For decades, the aftermath of the hill followed Oscar into every corner of his life. He spent years searching endlessly for a home, a place of true belonging, and a "comfy chair" where the mind could finally rest—only to find that the loop of trauma kept safety just out of reach. In the quiet spaces of his mind, he fought a quiet heartbreak, realizing he had spent decades wanting to be loved without ever truly knowing what real love felt like. In the darkest moments of the loop, the severe trauma convinced him that he had failed the people around him, or that he was somehow forged from the very evil that had harmed him. But the truth remains unshakeable: Oscar was an innocent child caught in a monstrous system, carrying a blame that never belonged to him. Through the physical and emotional battles of PTSD and Functional Neurological Disorder (FND), Oscar learned the terrifying speed at which fear can grow and consume a life. He came to see abuse not just as an act of violence, but as something deceptive—like the devil itself—capable of hiding right under society's nose, making a child feel special, safe, and loved just before shattering their world. Yet, it is within the act of writing poetry and sharing his story that Oscar found a vital sanctuary. Putting the pen to paper became the one place where he could find true peace, step away from self-destruction, and safely reflect without causing himself harm. His journey stands as a profound warning to the world: if you find yourself thinking that something isn't right, you must listen to that inner voice and get help immediately. Abuse takes many forms, but the silence that protects it must be broken. Today, as he marks his 60th year, Oscar shares his history so that the nightmares can finally stop, the cycle can end, and the voices of survivors can permanently cut through the dark. "Even at sixty, the silence is the heaviest thing in the room. You look back and realize you’ve spent a lifetime feeling completely alone, carrying the haunting weight of something precious that was stolen from you before you were even old enough to know its name.