Title: A Quiet Place
Journal Entry: March 10th, 2021
After everything that happened, I reconnected with an old girlfriend from high school. I'm not really a "girls' girl"—I've always preferred male friends, for obvious reasons and because of personal experiences I had with girls growing up. Those experiences made me keep them at arm's length. But right now, I'm just excited to see a familiar face.
She helped me find an off-campus accommodation (thank goodness). It wasn't in the typical student area but in a quiet, reserved neighborhood. After all I'd been through lately, quiet was exactly what I needed. Looking back, though, I think I've always done this—run and hide when things get tough. I wasn't really seeking a quiet place to relax; I was searching for a hideout, locked inside walls I'd built impossibly high. I'd found my own definition of inner peace: isolation.
My roommate is calm and cool-headed, not like the walking insecurities I was used to. She's tall, pretty, confident, and secure, which is obvious in the way she speaks and interacts with people. She became my first friend in university, alongside my old high school girlfriend. I'd say we balanced each other out, though my roommate was hardly ever around.
To me, the lodge felt like an escape. It was clear that I was retreating, shrinking back into the hole I had dug for myself all these years. I had craved freedom and excitement—God, I wasn't even chained anymore—but I still couldn't break free from my cage. My parents' rules had left a deeper mark on me than I cared to admit.
I saw freedom, but I shut the gate. Even though my captors were long gone, I couldn't step out. I wasn't cut out for this. I wanted to go home.
The quiet was exactly what I thought I wanted, but it felt deafening. Confined to the four walls of my room, my thoughts echoed in the silence. I was lonely. I told myself this was better—people only brought unnecessary drama that I didn't have the energy for. Here, I was safe.
But deep down, I knew. I knew I wasn't really living—I was hiding.