Hi, I'm Kel

Having racked up a solid count of over seventy pieces here on Vocal, it struck me that it's high time to kick back, take stock, and shine a light on some of my own creations that might've slipped under the radar. For those in the loop, I've been spinning yarns and penning poems for a good two decades now (yeah, it does make me feel a tad ancient!), and, like any storyteller worth their salt, some of my works carry a bit more weight than others.

So, here I am, not so much for a grand retrospective but more like a casual stroll through the gallery of my own scribbles. It's not about going all deep and philosophical, but just giving a friendly nudge to those stories that could use a bit more airtime. Think of it as dusting off the shelves and rediscovering those hidden gems.

In this little jaunt down memory lane, I'm not aiming for highbrow musings; it's more about the flavours and vibes each piece brings to the table. Some of these tales are like comfy old sneakers, the ones you wear for the sheer joy of it. Others are like that quirky hat you bought on a whim – a bit eccentric, but hey, it adds character.

As I sift through the pages, I can't help but notice the varied shades in my storytelling palette. Sure, there are those stories that make you ponder life's mysteries (or at least pretend to), but there's also room for the light hearted stuff. You know, the kind that makes you grin and think, "Well, that was a fun ride."

So, what's the plan? Let's crack open the treasure chest together. I'm not promising a deep dive into the artist's tortured soul or anything; it's more of a hangout session with the words I've thrown out into the world. Maybe you'll find a chuckle, a nod of recognition, or even just a decent time-killer.

So, here's to the mishmash of stories that have seen the light of day, and to the ones waiting in the wings. It's not a grand unveiling; it's more like pulling back the curtain and saying, "Hey, check these out, they're not half bad." Grab a metaphorical seat, and let's keep it low-key as we flip through the pages of my own little literary scrapbook.

"I Hate My Face" is a raw and introspective poem that flowed from my pen on a particularly low day. Dealing with the constant challenge of cystic acne has been a lifelong battle, leaving my face marked and tender. The emotional weight tied to my physical appearance goes back to my youth when I faced relentless bullying, and the echoes of those experiences continue to reverberate, making it an ongoing struggle to embrace my own reflection.

The verses capture the essence of a personal journey, a struggle against both external judgments and internal insecurities. Cystic acne, with its physical toll, becomes a poignant metaphor for the emotional scars carried within. The poem serves as a window into the vulnerability that accompanies the ongoing challenge of accepting one's appearance when society often imposes unrealistic standards.

Each line becomes a brushstroke painting the canvas of my emotions, revealing the complexities of self-perception and the lasting impact of past wounds. The act of expressing these feelings through poetry becomes a cathartic release, a way to confront and navigate the turbulent waters of self-acceptance.

"I Hate My Face" stands not just as a poem but as a testament to the resilience required to confront the shadows of the past and the courage needed to cultivate self-love in the face of societal pressures. It's an invitation for others to empathize with the internal battles many face, recognizing that the journey towards self-acceptance is a process, often marked by both setbacks and small victories.

"Hurt Me" holds a unique and cherished spot in the chambers of my heart. It marks the genesis of my journey here on Vocal, standing proudly as my inaugural published story and, to this moment, reigns as my most read piece. The genesis of this narrative can be traced back to a tumultuous period in my life when I found myself navigating the uncharted waters of a significant life change – the abrupt end of a long-term relationship.

Penned during a time of emotional turbulence, "Hurt Me" became more than just a story; it was a cathartic expression, a means to make sense of the swirling emotions that accompanied newfound solitude. As the ink dried on the pages, it mirrored the inkling of a fresh chapter in my life, one that unfolded unexpectedly and left me standing alone for the first time in years.

The warmth and welcome I received from the Vocal community in response to "Hurt Me" served as a balm for the wounds of heartache. The engagement and connection with readers became a comforting reminder that, even in the vast expanse of the digital realm, there exists a genuine camaraderie and understanding.

Fast forward three years, and I'm still an active member of this vibrant community, a testament to the bonds forged through shared stories and mutual understanding. The reception of "Hurt Me" not only fuelled my commitment to storytelling but also became a catalyst for a broader exploration of themes, emotions, and experiences.

