I remember being asked often, "Why don't you sleep?" or "How do you manage to stay awake for five years?" Some thought it was amazing how I couldn't sleep, while others thought, "It's bad for your health, get some sleep."

Of course it's bad, I know all too well that "lack of sleep" can cause a lot of trouble. The answer to why I can't sleep is quite simple, and at the same time, it might be strange or even offensive to some.

"Sleep" brings pain and suffering, every day... it seems like a never-ending battle... When you close your eyes for a second, you immediately feel a presence, as if they want to "kill" you. Perhaps some will say it's related to the "movie" or "genre" that I watch, and under the influence of fear, I see things, but... the truth is, "movies" don't interest me, and I haven't seen them for a long time. I watched them, and even then, they were family-oriented, but I stopped reading them and don't read them much anymore, especially since I'm losing interest in things I once found quite interesting and loved doing every day.

However, after a decline and emotional ups and downs, depression, and several suicide attempts due to poor health and problems in my personal life, it also caused me pain, especially in terms of my mental health...perhaps all this happened because I often held back, especially since childhood. Before, I couldn't even utter a word about my "past" because it was painful and unbearable...But now...perhaps I've either cooled off or managed to find a stronger support within myself. One day, I lost my direction, my path, and almost "lost" myself, my identity, and my hope.

However, suddenly, signs from higher powers and from the Creator began to come to me. At first, I didn't really pay attention or believe them, especially since I had long since lost faith in "miracles," but for the sake of my family, I at least pretended that I was fine, that I was still cheerful, and that I still believed in these "miracles."

Every day, I had to force a smile...even though it was very painful and unbearable...I tried to avoid conflict and be obedient; I didn't want to be a "burden" to my family...

Even more, they have enough to do without it. Of course, this doesn't mean that my parent is cold, insensitive...rather, he is too soft, naive, and too kind a person...because of which I had to give her advice and experience in some things or under to push towards any thought or idea.

Before, no one wanted to listen to me, thinking I was a "child." Of course, on the one hand, that's good, but on the other, it's not... I had to grow up before my age, which is why most of society considered me "strange," and it was hard for me to find common ground with people... not because I can't, but because we are too different... as a child, I could and can find common ground with everyone if I want... however, I don't want to play that "role" anymore, because it's the same as me wearing their skin.

Everyday topics and things that ordinary students at my school and in the country enjoy were pretty boring and uninteresting to me personally, and I was also not interested in gossip, queer talk, or any history; I was always on my own.

But from this, I began to communicate poorly with people, especially with girls; our interests were too different... They seemed strange to me, just as I did to them, and I was It's completely impossible to understand what they love and why they love to gossip, slander, and be interested in other people's lives... Well, maybe it's not like that everywhere? Maybe I just happened to run into such people? I was bullied at school, but perhaps it was because I wasn't very interested and didn't really respond to their provocations (even if unconsciously).

I wasn't interesting, and my parent is very sensitive to such things. One day, my parent complained to the principal's assistant, thanking her for leaving me alone until the next year (since we wouldn't see each other again).

However, this wasn't the only incident in childhood. When I was younger, there were many such cases in summer school in first grade, second grade, third grade... In third grade, I was already studying in another country next to our "homeland." Unfortunately, I don't remember the third grade, I think it was due to psychological trauma. I don't remember, but I can say one thing: I felt unpleasant and a very dark feeling.

Although I don't remember it, I vaguely sense fear, remorse, tears, shock, stress, and scandal... maybe there was something else, but I don't know what this feeling is called...

In the second grade, I studied in the country where I was born. At that time, I studied in a Russian school, if I remember correctly, I studied there for half a year or several months, just like in the third grade. I don't remember third grade very well either, but I still have memories of the looks, the attitude, and the atmosphere there. I still remember those looks of hatred and the wish that I hadn't studied there, especially since I was the only foreigner among the "Russians."

But I'm not writing this to make them out to be villains. Of course, I met some good ones, but what I saw back then was a shock. I don't remember it and I don't want to remember it. I'm afraid to imagine what I had to see... But I can say one thing: I had no friends there and I don't remember my class...

And in first grade, too.

It's the same as in Russian, but softer... probably... because even there, the homeroom teacher of our class hated me so much that she could deliberately give me a low grade and humiliate me.

I remember she once scolded me for making myself "convenient" by bringing a book stand into the classroom so that I could read comfortably, and then I clearly remember how the teacher scolded me and hit my hands with metal plastic. It was very painful and unbearable.

