The school building was bustling with the sounds of children's laughter and chatter, yet the morning was cold and cloudy. Despite the chill, I couldn't help but focus on the innocence of these small individuals. They chatted about their favorite cartoons and interests, and their plans for the future. It was impressive to see how fast they learned and adapted to their environment.

As I watched them, I couldn't help but reflect on my own struggles and battles. These children would never know the feeling of pain or grief or sadness that I had experienced. They had not yet been exposed to the evils of the world that had swallowed me whole. It was as though they were still in a state of pure innocence, untouched by the harsh reality of life.

I envied them for their ability to make memories, have friends, and enjoy the little things in life without any worries. These were things that came so easily to them, yet were so lacking in my own life even if I was a child myself. I was constantly told to look at the bright side, to keep smiling, and to hope for more. But how could I when hope was constantly ripped away from me?

It was as though my world was shrouded in darkness, and even the slightest glimmer of light was quickly extinguished. It was hard to keep moving forward when I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair. The sadness was palpable, and it was hard not to feel like I was being suffocated by it.

Some might say that I was salty, bitter, or resentful. But in truth, I was simply grieving. Grieving for the childhood that I never had, for the memories that were never made, and for the friends that were never there. It was a feeling that was hard to describe, but it was one that was always with me.