Reflecting on this journey, I can't help but express gratitude for the encouragement, feedback, and camaraderie that has defined my experience on Vocal. Each read, comment, and connection has been a stepping stone, shaping my identity as a storyteller and anchoring me in this creative haven.

In the ever-evolving tapestry of life, "Hurt Me" remains a pivotal thread, weaving its significance into the broader narrative of my time here on Vocal. As I continue to share my stories and engage with this wonderful community, I carry with me the lessons learned from that first step into vulnerability and the reassuring embrace of fellow writers and readers alike. Here's to the past, present, and future tales waiting to be told.

"I Will Come, Eventually" is a short horror story that occupies a unique place in my heart, a narrative that stirs a mixture of emotions within me. This tale holds the distinction of being my first to receive the coveted "Top Story" award, a recognition that I am both genuinely grateful for and proud of, marking a significant milestone in my writing journey.

The genesis of this chilling tale stems from a bittersweet well of inspiration—my father. A man who, for a prolonged period, battled chronic illness, finding solace and shared joy in our mutual love for horror films. As I set out to craft this story, it was born from the contemplation of what might transpire when he eventually departed this world. Initially conceived as a narrative with comforting undertones, the story took an unexpected turn toward darkness, mirroring the complexity of emotions that often accompany such themes.

Despite the narrative taking a darker trajectory, my father found solace in the tale. His smile, broad and enduring, became a cherished memory, etched in the weeks following my revelation of the story's reception. It became a shared source of pride, weaving a connection between the realms of imagination and reality, transcending the conventional boundaries that separate fiction from the deeply personal.

As I navigate the ambivalence tied to this story, it becomes a testament to the multifaceted nature of storytelling. It is a reminder that narratives, born from personal experiences and emotions, can elicit a spectrum of feelings—both unsettling and comforting. The recognition it received stands as a nod not just to my storytelling abilities but also to the power stories have in resonating with others, even in the realm of horror.

"I Will Come, Eventually" encapsulates the intricate dance between inspiration, creation, and the profound impact stories can have on both the writer and the audience. It's a celebration of the shared love for the macabre, a tribute to my father's enduring spirit, and a marker of the indelible connection between the real and the imaginary. As I continue to explore the vast landscape of storytelling, this tale remains a poignant reminder of the threads that bind the personal and the creative, shaping my journey as a writer.

"My Eyes" is a poem that holds a myriad of sentiments and reflections for me. If you were to ask anyone familiar with me about their favorite aspect, they would unanimously point to my eyes. The inspiration for this particular piece can be traced back to a seemingly routine moment when I found myself filling out an organ donor form. What caught my attention was the inquiry about eyes.

As an eclectic pagan, my spirituality intertwines with a belief that eyes serve as the true windows to the soul, encapsulating the essence of what they have witnessed throughout one's journey. Contemplating the significance of this question, I grappled with the decision of parting with my eyes, symbolic repositories of the stories etched into my being.

While the form may have prompted the possibility of donating my eyes, the profundity embedded in their symbolism led me to a different decision. In the realm of my beliefs, my eyes carry a narrative, a unique chronicle of my experiences, emotions, and the kaleidoscope of life's moments. It became apparent that, for me, the decision to retain my eyes was more than a matter of physicality; it was a choice rooted in the preservation of the spiritual and emotional imprints they bore.

"My Eyes" emerged as my artistic response to this internal dialogue. It became a canvas where I could articulate the profound connection I felt with this integral part of my identity. The poem is a lyrical expression of my decision to carry the essence of my life's journey with me, even beyond the confines of mortality.

In the tapestry of my beliefs, this poem serves as a testament to the sacred nature I ascribe to the eyes—a repository of the soul's history. It is a reflection not only of my spiritual convictions but also a declaration of the deeply personal choices we make when confronted with life's inevitable transitions.

As I share this piece with the world, it's not just a poetic expression; it's a glimpse into the intersection of belief, identity, and the profound connection we forge with the facets of our own existence. "My Eyes" becomes a resonant chord in the symphony of self-expression, encapsulating the richness that lies within the windows to my soul.