Prisoner of Walls
A Story of someone who lived a childhood full of pain and troubles
Here he is struggling with pain, his heart to carry the pen after a long hiatus, in which he rarely wrote. He could not hold back his tears as he opened the gates of hell for him, knowing that his feet would trample the land of darkness, that deep past that he is trying to forget, or at least forget as much as possible, he does not know where to start Talking or where he settles, the memories flooded him from all directions, and they were good memories. Well, let us go back to the day of his birthday, a day he does not know if it is hot or cold. All he knows from the testimonies of witnesses who witnessed his birth is that he was born prematurely.
To start the curse series, his father did not want to pay the hospital costs, which prompted the doctor to put him in a carton box, saying that his life was in danger and that he would die after three days, but fate decided to make another path for him with the ability to be able to live, but that neglect that he was subjected to Cause him a movement disability at the level of his feet.
The poor man did not remember anything. His childhood was spent with his grandmother in the desert in a ruthless social environment and in the midst of a family that you see as a disgrace to them, which made them put him in one room with closed doors and windows so that his presence would be unknown to everyone. There was nothing good in his early childhood at the age of three years He moved with his parents to the city.
Of course, you may imagine that this will be the point of change. I regret to tell you that the matter continued as it was and even became worse, as he was being beaten for the simplest things, as if he was paying the price of the neglect that led him to this situation, and as usual he was not allowed to go out or see anyone who was His life is within the confines of a room of four silent walls that do not speak. He was lonely enough to invent friends and in
In fact, he made friends of a different kind, and you might be surprised if I told you that his first friend was darkness, as his room was dark most of the time, and his second friend was pain.
He was beaten most of the time, and he spent most of his nights crying relentlessly until he got used to it, and those pains no longer stir anything in himself. His energy with it was the first time he went out into the world, the first time he went outside the house, in fact, he would not have had the opportunity to learn without
One of the righteous intervened, who made his father excuse the idea of keeping him at home, but the idea of going out was not palatable to them, so he went out under strict conditions. Do not talk to anyone, do not smile, and things like that.
The other years passed like the previous ones at the age of seventeen, he was a high school student, a completely isolated student, sitting alone most of the time, but the past pain blew inside him the queen of creativity, as he was a person fond of writing and authorship. It was filled to the brim as if the pen was walking on its own while he was writing one night in his dark room, accompanied by his denounced loneliness and deafening silence. A drop of blood fell from his eye and defiled that white paper. The ink mixed with blood. I woke him up, the memory brought him back to a distant past in
A time when he spent his days in one room, he was not allowed to go out, he did not spend a childhood like other children, he was very completely isolated, he did not mix with people for a long time, as if he did not even realize that people were there.
Abroad and in fact he was not interested. For him, that room was his whole world. He didn't have toys like other boys, he didn't eat sweets, he didn't smile to watch cartoons, he was someone who felt nothing but darkness, overwhelmed by the pain that ran through his legs tied tightly to wooden boards, distracting him from feeling and listening He grew up and pain is his companion The only one no one spoke to him He was for everyone a disgrace to them Everyone treated him as an incomplete and a useless thing He observed everyone's actions and knew that he was not wanted He cursed himself in the depths of his heart He hated his deficiency and his helplessness that he had no hand in He despised the world and He looked at the healthy with a look of contempt. He knew that they were between themselves, saying, What a helpless one, but that was not their pain, his legs were worse, oh, the day passed quickly, and it was time for bed, and for the most part without eating, before he closed his eyes every night Cursed the whole world and He succumbs to a sleep worse than his reality
At this point his hand trembled and refrained from writing any further.
I woke up from the memory journey to find tears on my face, oh my God, I am on the threshold of twenty-five years of age, and I still remember all these details as if they happened last night, and in fact, my father is still bossy, and these things still take me a lot every night.