Dear Diary,
I don't know where to begin today. It feels like the weight of these walls is pressing down on my chest, suffocating every last breath of hope within me. The sun outside mocks me. It's another day, another stretch of time to endure in this wretched place.
It's hard to believe that a year has passed since they locked me away in this hole. Each day has been a relentless battle against the haunting memories of what was and the crushing reality of what is. Today, more than ever, I long for the familiar sounds of life outside these iron bars—the laughter of children playing, the distant hum of traffic, the whispers of the wind through the trees. But here, in this unforgiving silence broken only by the distant cries of fellow prisoners, I am left alone with my thoughts.
The guards, indifferent to the torment they inflict, parade outside my cell with jingling keys and stern expressions. Their eyes pierce through my soul, stripping away any remnants of dignity I thought I still possessed. I wonder if they see me as a human being or just another number, another problem to contain.
My mind plays cruel tricks on me. Faces of loved ones, now distant memories, flicker before me like ghosts of the life I once knew. I long to hold my family close, to feel the warmth of their embrace and the reassurance that everything will be okay. But each passing day erodes that hope a little more, leaving behind the bitter residue of despair.
The walls are closing in, and the isolation is becoming unbearable. Time, once measured in days and nights, now stretches into an endless void devoid of purpose or meaning.
I close my eyes, hoping to escape into the recesses of my mind, away from the harsh reality that clings to me like a relentless shadow. But even in dreams, the bars still haunt me, reminding me that this is not a nightmare I can wake up from.
An anguish festers within. I cling to the fragments of my humanity, desperately seeking a sliver of light to pierce through the darkness. But as the sun sets, I am left with the haunting certainty that tomorrow will bring only more of the same.