BORROWED

Title: Almost Perfect

Journal Entry: March 1st, 2024

I turned to see who had sat beside me, and for a fleeting moment, the battles in my head vanished. His eyes were captivating, the kind that draw you in, and his smile—divine. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a spark. A spark I thought I'd lost.

He made me feel whole, or at least less broken. It felt good—liberating even. His shy nature drew out a confidence in me I hadn't felt in years, and the way he stared at me made me feel seen. Not just looked at, but truly seen. His voice wasn't extraordinary, nor were his words, but the way he said them, like he understood me, melted the walls I had carefully built. For once, I let myself feel again.

We spent more time together, and with every moment, I fell harder. He was everything I had convinced myself love wasn't—attentive, protective, and proud to have me by his side. He introduced me to his friends and spoke of me with pride. He made me feel special, like I mattered in a way I hadn't before. He breathed life back into me, gave me energy and purpose.

With him, the weight of school didn't feel so heavy. My roommate's antics barely fazed me anymore. I felt stronger, more alive—like I could take on anything. But I always knew this wouldn't last. He was planning for his industrial training and was due to leave soon. I tried not to think about it, choosing instead to live in the moment. Tomorrow will worry about itself, I told myself.

As the semester went on, we grew closer. But the day I dreaded came faster than I expected. He was leaving. We made promises to keep it alive, to make it work. I wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to the hope he gave me. But deep down, I knew better.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life never misses a chance to remind me of its cruel sense of humor. This was no different.

The months that followed his departure were quiet—too quiet. The silence was louder than our calls and texts. At first, we tried. But distance, as always, did its damage. Messages grew infrequent, and soon, they stopped altogether.

And just like that, it happened again. Déjà vu.

The questions I had buried deep resurfaced: Wasn't I enough?

But this time, it wasn't sudden. It crept in slowly, piece by piece, until nothing was left of what we had. He didn't break my heart—he just let it dissolve. And in his absence, I began to fade, sinking back into the void I thought I'd escaped.

But now, with finals looming, I couldn't afford to fall apart. I didn't have time to spiral, to feel, to grieve. I had one goal: to graduate. So, I did what I've always done. I pushed it all aside, buried the memories deep, and kept moving forward.

I've been using these guys to fill a void within me, a void I've been too afraid to face. He wasn't my solution; he was my escape. And now that he was gone, I was left with what I had been running from all along—myself.

The girl who walked into this university two years ago was gone, a shadow of the person I used to be. She died somewhere along the way, and I wasn't sure if she would ever return. But I owed it to myself to try.

If he taught me anything, it's that love can be kind. But kindness, I've learned, isn't enough to make someone stay.