The invisible struggles

The Inner Fight

Lucas stood alone in his room, staring out the window at the sleeping campus under the moonlight. The painful memories of his childhood resurfaced relentlessly, like familiar shadows that never really left him. He always tried to drive them away, but that evening they were especially insistent.

The compulsive violence that had tormented him for years had begun long before he arrived at the university. It was a dark shadow that had grown up with him, a desperate response to the brutal injustice of his past.

He still remembered the first times his father had hit him. A frail and shy little boy, he did not understand why his father was so angry, why he screamed and beat him with such fury. Each blow carried not only the physical pain but also the brutal message that to be respected, you had to be feared.

With each blow, Lucas's anger grew, taking root deep in his childish heart. He quickly learned that violence could be a form of protection, a way to defend himself against the injustice of the world around him. If his father didn't show him respect, then he would find a way to ensure it himself.

As he grew older, anger became an inseparable part of him, an instinctive reaction to anything that threatened his safety or sense of control. He learned to contain this rage, to control it, but sometimes, in moments of intense stress or conflict, it would break loose, leaving behind a chaos of harsh words and impulsive gestures.

He knew it wasn't the right way to handle things. He had tried therapy, meditation, even anger management techniques recommended by professionals. But nothing seemed to soothe the inner fire that burned inside him, constantly reviving the painful memories of his childhood. Lucas sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. He hated that part of himself, that dark, uncontrollable side that scared others and made him feel like a monster. He did not want to be like his father, did not want to reproduce the same destructive patterns. But sometimes he felt trapped in his past, condemned to relive the same cycles of anger and regret over and over again.

Arriving at the university, Lucas had hoped to find a new beginning, a place where he could reinvent himself and leave behind the demons of his past. But the truth was that his demons had followed him, hiding in the dark corners of his mind, ready to resurface at any moment of weakness.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the tumult of thoughts that swirled in his head. He had to find a way to break this cycle, to find the inner peace and tranquility he had always been searching for. But for now, he stood there, facing his memories, wondering if he could ever escape the shadow of his past.

Lucas stood in front of the university library, watching the students go about their daily business. The weight of his past was felt that day more than ever. Political science was not simply an academic choice for him; it was a path loaded with deep meaning, shaped by the tumultuous events of his childhood.

Since he was little, Lucas had witnessed injustice and misused power. His father, often brutal and authoritarian, had influenced his worldview. Whenever he saw reports on television about corrupt politicians or gross injustices, he felt a dull anger rise inside him. He remembered his father's harsh words and violent actions, and he knew that something had to change. Political science had become a path for Lucas, an opportunity to understand the mechanisms of power, governance, and social change. He wanted to learn how to navigate the murky waters of politics so that one day he could make a difference, so that he would never again see someone else suffer the injustice he had experienced.

At university, he plunged headlong into his studies, absorbing every political theory, every critical analysis with passionate intensity. He actively participated in class debates, defending his convictions with a firmness that came from the depths of his being.

For Lucas, political science wasn't just an academic subject; it was a way to channel his anger and frustration into something constructive. He wanted to understand how power could be used for the common good, how institutions could be strengthened to protect the most vulnerable. His friends often saw him as a natural leader, someone who could bring people together around a common cause. But behind his apparent self-assurance, there was always a part of him that was at war with his past, desperately seeking to transform the pain into something positive. Lucas remembered his mother's words, telling him that he was destined to do great things. But it was more than that. It was a quest to find meaning in his own journey, to redefine his family heritage in a way that would allow him to look at himself in the mirror without feeling ashamed. As he walked through the campus that day, Lucas felt both inspired and charged with an immense responsibility. He knew that the path to a better future was fraught with difficulties, but he was determined not to give up. Political science was his path to personal redemption, a chance to transform the scars of his childhood into an engine for positive change.

Lucas stood in front of the punching bag, his hands gloved and his muscles tense, ready to release all the tension that cluttered his mind. Each blow was a momentary release from the anger and frustration that had been bubbling inside him for years. Yet despite his efforts to channel his emotions through boxing, he still felt an overwhelming weight on his shoulders. His coach, a former boxer with a face hardened by years of intense training, was silently watching from the corner of the gym. He had noticed the burning fury in Lucas's eyes since the first day, but he also knew that the young man kept his demons well hidden. After a particularly brutal session, Lucas stopped for a moment to catch his breath, his face marked by the effort and the tension. The coach approached him, his arms folded on his massive chest.

"Lucas," he began in a low, firm voice, "you're strong. But it's not just about physical strength here. You have demons to face, and I'm not just talking about the ones you hit on this bag." Lucas looked up at his coach, a mixture of surprise and distrust in his gaze. He knew that his coach had seen through him, but he was not ready to open this Pandora's box of painful memories.

"Do you think you can fight them by hitting harder?" continued the coach, his voice becoming harder. "You're mistaken, Lucas. It doesn't work like that." Lucas stiffened, feeling the anger rising in him. No one really understood what he was going through, the sleepless nights spent reliving the nightmares of his childhood, the moments when the only answer was to let out this consuming anger.

The coach approached again, planting his gaze in Lucas's with an almost intimidating intensity. "If you really want to change things, you have to face what haunts you. You can't just put it aside and hope it goes away. It doesn't work like that, Lucas." Lucas looked away, his jaws clenched, his fists clenched. He didn't want to hear that. He didn't want to open this Pandora's box and let out the memories he had carefully buried deep inside himself.

The coach didn't let himself be deterred. He had seen too many young men and women like Lucas, carrying the unbearable weight of their past on their shoulders, looking for an outlet in violence and rage. He knew that boxing could be therapy, but it could not replace the emotional healing that Lucas desperately needed. "I'm not asking you to talk to me, Lucas," he resumed in a softer voice this time. "I'm just asking you not to fight alone."

Lucas felt a burning tear run down his cheek, an unexpected manifestation of the pain and vulnerability he had kept under control for so long. He looked away, feeling a mixture of shame and gratitude intertwining in his heart.

The coach put a comforting hand on his shoulder, not as an act of hardness, but as an offering of sincere support. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be here. In the meantime, don't let this anger destroy you, Lucas. Use it to build yourself up."

Lucas nodded, unable to find the words to express how he felt. He knew that the path would be long and difficult, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope shining beyond the darkness that had enveloped him for so long.