Tosh Ford

An intimate collection of writing

Tosh Ford

Life Experiences Through Words

Read my stories
A world of words

Every story begins somewhere.

A place for the beautiful, the painful, the unspoken, and everything in between. These are life experiences told through words.

The collection

Stories by Tosh Ford

Original writing, each story paired with imagery that reflects its emotion.

Dark child's bedroom seen from bed level, with a looming shadow in the doorway
Story 01 · Fear & survival

The Monster in My Room

In the dark, I know the fan is moving only because I can feel the wind against my body. I wish that were the only sound I heard at night…

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A spotted wild cat hiding low in tall grass beside a misty city road
Story 02 · Identity & vulnerability

Trying to Hide

As I move through the world at a restless pace, I wonder why people stop and stare. I keep hiding, but danger keeps pace with me…

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A shattered crimson heart on a moonlit shoreline beside a sand dollar and a hooked fish
Story 03 · Love & longing

Have You Ever Been Loved?

Has anyone ever truly loved me, or have I only been speaking to silence? Have I convinced myself that I was loved when I was not?…

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A solitary child curled beside the wall of a shadowed stone passage, with soft light falling from above and a sunlit path beyond
Story 04 · Loneliness & belonging

I Sit Alone

I sit alone on the street. I sit alone in my life, just as I did when I was one…

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From beneath a spreading tree, a solitary person walks out of shadow toward the sunlit meadow and a winding trail
Story 05 · Hope & becoming

Leaves in the Wind

The leaves stir in the wind. I hear them brushing against one another—some green, some brown. They drift slowly toward the ground, where the sunlight casts their shadows…

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Underwater view beside a swimmer and a group of dolphins, with golden light filtering through the ocean surface
Story 06 · Belonging & sanctuary

Sea of Dolphins

I always wondered whether you were there for me, somewhere in a sea that seemed to hold nothing but dolphins…

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Two men sharing a tender sunset embrace beside a lake, surrounded by flowers and lantern light
Story 07 · Love & devotion

Day I Met You

The day I met you, I knew you were the one. We loved—oh, how we loved. You became the missing part of my heart…

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A crimson rose blooming from rain-soaked earth against the light of a new sunrise
Story 08 · Survival & renewal

Rising From the Dirt

I feel as though I am covered in dirt, unable to breathe. The very soil that should help me grow has become what keeps me from blooming…

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A solitary figure beside a rusted cage looking toward a winding, sunlit path
Story 09 · Memory & confinement

The Path I Was Supposed to Take

I keep trying to understand the path I was supposed to take. I see the trails others have walked before me…

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A lone child by a shadowed doorway, a teddy bear nearby, gazing toward a sunlit path
Story 10 · Boundaries & survival

Please Let Me Go

I am still here, despite all the tragic moments of my young life. I want to live without fear…

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A solitary young man sitting in the grass beside a utility pole at dusk, with a worn house behind him and a road leading away
Story 11 · Identity & survival

I Am Me

My life feels dirty, and the dirt keeps climbing over me as I push against it, carrying the weight of what has touched me…

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A frightened youth hiding inside a cabinet in a dark hallway while a wolf-like shadow stretches across the wall
Story 12 · Fear & hiding

Please Help

As I sit inside my own life, I realize how little safety I have ever felt. I hide from the wolf that hunts me through the house…

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Empty childhood bedroom at night, with a teddy bear on the bed, cool moonlight through the window, and warm light through the open door
Story 13 · Childhood & survival

The Warmth That Wasn’t Love

I feel cold, but I always know he will come to make me warm. He told me he owned me…

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A moonlit frozen lake seen through a break in the ice, with a softly glowing figure beneath the water
Story 14 · Friendship & isolation

Beneath the Ice

Beyond the frozen surface, the world grows quiet. No one saved me when I slipped beneath the ice…

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A muddy ball in a puddle at sunset while the shadowy figure of an adult walks away across the grass
Story 15 · Family & longing

Look Down, I'm Right Here

I don't even know what my dad looks like anymore. How sad is that? I saw him as I grew up, but now that I'm older…

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A boy sits alone beside a deserted street at sunset, with a baseball near the curb and a warm horizon beyond
Story 16 · Childhood & love to come

The Hand I Would One Day Hold

I sit alone on the street. I sit alone in my life, just as I did when I was one…

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A teenager breaking free from iron shackles on a rocky path, leaving dark storm clouds behind and walking toward sunrise
Story 17 · Defiance & freedom

You Don't Own Me

You don’t own me. I’m only one of your many toys no longer. I walk forward through the mud and into a place that is finally free…

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Every story has its own visual world. Select a title to begin reading.

