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My parents are very strict, and like any abusive parents, they sometimes tear down my walls. The walls that I have desperately tried to construct for years: silently crying in my bedroom, isolating myself by staying in my closet, and putting on a straight face when I speak with givers. Making myself seem mentally strong. However, one thing they will never destroy is my dream. My dream, a world of its own, is my escape; I often find myself sleeping very often (which is a problem) just to have control. To have control of my life and myself. It is an act in which I can be truly free; free to think, feel, see, and even maybe smell if I really put in my mind to it. Or it is an act in which I can finally be numb and not think, feel, see, and smell at all. I can easily transport myself into different worlds in my dream. I can do almost anything and everything -- that is the whole perk of dreaming. Unfortunately, being the person I am, realistic, I must bring myself back to my monotonous reality. A reality where I feel constantly trapped, like a bird in a cage, with nowhere to go and no one to talk to. I can only move my grey curtains and glance through my dirty windows to see the natural world: a vast blue sky, a shining sun, a flock of birds traveling, and green trees swaying back and forth. Maybe one day, I'll get to be free. I'll get to finally travel with the wind, roam the skies, lay on the clouds, and sway with the trees.
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I hope you will find that freedom.
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