SILENT WARS

A Quiet Place

Journal Entry: March 10th, 2021

After everything that happened, I reconnected with an old girlfriend from high school. Reaching out to her felt both nostalgic and necessary. I’ve never been much of a “girls' girl”—most of my close friendships have been with guys. Growing up, personal experiences with girls often left me guarded. Those experiences taught me to keep a distance, to avoid being vulnerable. But in this moment, reconnecting with her felt right, like seeing a familiar face in a crowded room.

She helped me find an off-campus accommodation, something I desperately needed. It wasn’t in the typical student area, surrounded by loud parties and late-night chaos. Instead, it was in a quiet, reserved neighborhood. At the time, that quiet felt like a blessing, exactly what I thought I needed. Looking back, though, I realize it wasn’t peace I was seeking. I’ve always had this tendency to run and hide when life becomes overwhelming. This wasn’t just a place to relax; it was a hideout, a fortress to shield me from everything I didn’t want to face. Isolation became my version of inner peace, but it wasn’t truly peaceful—it was lonely.

My roommate at the lodge was a stark contrast to me. Calm and cool-headed, she exuded confidence in a way that was both intimidating and inspiring. She was tall, pretty, and secure in herself, evident in the way she spoke and interacted with others. She didn’t seem to carry the weight of insecurities that I dragged around like old luggage. Surprisingly, we became friends—her, along with my high school girlfriend. The three of us balanced each other out in our own way, though my roommate was often away.

The lodge quickly became my escape. The silence of the neighborhood mirrored the walls I’d built around myself. I had spent so much of my life yearning for freedom and excitement, dreaming of the day I’d break away from my parents’ rules. But now that I had it, I felt trapped in a different way. My parents weren’t here to impose their restrictions, yet I still couldn’t step out of the mental cage they had built around me. It was as if their influence lingered, like a shadow I couldn’t shake off.

I thought the quiet was what I wanted, but it turned out to be suffocating. The four walls of my room became a prison, and the silence amplified my thoughts until they echoed endlessly. I told myself that this solitude was better, that people only brought drama I wasn’t equipped to handle. In this space, I felt safe from the chaos of relationships, from expectations, from life.

But deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn’t really living—I was hiding. The isolation I clung to wasn’t freedom; it was fear. Fear of getting hurt, fear of failing, fear of truly connecting. The quiet wasn’t a sanctuary—it was a mask for everything I was too afraid to confront.

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