บท 10: INTO THE UNKNOWN

Title: The Space Between

Entry: September 1st, 2024

Twenty, with no real boyfriend and no life… It feels ancient when you've spent your whole existence waiting for that elusive spark to feel truly alive.

I arrived home after leaving university behind. The decision wasn't easy, and while the familiar comfort of my family's presence offered some solace, it wasn't enough to silence the storm in my mind. Doubt consumed me. Was leaving university the right choice? What did my future hold now? Questions buzzed relentlessly in my head: Should I call him? Should I text him? Would he even care? The uncertainty was suffocating, an invisible weight pressing me down.

Fear crept in—fear of the unknown, fear of being alone. I was 20 years old, and my life felt directionless. To distract myself, I reopened Tinder, a crutch I'd leaned on in the past. It had once been a fleeting escape, a place to feel wanted, but now it felt empty. The conversations were forced, the matches meaningless. Every swipe deepened the hollowness inside me. I deleted the app, frustrated with myself. I'd promised I'd grow, that I'd change. But here I was, stuck in the same endless loop, numb and endlessly scrolling through social media profiles—his, theirs, all of them.

I realized then that no one was coming to save me—not through a text, a swipe, or a comforting word. I was still waiting for someone to "fix" me, but this time, it wasn't a boyfriend or a match—it was my family. Yet deep down, I knew I wasn't broken. I didn't need fixing. I needed to help myself. If I wanted to fly, I had to build my own wings.

Determined to break free from the destructive cycle I had created, I set out on a path of self-discovery and growth. It wasn't going to be easy. It wasn't meant to be. I decided to start small, learning something new. I chose programming—Python, specifically. I didn't have a concrete reason for picking it, but something about coding, about creating order from chaos, intrigued me. Alongside that, I decided to learn a new language, unsure of where it might lead, but hopeful it would open doors to a broader world.

Each lesson brought its own challenges, but with every bit of progress, I felt closer to embracing who I was. Yet, I knew that simply gaining skills wasn't enough. It was another distraction unless I confronted myself—my emotions, my past, and all the raw, unspoken feelings I'd buried. So, I turned to writing. It became my sanctuary, a place where my thoughts could breathe. The words were messy, honest, and unfiltered, but they were mine. With every page, I felt lighter, as if some small part of me was healing.

For the first time, I felt hopeful about the future—not because I knew where I was going, but because I was willing to find out. My focus shifted from seeking validation to building a foundation. I wasn't searching for someone to complete me anymore. I was searching for me. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.