She beat me until I cried, but since I was quite "patient," she did not see my tears... But I thought then that violence from the teacher is the norm: beatings, deliberate low grades, public humiliation, and gossip. It was obvious that the teacher told my classmates to stay away from me...

I couldn't even imagine then that it was bullying of a child... I still, 13 years later, can't understand what I told her Did I do anything? Was I disobedient? Or did I do something? No! I was an overly obedient child and silent, I didn't touch anyone or bully anyone, I didn't really communicate with anyone, so why did I have all this? I remember how she tried to forbid me from doing what I did out of habit, as it turned out during meals. I liked to sing during meals, it was normal, because when I was happy, I always sang, everyone at home was used to it, and at that moment the teacher scolded me.

No, rather, she forbade me. I was a child, and at home I was taught that elders must be respected and obeyed without question, even if the teacher or elder is wrong and makes a mistake, so I just followed what the teacher told me, although it was very offensive.

In the first days when I entered first grade, the teacher made a remark, scolded me, and again hit my hands because of my handwriting... I used to.My mother used to write quite normally, and she told me that my old handwriting was better.

But after that day...I started writing worse and worse, as if something inside me was broken. And no matter what I did, the teacher was unhappy with everything I did and how I was doing in school... one day she gave me a D in all my subjects.

Although what I presented to her should have been at least a C or B, I don't remember what exactly it was.

I also ended up in the hospital frequently since childhood, when I was about 6 or 7 years old.

One day at school, I got a concussion (although I was often hospitalized specifically for concussions) because of a classmate. I don't remember what happened then, but I vaguely remember some kind of argument, but I don't remember what it was about or what it was either. In the end, I still graduated first grade as a top student.

I also don't remember much about kindergarten, but I do remember how the teachers there changed one after another. I was alone there, sitting in a corner and reading a book I'd brought from home.

I remember once how a girl threw a tantrum because she wanted the toy I'd picked up to play with and took everything I touched, so I stopped playing with the toys and went to read a book (I sometimes wonder if that's why I stopped playing with dolls and the like as a child?). I also remember how on my birthday another girl (I don't remember their names or who they were) tried to blow out the candles in my place as if it was her birthday and not mine. I was confused at the time, and that was strange to me.

However, it was good that the teacher I liked was on shift, so I blew out the candles. I also remember a time when it was nap time, and the bed where I slept was a problem. I always had problems with the bed: it was either too small, or it didn't fit, or it wasn't enough, but the way it came to me I patiently went to bed, but I woke up because I felt blood rushing to my head, but to avoid being reprimanded, I lay quietly.

But I most likely don't remember kindergarten because I was constantly sleepy. According to my parent, I learned that my grandmother couldn't tell her the truth about my condition. I suffered from sleeplessness at night, and in the mornings at kindergarten, I fell asleep right during meals.

Perhaps that's why I don't remember. That's how I learned that I once left kindergarten in shock and remained silent until we got home and I lost consciousness. I don't remember that day either, but how it turned out, the doctor said I was in shock and maybe I pinched something. Then sometimes I think maybe it's because I recently remembered, albeit vaguely.

The day when I fell behind the children, and while I was putting on my shoes or something, I don't remember...

There was a security guard working at the kindergarten, and I don't remember who. It turned out that day I stayed with him at the restaurant. I don't really remember anymore, but recently, last year in 2025, literally in the spring in May, memories came flooding back one after another—the ones I'd long forgotten. Maybe it's related to age?

Well, then I suddenly remembered that very day I definitely wouldn't want to remember—the kindergarten incident with the security guard, but I still don't remember everything. However, I did remember that day, how this "man," no, rather "creature," pinned me against the closet. I clearly remember being inside the closet, but I don't I remember what happened next...

Well, that day still remains a mystery to me... but maybe it's for the best?

Perhaps this "amnesia" was good for me, so I wouldn't fall apart and be completely broken.

Now, reading this, I'm beginning to realize how much my teachers and many other people hated me.

Many things happened in my life, not only in school, but also in my personal life: numerous betrayals, injustice, deception, slander, and many other incidents that I'll probably keep quiet about, as I don't particularly want to write or talk about them.

I wouldn't wish such a life on anyone...

A life that resembles hell or nightmares.

-𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮

ℳ𝒪𝒪𝒩ℛ𝒪𝒮ℰ

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!!!

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆.

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆.

𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈🤍🕊️