In the shadow of childhood's solitude, I grew. My first memory of you: your screams. By nature, the child in front of you should have been someone to protect. But your twisted mind turned me into something to destroy. Someone broke your mind, just as you broke mine.
Yet, to the public, you would confess your love for your children, while isolating me, withholding any trace of love or affection, Showing only disgust, as though I were the cause of your torment. This relentless torture carved scars unseen, leaving me to wrestle with the absence of a father's embrace.
Whilst my true father gave nothing but love, He became merely a gateway to rest my broken soul, a fleeting refuge from the chaos you unleashed. As a result, my childhood memories are a deep black cave of pain and loneliness, only pierced by a snippet of light, a moment’s rest before darkness consumed me again.
In that darkness, I built a wall— an impenetrable barrier, brick by heavy brick, each one forged in fear, anger, and survival. The mortar binding them is stronger than steel, made of tears unshed, words unspoken, and pain endured.
For years, I was ashamed of this wall. I saw it as a symbol of weakness, of my inability to stand up for myself. But now, I see it differently. Now I understand it was a testament to my strength. To survive, to protect the child I once was, to endure the storm you unleashed.
But this wall was not stationary. It moved with me, no matter where I went, surrounding me, casting shadows over life’s joys. I have felt glimpses of freedom, moments of light, but the wall always crept back, blocking me from many things others find natural and easy: Trust, love, peace, and belonging.
Now, I no longer need this wall. Its weight suffocates me, its shadow looms too large.
As I begin to tear it down, I realize these bricks are heavier than I ever imagined.The journey to dismantle them feels endless, each stone a painful memory to lift, to release, to let go. And yet, I press on, because I must.
Now, I don’t know if this wall will ever fully disappear. It’s a part of me, woven into my very being. But I will break it down, brick by brick, until its shadow no longer holds me captive.
I will feel love, I will taste freedom, and I will not be defined by its strength. Because I have found a greater strength—The strength to rise from what tried to destroy me. The strength to claim my life, my joy, my future. So here I stand, unshaken and unafraid. You may have broken me, but I am not defeated. You may have cast shadows, but I have become the light. This is my story now, and I will turn every scar into power, every brick into the foundation of a life I choose.
I am free.
I am whole.
I am unbreakable
And for the days when the wall still looms, when its shadow feels heavy, I will remind myself of this truth: I have survived the worst of it, and nothing can take away the strength I’ve built within. I am more than the pain you gave me. I am more than the scars you left. I am a force, growing brighter every day, walking toward a future that is mine to shape. So, I carry on—brick by brick, step by step, until the shadows are nothing but memories, and the light I’ve built surrounds me entirely.
This is not the end of my story. This is the beginning of my freedom. And as I walk forward, I choose to honor the person I am becoming. The child who survived, the soul who fought for the light, and the strength that has been inside me all along. Every step I take is a victory. Every moment of healing is a testament to my courage. I will love deeply, trust freely, and live fully, not in spite of what I endured, but because I rose above it. My past shaped me, but it does not define me.
I am infinite potential.
I am the architect of my future.
I am alive.
This is my story.
I understand that many of us face similar battles, navigating wounds from the past that linger in the present. We each carry our own walls, our own scars, and our own questions about how to move forward.
What you’ve read is an expression of my journey—a way for me to untangle the labyrinth of emotions, lessons, and pain that have shaped me. It’s my attempt to make sense of the chaos, to give voice to the shadows, and to find clarity in what feels like endless complexity.
This book is a reflection of that process.
It is not just a story, but a mirror—of pain, survival, healing, and hope. It is a place where I’ve gathered the pieces of my journey, not only to understand myself but to reach out to those who might see themselves in these words.
This is not a guide, nor is it a solution. It is a reflection. It is raw and imperfect, much like the healing process itself.
And while this reflection is mine, I hope it serves as a light for anyone who feels lost in their own shadows. A reminder that even in the darkest of places, there is strength. Even in the most broken parts, there is beauty.
This is just the beginning of my story. But perhaps, in some way, it can be the beginning of yours too.
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