Dear Diary,
What is emptiness?
It's the feeling that lingers when everything you once knew fades away. It's the silence that fills the spaces where happiness used to be.
Two years ago, I made the choice to leave my old self behind. I was popular—not the kind who looked down on others, but someone who was well-liked, surrounded by friends, and content with life. I never felt the need to hurt anyone to feel important. Popularity, to me, wasn't about power—it was about belonging.
Back then, everything felt right. My days were filled with laughter, friendships, and a sense of purpose. Life seemed perfect, like nothing could ever go wrong. But nothing stays the same forever. One moment, you feel on top of the world, and the next, everything starts to slip away. Storms come when you least expect them, and when they do, they leave behind a silence so deep, it feels like a part of you has disappeared with it.
I was shattered two years ago, and ever since, my life has been nothing but endless bullying. I never hurt anyone, never looked down on others, yet I'm the one they target. Every day, I hear the names they call me, the whispers behind my back, the laughter at my expense. I don't know what I did to deserve this. Maybe nothing. Maybe people just need someone to break.
Some people in my place might have chosen to end it all, believing there was no way out. Maybe they would have given up, thinking the pain was too much to bear. But that kind of thought never lingers in my mind. I already know how the world works. People grieve for a day, maybe two. A month if you're lucky. Then, they move on. A year later, they'll stand by your grave, saying all the things they never said when you were alive. But what good is love after you're gone?.
At least most people have someone who would truly miss them. I don't. I don't have friends. I barely even have family. My parents have been gone for two months now, off on another one of their business trips. They never tell me when they're leaving or when they'll be back. At this point, I've stopped asking. Maybe they don't even notice how long they've been away. Maybe it doesn't matter.
Tomorrow, I start my final year of high school. Everyone else is excited, talking about the memories they'll make, the fun they'll have. But I don't care. I just want to get through it. One more year, and I can finally leave this all behind. We live on Paradise Island. What a joke. There's nothing paradise-like about this place. To me, it's just a prison I'm desperate to escape.
As I close my diary, I hear a knock on my door
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"Oli le dîner est prêt" ( Oli dinner's ready)
"à venir (Coming) Mehusa"
If you're wondering—yes, I know French. But I only ever speak it with Mehusa because she's the one who taught me. She has been part of my life since I was two years old, staying with my family for the past fifteen years. In many ways, she has given me the love my parents never did.
Now, as I make my way to the dining hall, I spot Mehusa sitting at the table, completely absorbed in her horoscope column. Yes, she believes in that kind of stuff—fate, destiny, the alignment of the stars. I never have.
I grab a plate and start serving myself dinner when Mehusa, as always, decides to start a conversation.
"es-tu prêt pour l'école domain" (are you ready for school tomorrow)
"come si je suis toujours prêt" (as if I am ever ready) I told her
Mehusa sighed and held my hand
"tout ira bien croire au Destin"(everything will be fine believe in fate)
and now it was my turn to sigh
" And how do you know that? "I asked her
She smiles and shows her horoscope column, which she was reading. I roll my eyes.
Of course, it's written there Oh! mehusa
"you know I don't believe in all this right"
Mehusa smile
"Oh Chérie (darling) you should believe this everything written on this is true, please Could you take a look?"
Knowing I couldn't win against her persistence, I sighed and took the paper from her hand. She held it out with a beaming smile, clearly eager for me to read it.
I scanned the page until I found my sign and began reading:
"Your life is bound to shift with the entrance of someone new, bringing fresh friendships and replacing the old ones, yet the old acquaintances will resurface in time."
My breath hitched. An old friend would reappear in my life. The words felt unreal, yet they sent a wave of unease crashing over me. Even though I didn't believe in horoscopes, the memories came rushing back—sharp words, cruel laughter, the sting of betrayal. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and before I could stop it, panic began clawing its way up my throat.
Just as the spiral threatened to consume me, Mehusa's warm hand closed over mine, grounding me before I could completely lose myself.
"êtes-vous bien"( are you fine ) Mehusa asked me
I give a fake smile and nod my head
"Have you talked to Mom and Dad?" I asked her, changing the topic
Mehusa understood that I didn't want to talk about it, so she didn't push. But she also didn't answer right away.
The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. When I didn't hear a response for a long minute, I turned to her, searching her face for something—anything. One look was enough. She had no idea where my parents were.
A lump formed in my throat, but I refused to cry in front of her. I shoved my plate aside, appetite completely gone, and pushed myself up from the table. As I walked away, I heard her call my name, but I didn't stop. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to disappear.
The moment I closed my bedroom door behind me, the tears fell freely. No more pretending, no more holding it in.
Why am I like this?
No matter how many times I asked, I never got an answer.
I knew why my parents hated me. It was because of the rumors. In a town as small as Oakwood, word spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of Paradise Island. And my parents? They believed it all. They hated that I was no longer a cheerleader. They stopped taking me to their parties, stopped acknowledging me as their daughter, all because I had supposedly ruined their reputation. A rumor—that's all it was. But to them, it was enough reason to throw me away.
Yet, this didn't make me weak. It was just gossip, not the truth. And I knew my truth. So no, I am not weak.
Or am I?
That question haunted me more than anything else. It never left me.
Brushing away my tears, I climbed into bed and pulled the quilt over myself. My mind wandered back to the horoscope. I knew better than to believe in fairytales. This wasn't a movie where some gallant prince would appear out of nowhere and pull me from the darkness.
Still, the thought made me chuckle.
Dreaming isn't bad.
Dreams don't come true—they just make us feel good for a little while.
With that, I let sleep take me, and as I drifted off, a single thought remained.
If knights in shining armor were real, then where is mine?
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