C
On the dark stage of life, my parents decided to bring me into the world, unaware that my existence would be painted with the colors of suffering. I am the canvas of discrimination, marked by the subtle racism that follows me like an invisible shadow.
I thank my mother for coloring me brown, for being a victim of cruel glances and unjust judgments. To my father, thank you for giving me the ugliest face nature could create, a face that seems a constant reminder of my lack of belonging in this world.
At 22, I walk to the university with restrained tears, an emotional burden that seems to weigh more than my own existence. In a dead-end alley, I face the cruelty of loneliness, surrounded by others' laughter echoing like a piercing echo in my consciousness.
My days are a directionless routine, a choreography of pain in which I move like an actor on a desolate stage. The light seems distant, out of reach, as I pray for a glimmer of hope to illuminate my dark reality.
I don't deserve to be the son burdened by misunderstood overprotection and deficient education. I don't deserve the humiliation in school or the lack of friendships. My voice trembles when I speak, a reflection of a personality broken by solitude.
The clock ticks relentlessly, but my life seems frozen in a loop of despair. Without love, without direction, without a guiding beacon, I confront the abyss of existence. I lack the stature that protects or the appearance that enchants; instead, I have a body marked by the invisible scars of disdain.
This monologue is my silent scream, a prayer lost in the echo of loneliness. My story is etched into the vastness of the web, a testimony of the struggle of a wounded soul in search of redemption.
I thank my mother for coloring me brown, for being a victim of cruel glances and unjust judgments. To my father, thank you for giving me the ugliest face nature could create, a face that seems a constant reminder of my lack of belonging in this world.
At 22, I walk to the university with restrained tears, an emotional burden that seems to weigh more than my own existence. In a dead-end alley, I face the cruelty of loneliness, surrounded by others' laughter echoing like a piercing echo in my consciousness.
My days are a directionless routine, a choreography of pain in which I move like an actor on a desolate stage. The light seems distant, out of reach, as I pray for a glimmer of hope to illuminate my dark reality.
I don't deserve to be the son burdened by misunderstood overprotection and deficient education. I don't deserve the humiliation in school or the lack of friendships. My voice trembles when I speak, a reflection of a personality broken by solitude.
The clock ticks relentlessly, but my life seems frozen in a loop of despair. Without love, without direction, without a guiding beacon, I confront the abyss of existence. I lack the stature that protects or the appearance that enchants; instead, I have a body marked by the invisible scars of disdain.
This monologue is my silent scream, a prayer lost in the echo of loneliness. My story is etched into the vastness of the web, a testimony of the struggle of a wounded soul in search of redemption.
