Locked behind the iron bars, I stand alone, consumed by grief. The eerie silence of this place is unbearable, and the chains that bind my feet cut deep, leaving them bruised and broken. My nails have turned blue, my skin cracked, and dark circles have formed under my eyes—an outward reflection of the torment within. Repentance is tearing me apart from the inside, as my conscience relentlessly hounds me, dragging up the past, flashing memories on the cold stone walls that surround me.
I burn in this melancholy, trapped in a dark domain where I exist in silence, unaccompanied. I bang my head against the walls, trying to escape memories that chase me with a cruel, cryptic, evil way. My past haunts me like a specter, and I miss the simplicity of my teenage years, the rush of energy that flowed through my veins.
I long for my loving, widowed mother, her comforting talks and lullabies. I think of my beautiful girlfriend, the one I called “sugar” and “honey,” whose love shone in her eyes and meant everything to me. The rainy days we spent together, the moonlit nights, the freshness of daisies—those were the moments I cherished in my humble, simply furnished room. My medals and trophies, the tangible signs of my achievements, now feel like distant dreams.
I remember the date so clearly—it’s September 23, six years ago, the day I topped my F.Sc exams. My achievement once shone bright in my eyes, and the entrance to university was just the beginning. But I also remember the cold, mocking eyes of the elite students, their sneers at my simplicity. Rage surged through me, my ego shouting back at their derision. Emotionally driven, I chose a path that would lead me to damnation.
I pursued what fascinated me—the fleeting pleasures of cigarettes and drugs. Each puff of smoke, “satisfying” for a moment, filled my body with a false sense of glee. I abandoned my relationships, my connections, convinced that I was finally free. I made merry in my self-destructive ways, where evil deeds became my twisted form of dignity. I chased my wishes with reckless abandon, but in the end, my ecstasy led me to nothingness.
I was blind to my own actions, unaware of the emptiness that followed. Insolvent, guilty, and lost, I now stand in the prison of my own making. Locked behind these iron bars, I am alone, grieved by the choices I made, haunted by the memories that I cannot escape. The silence of my prison is deafening, and the weight of my regret is heavier than any chain.