Member-only story
This young man is crying deep within his mind. A face so pale, radiating an unsurprised look on the world surrounding him. Walking steadily on dry soil with a tiny bit of hope finding a solitude filled with peace.
Prelude
Most of us don’t remember what happened before the age of 5. I… I don’t remember before the age of 9. It is not that my memory is corrupt or damaged; I just pulled a white curtain on many events that would put such rage in my life, the kind that is better to be buried.
Since 1999 I was given little to no space for myself. All I had was my imagination. Many people call me a creative person with an incredible imagination.
We were given a subject once a week to write about and run our imaginations wild at our elementary school. For reasons I still can’t figure out, I loved writing and imagining about things I haven’t seen or heard of. So you see, for most of my life, the only space I felt genuinely peaceful with was in my head and my imagination.
That is why I did great at school — at least for those specific assignments.
“You can make things out of the abyss, I really like that about you,” said my teacher in the class. Though, it wasn’t the first time I heard something like this. Later on, in adulthood, I heard the same sentence…
