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Journal #3 — The Price of Staying
They call it loyalty, but sometimes it’s just fear dressed in tradition.You grow up believing family means forever. You take their anger, their judgment, their silence — because that’s what good sons do. You bury your own voice so theirs can fill the room. But loyalty without respect rots into something darker.It becomes control.It becomes
Journal #2 — The Ashes of the Night
The rain won’t quit. It needles the windows of this tiny flat like it’s trying to get in. Ingrid’s asleep on the couch, curled around her jacket instead of me. She said the air smells like endings. I didn’t have the nerve to tell her it’s just my mother’s perfume—the same floral bite that lingers
Journal #1 — The Quiet Before the Storm
The air tonight tastes like iron and rain. The city’s holding its breath, waiting for something it doesn’t want to name. I sit here with the candle trembling beside me, pretending that ink can hold back the flood. The page stares back like a witness—unblinking, patient, cruel. Every word I write feels like a bargain