Behind the words

The stories we carry.

Some experiences are easy to share. Others live quietly within us, waiting for words.

Tosh Ford is a home for personal storytelling — reflections on love, vulnerability, memory, survival, and everything that shapes a life.

Your voice matters

Stories worth sharing.

The original Tosh Ford website welcomed reader-submitted writing. This collection may open to reader stories again in the future.

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“Every life has a story worth telling.”
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The Monster in My Room

Tosh Ford · Fear & survival

Dark child's bedroom seen from bed level, with a looming shadow in the doorway
Content advisory: Contains references to childhood sexual abuse and fear.

As I lie in the dark, I know the fan is moving only because I can feel the wind against my body. I can hear the blades cutting through the air in the room. I wish that were the only sound I heard each night when I went to bed.

Sometimes I cover my ears. Then I cover my eyes, thinking that if I cannot hear or see, maybe no one will notice me either. I try to keep my eyes open for as long as I can, fighting sleep because I am afraid that if I fall asleep, he will come into my room.

It always happens just after I surrender to sleep. I wake to the shock of a cold hand beneath my covers, a hand that turns warm against the heat of my small body. As the chill moves through me, I wish it is only another nightmare, the kind that has haunted me so many nights before.

I press my foot down as hard as I can, hoping to keep my soft blanket from being pulled away while his rough hands reach for me.

Sometimes I think I would rather be rescued by the demons from my other nightmares — the one beneath the bed, the one hiding in the closet. I know that is only a dream: to be saved by a monster less frightening than the one who opens the door, or finds me when I am in the bathtub.

At least the monsters in the dark do not cover my mouth to keep me from breathing. They do not silence me when I try to cry out to the people in my own house who never seem to hear. I would go to the closet. I would crawl beneath the bed. Anything is less terrifying than being touched by my own blood.

I can hide, but he always finds me. He always finds my beating heart, the fragile breath that is still keeping me alive.

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Trying to Hide

Tosh Ford · Identity & vulnerability

A spotted wild cat hiding low in tall grass beside a misty city road
Content advisory: Contains references to sexual exploitation, fear, and violence.

As I move through the world at a restless pace, I wonder why people stop and stare at the shape of my beauty. I keep hiding, but the bus keeps pace with my stride. No matter how quickly I move, they always seem to find my hiding place.

I sink into the tall grass, trying to disappear, but I hear the engine beside me. It rushes so close and so fast that it steals my breath. They never stop hunting the fragile thing I am.

Sometimes I surrender to the camera because I know I cannot outrun the problem of my life. I try to hide in the long grass that shelters me, but the hunters catch my scent. In the dirty corners of the city, they track me — drawn to my youth, drawn to my body, drawn to the innocence they want to claim.

They imagine me laid out perfectly for them. I understand that now. They always come for me.

I wonder whether I can slip back into the tall grass and escape before I am devoured by all of these hunters. I would rather be killed by anything else than be touched by the ugly lion.

They have watched me since I was born, only to stalk me in my small, innocent body. Maybe I should never have smelled so sweet. Maybe I should have died at birth…

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Have You Ever Been Loved?

Tosh Ford · September 1, 2015 · Love & longing

A shattered crimson heart on a moonlit shoreline beside a sand dollar and a hooked fish

Has anyone ever truly loved me, or have I only been speaking to silence? Have I convinced myself that I was loved when, in truth, I was only loving myself?

Have you ever looked into the mirror and told yourself, “You’re pretty. You’re cute. You were simply meant to be you”? And if you did, did you believe it?

