised by a random stranger who lived 2 blocks away. i dont remember much. but all i remembered was that they enjoyed hearing me sing. i dont know why my dad transfer nannyship rights though.


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now this is the most crucial part.
i was shifted to my aunt. now, there was more friction rubbing in. look, she has 5 kids. she didnt really treat me well. and i hated her kids. my dad provided her monthly allowance for taking care of me and even provided my fair share of diapers and formulas. but she abused that and used it for her own lil tykes and bastards.this is the most important turning point in my life. i was between 2-3 years old but i can remember all the landmarks in this stage of my life.


lactose intolerance
first and foremost, i drank milk for a very short moment in my life. like for 1 year only. but my aunt or something introduced me to a new version of milk formula from JB. i drank and i remember hating it. puking and couldnt poop. now that is bad for a kid. but somehow, thats where my intolerance towards milk developed.


me and calculators.
i was 3. the eldest cousin of mine who was in like primary 6 asked me."how do you spell calculator?"i actually know how to spell it. but i didnt have the confidence to speak out loud. so i mumbled c-a-l-c-u-but i was cut short. she interrupted me and gave me my punishment for not spelling it right.hey, i was 3 and i can spell it ok!the punishment was isolation at the corner solo armchair.no one was supposed to talk to me and i cannot leave that spot.now imagine going through that everyday. i cried badly. and yes, im a crybaby but none of my relative cared.even when i pooped there. with faeces in my diaper for at least 5hours. my dad was furious


me and hating girls.
there was this random darlie commercial where 2 happy white-teethed couple run around the fields, hugging and being happy.but this 3rd oldest cousin of mine will keep running after me and try to kiss me on the lips. it happens all the time. and yes, i will cry. but my aunt will just watch and laugh. that was how i hated curly haired girls. and girls in general. i didnt like the idea of being chased and kissed. not her. i dont like being kissed all over and getting rubbed and stroked everywhere. and no! i dont wanna play "husband and wife" with you. im not your husband. you made me run everywhere around the house. avoiding your wet slimy kisses. YUCK! and you shouldnt rub me and outrage my modesty. NO! you were not allowed to touch and stroke it. NO! i didnt like being alone with you. dont put your hands under my clothes. one word. FARQUE YOU. im as ever disturbed from all this. well.... what happens should stay in your imaginations, im not gonna type further.

i dont wanna makeout with you at the age of 3. no rubbing! bloody hell.
arrrrghhhh. you horny nymphet! you got me twisted.
other guys might enjoy it, but i think you affected my orientation. i wanna partly blame you. wait! i dont even remeber your name!

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so nannyship rights transferred to another neighbour.
this one was boring.really. like really boring. just that i liked the company of her daughter. she was like an elder sister i never had. getting kisses from her was fine. she was the early prototype of the kinda girls im into i guess. no curly haired please!



its no wonder why my dad dotes on hammy dee more than me.
he raised her while i was raised by random idiots who spoilt my life.

and. dont put your child in daycare and making them live alone to fend for themselves. i was too young for that. crying was ever to common for me. still am. im never too shy to let the waterworks flow. like thanks ar