Day 14

Sometimes, the person I was today felt like a stranger compared to the person I used to be.

Growing up wasn’t easy. Not because of anything dramatic or wild—no epic battles or tragic losses—but because of the quiet things that built walls around me little by little.

I wasn’t the type to open up easily. At home, my parents were distant, always busy with their own worlds.

I learned early on that showing weakness wasn’t an option. If I wanted to get by, I had to be strong—quiet, steady, unshakable.

School was no different. I kept my head down, did what I needed to do, but I never really let anyone in.

Friends were few and far between. I guess I was afraid—afraid that if I got close, someone might see the cracks I tried so hard to hide.

There was this one moment I still remember clearly.

I was fifteen. I had just lost my temper with a friend who tried to get too close.

I yelled things I didn’t mean, pushing him away because I didn’t know how to ask for help.

After he left, I sat alone in the empty classroom, feeling the weight of my own silence.

That night, I stared at the ceiling for hours, wondering if I was broken. Maybe I was better off alone.

But somewhere inside me, a small voice whispered that I wasn’t.

It took years to learn how to trust that voice.

Now, with Hayul, things felt different. She was a light cutting through the shadows I’d carried for so long.

But even now, sometimes I catch myself pulling back, afraid to let her see the parts of me I’m still scared of.

Maybe that’s why I hesitate. Why I struggle to say what I feel.

Because opening up means risking everything.

But maybe it’s worth it.