Maybe I was the only one who could convince myself that I mattered. But what was I, really? I always made excuses, telling myself I was something better than nothing.

I feel alone in a world filled with people who are loved. Have you ever felt like a grain of sand in a sea of pebbles, impossible for anyone to find?

I used to wish I could become a sand dollar so the tide might wash me onto the shore and someone, anyone, might pick me up. Even if only for a moment, I would know what it feels like to be touched with care.

Maybe I was always meant to be only this: a small grain of sand mixing with the water and salt until it disappears. Sometimes I wish I were the fish caught on the hook — at least then I would be seen.

I am gasping for air because there is no more water. I am here, and yet no one sees me.

Have you ever been loved?

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I Sit Alone

Tosh Ford · August 1, 2018 · Loneliness & belonging

A solitary child beneath a shaft of light in a dark tunnel, looking toward a distant sunlit woodland path
Content advisory: Contains themes of childhood neglect and loneliness.

I sit alone on the street. I sit alone in my life, just as I did when I was one.

I have no father to toss me a ball or bring a smile to my face. A ball bounces past me, but it is not mine to catch. It lands on grass no greener than the grass on the other side.

I have no mother to stroke my hair when I cry over spilled milk, watching it run from the chair to the floor.

I lie alone in the dark, waiting for the light to appear. But it never does.

I walk along and take the hand of someone I do not know. They do not even look at me to ask, “What are you doing?” The hand is pulled away, and I am pushed to the ground.

I sit alone on the street. I am sad, but I do not cry. The tears fall anyway, though they never wet my shirt.

Still, the street is kind to me. It leads me to places lined with trees and paths that bring a smile to my face.

I do not look back at the life I never had…

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Leaves in the Wind

Tosh Ford · Hope & becoming

A solitary figure leaving the shadow of an ancient tree to follow a golden path into the sunrise

The leaves stir in the wind. I hear them brushing against one another—some green, some brown. They drift slowly toward the ground, where the sunlight casts their shadows. Beneath the leaves, drops of water glisten in the sun.

Sometimes I feel as though I am hiding beneath a leaf, where no one can see me. It is so dark under there. But I step out from underneath it because I have to keep living, even in a world weighed down by other people’s ideas of what a normal life should be.

It is the thoughts in my own mind that help me move forward and become who I am meant to be. Life is what we choose to be part of. It is the light we live in, not the shadows beneath us. It is the place we make for ourselves.

I watch the leaves fall and know that I do not have to stay trapped beneath the darkness of every fallen one. I keep moving forward through a life that can sometimes be shaded by sadness.

I am the brightest part of the sun as I walk toward the light.

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Sea of Dolphins

Tosh Ford · Belonging & sanctuary

Immersive underwater scene: a swimmer surrounded by dolphins beneath golden sunlight

I always wondered whether you were there for me, somewhere in a sea that seemed to hold nothing but dolphins. They swim beneath me, lifting me toward the surface because somehow they know I need to breathe.

As they carry me across the water, I see all the things in the world that have made me feel unlikable. I look through the water and see myself drowning in an ocean that seems endless. Yet somehow, I know I have found another world.

I try to swim to the surface, only to discover that I can breathe underwater. I never imagined I could belong to a place filled with so much love.

“Todd, hear me. Come into the water. Breathe beneath the surface and trust me. You don’t have to hold your breath. You can be with me here, in this new world. In the water, you will find the breath you need to live.”

We once dove beneath the waves believing we would have to rise again for air. Instead, we are breathing underwater. There is something beautiful about the dolphins holding us beneath the surface, as if they know they can give us a place of our own beneath the sea.

They want us in this amazing world—the world I want us to live in. Away from everything. Away from all the bad people.

My best world is here. No hurt. No unwanted touch. No more hitting…

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Day I Met You

Tosh Ford · January 28, 2016 · Love & devotion

Two men sharing a tender sunset embrace beside a lake, surrounded by flowers and lantern light

The day I met you, I knew you were the one. We loved—oh, how we loved. You became the missing part of my heart, the part I had been searching for without even knowing it. You were exactly what I needed in my life.

