Diary of a Dysphoric
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- Parts 2
By the time people reach 70, many enjoy telling nostalgic stories, sharing memories, and offering advice for others to follow. But my advice is different-don't look back. Every breath I take reminds me of everything that was stolen from me during World War II: my family, my pride as a Jewish woman, and the dreams I once had. People often ask why I've stayed silent for 60 years. The truth is, the memories of the war haunt me, making it hard to even speak without feeling panic and despair. I'm weighed down by memories that refuse to fade. Some might say I'm lucky to have survived such horrors, but I find no peace. In my mind, I still dream of finding someone who understands the depth of my pain. Until that happens, life feels empty, a constant reminder of what I've lost.
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