Redemption

Dear Diary,

They say time heals all wounds, but in this concrete cocoon, time seems to only deepen the scars. Today has been a day like any other, yet it carries the weight of a thousand yesterdays. These walls echo with the hauntings of lost possibilities and the resounding regret of choices that led me to this place.

I find myself reflecting on the day that changed everything—the day my path diverged into this labyrinth. It's been countless sunrises since then, but the shadows of that moment still haunt me.

I sit on the cold floor tracing the lines of cracks in the concrete with my fingertips, like I'm retracing the steps of a dance gone horribly wrong. The memories of that day play in my mind like a merciless film reel, each frame punctuated by the clang of metal doors closing behind me.

I see the bustling market, the air thick with the scent of spices and the vibrant colors of fabric swaying in the breeze. It could have been a normal day – a day filled with mundane tasks, laughter, and the simple joys of life.

I think about the moment I made that one wrong turn, the domino that set off the cascade of irreversible consequences. In a parallel universe, perhaps I took a different path, made a different choice, and none of this would be my reality.

Time here feels like an illusion, a cruel joke played by destiny. I can't help but wonder about the alternate timelines where I avoid that ominous crossroad, where I choose a different destiny.

In moments like this, I can't tell if I want redemption or not. I long for the freedom that once defined my life but I don't think I deserve it. The regret of what could have been gnaws at my soul, and the silence of this solitude amplifies the echoes of my mistakes. 

I don't deserve redemption.

I understand the harsh reality that I cannot change the past. The only choices left to me are how I navigate this present, this slow death, and face an uncertain future. 

But still, I can't escape the haunting question – what if?