I used to dream of a man who could place a perfect smile on my face. I wondered whether you could ever love me enough, and you did. Because of you, I became a better man.

The first time you cried with me, I melted. In that moment, I knew you cared. The touch of your skin still makes me wish I could reach for you again.

I know now that you are both the beginning and the last day of my life. I love you. I love you.

From the day I met you, I knew you were the one. Do you remember our first kiss? It changed my life. The world around us disappeared, and everything felt effortless and free.

You are my foundation. You are my bed of feathers. You are the love of my lifetime. I miss you every day…

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Rising From the Dirt

Tosh Ford · March 3, 2016 · Survival & renewal

A red rose breaks through dark, wet earth into the golden light of morning

I feel as though I am covered in dirt, unable to breathe. I am like a flower deprived of the earth, the water, and the sun. The very soil that should help me grow has become the dirt that keeps me from blooming.

I am buried in the darkness of my life, so lost within it that I cannot scream. I reach for the surface and claw at the ground above me. My fingernails begin to bleed as I dig through the dirt. Each time I struggle upward, I wonder whether another shovelful will bury me deeper.

When I finally draw a breath, I realize that the person I loved is the one who has covered me with dirt. I stop breathing again and pretend to be dead. In that cold hole, I cling to the hope that I might survive.

I hold my breath until I hear his footsteps crossing the ground above my grave. He believes my lifeless body lies beneath him. Then the footsteps fade, and I hear nothing at all.

I claw my way through the dry earth until I reach the surface. At last, I breathe fresh air. The dirt falls from my body as I rise from what was supposed to be my grave.

I run, realizing that I am alive, even as I try to escape the dark shadows that have followed me all my life. This dream has kept me beneath its spell, but perhaps I have been born again from the very dirt that buried me.

I am alive. I am good. The sun and the water have made me the most beautiful flower…

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The Path I Was Supposed to Take

Tosh Ford · Working title · Memory & confinement

A solitary figure beside a rusted cage looking toward a winding, sunlit path
Content advisory: Contains references to childhood trauma and abuse.

I keep trying to understand the path I was supposed to take. I see the trails others have walked before me, and I wonder whether I should follow one of them or step around the mud that has made the way almost impossible to cross.

As I stumble through the moments of my life, I try to avoid the quicksand that pulls at my feet and holds me still. I realize I have been trapped, drowning in a pool of my past, surrounded by sand that will not let me move.

I am still in that pool, still caught in the ways I have learned to drown. Somehow, it is where I breathe. I know I came to this place, but I did not know how to leave. I did not understand that what you called love could become a place of despair and confusion.

Do you remember our special moments as father and son? I do. I remember them before you touched me, before the moon gave way to the sun.

The covers keep my body warm, yet something cold reaches through them. I feel separated from myself, imprisoned in a place I never chose.

I know I am allowed to be only one thing inside my cage: perfect. And you are the one who holds the key. There are no copies…

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Please Let Me Go

Tosh Ford · Provisional title · Boundaries & survival

A lone child by a shadowed doorway, a teddy bear nearby, gazing toward a sunlit path
Content advisory: Contains references to childhood sexual abuse.

I know now that the sadness of my life comes long after the happiness. Somehow, I am still here, despite all the tragic moments of my young life.

I am here to live without being touched by someone who takes me away for his own pleasure. I know what they want from me: the innocence of a body that belongs only to me.

“You are not allowed to touch,” I am told. Then why do you ask me not to tell?

I trusted you. You took advantage of that trust, acting as though I were yours to take. But I am here to live and to become myself. I only want to see life and experience it as it comes.

How can you tell me that what happened was okay? How was I supposed to understand that your hugs, the ones that squeezed too tightly, were love?

I understand now that my body was saying no. You always insisted everything was okay, even when your touch caused me pain.

No. I will not touch it. Please, let me go…

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I Am Me

Tosh Ford · Working title · Identity & survival

A solitary young man sitting in the grass beside a utility pole at dusk, with a worn house behind him and a road leading away
Content advisory: Contains references to abuse and physical violence.

