My dear diary,
Here I am in a cozy corner coffee shop just by Camden Road station. It’s Monday, the 23rd of June. I’m tearfully sad to find myself here like this—crushed under what feels like the weight of the entire world. I don’t know how I’m still standing. I’m worn thin, inside and out.
Some days, I wonder why I haven’t given up. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s hope I can’t quite name. There are moments when I just want to fall asleep and never wake again.
But I’m still here. And for now, that has to be enough.