Shadows

Dear Diary,

Today marked another agonizing chapter in this desolate corner of despair. The air is thick with sorrow, my own, I think, and the silence is suffocating, pressing down on me like the weight of the world. My soul is withering, and my spirit is slowly fading away, leaving behind the husk of the person I used to be.

The morning sun rose with a mocking warmth, a stark contrast to the cold reality that awaited us. The heavy iron doors feel like iron clouds. Like an iron bubble locking in the stench of despair and the nauseating mixture of sweat, fear, and unspoken pain.

We move like shadows. Faces, each carrying a tale of tragedy and etched with lines of hardship. The gravel beneath our worn-out shoes echoes the collective footsteps of shattered dreams and stolen lives. Every step a reminder of the freedom we once took for granted.

Time has lost its meaning. It stretches and contorts, an endless loop of monotony. The routine of counting minutes turned into hours, which blurred into days, each one indistinguishable from the last. A monotony only broken by the occasional eruption of violence. 

The absence of familiar faces, the isolation from the world outside, and the deafening silence have become companions in this desolate journey. Tears, unshed for the fear of appearing weak, well up in my eyes, reflecting the pain etched into the depths of my soul.

Hope flickers like a fragile flame in the harsh winds of reality. I find myself yearning for a connection to the outside world, to feel the embrace of loved ones, and to breathe the air of freedom once more. But for now, I remain trapped, a mere echo of the person I used to be.