My life feels dirty, and the dirt keeps climbing over me as I push against it. I feel the mess that covers me in the moments that keep me pinned down in the world I have lived in.

I have known the one who seemed to hold my existence in his hands. I feel the tremors beneath the room that became my fear—the strange sounds that come from the closet, or maybe the wall, or even the floor. They call out and come only for me.

Now I sit in silence. Please stop trying to reach me. I know now that I am finished with your touch, with your empty version of a moment.

When I am struck across the side of my face, I sit in the grass beside the only pole in sight. In that place, I realize I am just me—nothing more than a body on a street where people keep walking.

I move when he comes for me, as he always does. You know him.

Do not ask me not to be who I am. You do not win. I am still myself, even if I come from a place no one wants to know.

I am me, as I have always been…

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Please Help

Tosh Ford · Working title · Fear & hiding

A frightened youth hiding inside a cabinet in a dark hallway while a wolf-like shadow stretches across the wall
Content advisory: Contains references to childhood sexual abuse and violence.

As I sit inside my own life, I realize how little I have ever felt worth. For so long, I believed I was nothing more than a body to be used. I wished on a star that could lift me across the sky and carry me somewhere beyond all of this.

Am I different for wanting a place beneath the clouds? Maybe I am the sky, and the stars only return so I can remember that I still exist.

I was always the one who was preyed upon. Maybe, I thought, it was because something about me invited hunger. I hid in my own house, trying not to be found by the wolf that hunted me. I would run down the hallway past the pictures of my life, only to trap myself beneath the cabinet where I hid without breathing. I held the door shut while trembling, hoping that this time I would not be found.

But when the door opened, I already knew what would happen. Why do I always hide in the same place? Sometimes I wonder if that means I wanted it, if there is something wrong with me. When he pushes me against the wall and smothers my mouth with his big hand so I cannot be heard, I hate the silence he forces on me. I hate the feeling of being pressed down, of being made unable to speak.

My mouth feels sewn shut, but I want to yell. I want to tell. Why do I not tell? Why am I always in the place where he finds me? Sometimes I wonder if I am asking for it, even though I know I am not.

How do you find a safe hiding place? Please help. No—I need you to call for me. Dial.

I open my eyes, and it is my father.  FUCK OFF.

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The Warmth That Wasn’t Love

Tosh Ford · Working title · Childhood & survival

An empty childhood bedroom at night, with cold blue moonlight across a displaced blanket and a warm glow beyond the open doorway
Content advisory: Contains a first-person account of childhood sexual abuse and violence.

I feel cold, but I always know he will come to make me warm. He told me he owned me. He kept me cold, only to offer warmth when he wanted to take something from my small body. I tried to believe that warmth meant comfort, but his hands were never the kind of warmth a child needs to feel safe enough to sleep.

Sometimes his hands felt warm against me, even though I never wanted what followed. He removed my clothes carefully, making sure nothing would be torn or leave a sign that someone might notice. He knew everyone else was asleep when he slipped into my room. He believed no one would ever know.

I reached for the blanket he had pulled away, screaming without a sound. I was cold. For a moment, his hands made me feel warm, but I never wanted what he did to me. I did not sleep. He raped me, and the pain was so great that my eyes widened and tears came, but I could not make a noise.

I screamed in silence. I smiled sometimes because I thought he might believe it was what I wanted. I was afraid that if I resisted, he would beat me or even kill me. I held still, wishing I could ask him to stop. But my voice stayed trapped inside me.

The only warmth I could truly feel was my own tears running down my cheeks. I wanted to beg him not to hurt me any more, yet I said nothing. Silence was the only thing I knew how to give him.

After a while, I thought being cold might hurt less. When you feel cold enough, it is almost like being dead. I wondered whether it was only me. Maybe I had been chosen. Maybe I was the one people would feel sorry for—the one they would turn away from because they could not bear to see.

No one seemed to know. No one seemed to see me. To him, I was something he could claim again and again, and each time he hurt me.

I’m only five. Is there anyone there…?

