Debbie was walking home from a tutoring session
when she spotted a street vendor selling journals.
She stopped, running her fingers over the colorful
covers, and bought one impulsively. That night, she
wrote her first entry:
"For so long, I've let the people around me define who I am. Pasco's rejection made me feel unworthy. Felix's affection made me feel seen. But what about me? Who am I when the world is quiet and there's no one to lean on? I don't know the answer yet, but I think it's time I find out."
Her hand shook as she finished the sentence, but a
weight lifted from her chest. She was tired of living
her life in reaction to others.