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Beneath the Ice

Tosh Ford · Provisional title · Friendship & isolation

A moonlit frozen lake seen through a break in the ice, with a softly glowing figure beneath the water
Content advisory: Contains themes of abandonment and imagery of falling through ice.

Yes… I see the lights shining through the midnight sun, though nothing is as clear as I want it to be. I see things coming toward me, and I want to hide where even the moon casts no shadow.

I know I am here because my mother brought me into this life. I am still a person searching for reasons, trying to understand everything that has brought me to this place.

Why haven't you come to the place where I can know that we are still friends, together in the world we once shared? Are you finished with my smile? Are you finished with the touch of a good friend?

I still walk along the path across the frozen water—the very ice I fell through. No one saved me. They let me slip beneath the surface.

Now I am under the ice, but somehow, I can breathe. Maybe this is the world I was meant to find. Walk as you are. I am still here, living in another world, the one I always wanted to be in. It is a place where everything slows down, even our thoughts.

I stay here because I want to be free of judgment.

If you want me, cut through the ice and find my soul. It is still warm…

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Look Down, I'm Right Here

Tosh Ford · Provisional title · Family & longing

A muddy ball in a puddle at sunset while the shadowy figure of an adult walks away across the grass
Content advisory: Contains themes of parental absence and childhood emotional neglect.

I don't even know what my dad looks like anymore. How sad is that? I saw him as I grew up, but now that I'm older, I wish I could see him clearly. It makes me cry to realize I've lost sight of him.

Have I pushed him out of my mind? Or have I finally accepted that he's gone? Was he already gone when I needed him most? Did he ever need me?

Today, I threw a ball to my dad. For a moment, I thought I saw him catch it, and I smiled. But the ball only fell to the ground. It bounced across the dry, unwatered grass and rolled into a muddy puddle.

I used to see him in my dreams. Then I would blink, and he would become nothing more than a memory. I used to dream and smile, only to wake up and realize I was living in a nightmare made of hope. Now even happiness sometimes feels like a dream I can't hold on to.

I wish I could have a waking dream in which my dad is really there for me. My friends have dads. I had one, too. So why did he never pay attention to me?

Hi, my name is Todd. You're my dad. I'm right here. No, look down. I'm really short. I'm just a kid. I'm your son.

I pulled on his pant leg, but he never looked down.

I wish I knew what he looked like. He walked right over me as though I were nothing more than a muddy puddle of water…

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The Hand I Would One Day Hold

Tosh Ford · Working title · Childhood & love to come

A boy sits alone beside a deserted street at sunset, with a baseball near the curb and a warm horizon beyond
Content advisory: Contains themes of childhood loneliness and parental absence.

I sit alone on the street. I sit alone in my life, just as I did when I was one.

I don't have a father who throws me a ball or catches it when I throw it back. A smile never comes to my face. The ball doesn't bounce across the green grass—and the grass isn't any greener on the other side.

I don't have a mother who strokes my hair when I cry over spilled milk. In my mind, even the milk remains unspilled. It never runs from the chair to the floor.

I lie alone in the dark, waiting for light from a sun that never seems to appear.

I do not yet walk through life holding the hand of someone I have met but do not really know—someone who will one day become my husband…

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You Don't Own Me

Tosh Ford · Defiance & freedom

A teenager breaking free from iron shackles on a rocky path, leaving dark storm clouds behind and walking toward sunrise
Content advisory: Contains references to coercion, emotional abuse, and survival.

You don’t own me. I was only one of your many toys, but I am free now. I can do whatever I want. I have been here since the day you demanded that I was yours.

Your problem begins the moment you look in the mirror. It has always been that way. You are the issue you keep trying to place on someone else.

Please walk toward that road with the other broken bodies. I am still here as I have always been. I will stand, and you will not touch the tears that cover my face.

It is the wet wind that wakes me to the devilish place you come from. But I walk on roads that are not allowed to trip me. There are no rocks moving beneath my feet to make me fall the way you wanted.

I walk through silk that feels like mud and dirt, then slide toward my own place in this world. It is the walkway I always knew was meant for my life.

It is free here.

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